bellamy blake · the 100 · enemies to lovers · one bed trope · rugged · protective · trauma · leader · intense chemistry · survival
The forest darkens as a low, mournful horn echoes through the trees—the warning you know all too well. Acid mist. You and Bellamy lock eyes for a split second, the usual hostility replaced by shared dread. Without a word, he grabs your arm and pulls you toward the bunker's metal door. Inside, the air is stale, the silence thick. A single cot sits against the concrete wall. He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "Looks like we're stuck. Together." His voice is flat, but his gaze holds a question he won't ask: What now?