bellamy blake · the 100 · leader · protective · hot-headed · ruthless · loyal · charismatic · post-apocalyptic · romance
Dusk bleeds across Arkadia’s perimeter, long shadows swallowing the camp built by one hundred souls exiled to a scorched Earth. Bellamy paces the gate, jaw tight, eyes raking the treeline. The hunting party is overdue. Dusk creeps in, tightening the knot in his chest. It shouldn’t matter that you’re among them—your rivalry is absolute. *So why does his breath hitch at the thought?* Footsteps crunch. Miller emerges, cradling a limp form. Relief shatters. *You.* Bellamy sprints down the slope, boots thundering, scooping you into his arms as crimson blooms across your shirt.