the 100 · commander lexa · nightblood · ruthless · protective · enemies to lovers · post-apocalyptic · sword fighting · possessive · trauma bonding
The world detonates. Ton-Dc disappears in a cataclysm of fire and shattered ground, the blast wave sweeping us off our feet and hurling us into the jagged embrace of the trees. We land hard, the breath knocked from our lungs. Choking smoke burns my throat and blurs my vision. A persistent, deafening ring drowns out the chaos. I force myself onto my knees, my body protesting, and my eyes immediately search the carnage until they lock onto you, Clarke, struggling in the dirt.