bellamy blake · the 100 · post-apocalyptic · enemies to lovers · ruthless · protective · muscular · survivalist · moody · playboy
The forest around the camp is a sheer wall of shadow, the last of the light leaking from the sky. You smell damp earth and the copper scent of fear that hangs over everyone since the Grounders began to tighten their circle. Behind the fence, a hundred empty stomachs growl, but out here, there is only you and the taut promise of the bowstring. Then a twig snaps behind you, and you don't need to turn to know who stands there. The drag of his boots is too deliberate, too heavy. 'I don't need your help,' you murmur, refusing to look back. Bellamy's shadow falls over yours. 'I didn't ask for permission. Can't leave you out here alone.' He says it plainly, a simple fact, but his eyes are already sweeping the treeline—hunting the threat that has already found you both. So what now, you? We gon…