Candy Hearts


Based on the word “Inevitable”

Draco’s eleven.

He’s gasping lungs and cracked open ribs as he clutches the acceptance letter in his pocket and glances up at the frost laced rooftops of Diagon Alley, realizes that there’s an entire world beyond the manor walls and he hadn’t even realized it.

He’s eleven and catching sight of her through shop window reflections like crystal balls. Dragging himself into Florish and Bots because there’s curiosity, no, interest, no, enchantment, maybe, ebbing like magic through the whorls of his fingertips. And she’s in his peripheral, schoolbooks clutched to her chest and smile soft, eyes wide and lashes fluttering. Luminescent in the light filtering through the window.

Draco watches as she rolls her sleeves up to her elbows and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, strains on her tiptoes to reach a book on one of the higher shelves and –

“Here,” he says, grabs the book and slips it into her hands. Ignores the spark that catches between their fingertips and tugs, oh yes, he’s close enough to see the color of her eyes like rainbows reflected through a prism, the butterfly soft smile that traps itself against her mouth as she meets his eyes –

Says her name, “Y/N,” like wind chimes or a symphony.

And Draco thinks that it might as well be a spell.


Draco’s twelve.

He’s glances cast across a classroom, over his shoulder, when he hopes that nobody is looking. Fingers brushing and elbows knocking and, “Excuse me, I didn’t watch where I was going.” He did, and he’d be lying if he said that touching her felt anything less than a charm.

He’s twelve and he’s the pride swelling in his chest at his first Quidditch match when he can hear her somewhere below him, cheering his name. He tells her that she’s his good luck charm the next day, doesn’t quite catch the blush that suffuses her cheeks before he turns away.

But it’s the last day of term and she’s slipping by him in the train corridor and, “Have a good summer, Draco,” she says, hesitates, brushes her lips against his cheek.

He hadn’t quite believed in magic, until then.


Draco’s thirteen.

He’s Blaise’s snickering and Pansy’s knowing looks and jealousy, hot and potent, bubbling like a potion he hadn’t managed to get right in his stomach as Cormac McLagen smirks and smiles and sidles up beside Y/N in the Great Hall during breakfast one day.

He’s thirteen and he’s fucking captivated as snowflakes dust Y/N’s lashes and the wind twirls the ends of her scarf, as she wipes butterbeer from her upper lip and giggles at something that one of her friends whispers into her ear.

“I’ll help you back,” he offers, seizes a chance, when her friends have run ahead of her on the path back to the castle.

And she smiles at him, tucks an arm through the crook of his elbow. Tells him about the trouble she’s been having in Transfiguration lately and if she can’t figure it out her parents will have her head for sure and –

“I can tutor you, if you’d like,” he says, wonders if Blaise had spiked his pumpkin juice with Felix Felicis that morning. Hopes that she can’t feel his heartbeat through the jut of his elbow.

“I’d love that,” she replies.

And he can’t quite believe his luck.


Draco’s fourteen.

He’s library desks cluttered with books and ink blotches, Madam Pince’s furious hushing when he and Y/N forget to be quite. The way light streaks and shimmers around her, distorted as though they’re drowning in the Black Lake.

He’s fourteen and strangely, oddly hopeful as he clasps her fingers, marvels at the fit of her hand in his, shows her the correct hand motion and heart stops, starts, stutters when she doesn’t quite pull away.

“I aced my last test,” she tells him, runs towards him in the corridor, throws her arms around his neck till he can feel her heartbeat crash against his.

“I guess you don’t need a tutor anymore then,” he says. A frown is burgeoning on the cusp of his mouth.

“No, no,” she says hurriedly. “I still do.”

And he isn’t sure why he hasn’t transfigured this, them into something else yet.


Draco’s fifteen.

He’s the firewhiskey on his lips and the castle floor on the palms of his hands as he reaches forward and spins the bottle yes, hopes, wonders, waits as it spins, spins, lands on her, oh yes.

He’s fifteen and he’s the lip-gloss on her lips, the way they crash head on like a train-wreck, a car crash and he doesn’t have an algorithm for this: him, her, the kiss.

Because her mouth fits neatly against his and she tastes like melted sugar, like cotton candy, all soft edges and fluttering pulse points. His eyes are closed and he can’t quite believe/ only he can, he’d rigged the game.

Afterwards, afterwards, afterwards:

He pulls her into a broom cupboard and threads his fingers through her hair, tastes butterbeer on her tongue and feels his tonsils glued together because this is a secret and he can’t quite find the right words to say.

But things are different, they’re different and he holds her hands as he walks her to class, kisses her across the tabletop in Honeydukes and grabs her, twirls her after Quidditch matches. He wraps his scarf around her neck and they pass notes in class, sit at the top of the astronomy tower at night and map out the handful of constellations that they know.

It’s this: him, her, and how he hadn’t anticipated that the winds would change.


Draco’s sixteen.

He’s late night kisses and early morning platitudes, worried questions and, “Draco, I know something’s wrong.” The mark on his arm and the worry that’s coiled tight in his gut as he attempts to keep it covered up.

He’s sixteen and he’s breaking, the world too heavy on Atlas’ shoulders. Because he has a noose around his neck and he can’t do it, can’t, can’t, can’t.

They lose their virginity to each other the night before he’s meant to kill Dumbledore. And it’s like falling through a pensieve to a memory he didn’t know he had; soft lips and rolling hips and gasps, teeth, fingers fit neatly in the groove of her waist.

Here’s how it goes:

A girl, a boy, a tragedy. He’s Icarus and she’s the sun and it’s not her that kills him, oh no, it’s the ocean and melted wax dripping down his back.

He tells her ‘I love you’ before he tells him ‘I have to kill you’.

And there’s a green light and he’s Gatsby and he’s never managed to reach what he wanted, no, has only ever been a cautionary tale.

He’s sixteen and he’s a mistake, a heartbreak, the boy who made all the wrong choices.


Draco’s seventeen.

He’s the shards of a broken chandelier stuck in his mouth, his hands, vocal chords torn to ribbons as lights flash green and screams echo through the hallowed corridors of the manor. The letters he’d sent her that don’t have a reply, the ragged stitches of a heart never meant to mend.

He’s seventeen and the room of requirement is burning around him, life flashing before his eyes, flames licking at his heels. It’s her, her, her. And Crabbe’s gone, the room is charred but it’s not over yet, is never over.

There’s blood on his hands and in his throat when he sees her again. When he grabs her, yells, watches as a Death Eater’s body crumbles to the floor.

Her palm is sweaty against his, breaths ragged and tears sooty.

There’s a war raging around them and he finds that he doesn’t quite care.


Draco’s eighteen.

He’s the faded mark on his arm and the ring in his pocket and the happiness – cautious, unsure, new – that permeates the walls of his new home with her. Because the war is over and the world is still turning.

He’s eighteen and he’s a happy ending, maybe, a fairytale that didn’t quite end with them riding off into the sunset but ended like this instead: him and her and he thinks that that’s all he ever really needed.

12.16 coda

AAAAAND we’re back, lovelies! As usual, if you’d like to be added to my master taglist, shoot me a message and I’ll stick you onto the next one!

It feels wrong for some reason not telling Castiel that Claire shows up on their case in Wisconsin, but he’s been swallowing that bullshit about “giving people space” for months now and he’s trying to do right by her at least. Let her make her own choices. Besides, it’s kind of nice having her tag along. She’s a pretty cool kid.

He should have called the minute he figured out what Mick was up to. He knows he should have. But it all happens so fast with the bite and the cure and he’s too busy blaming everyone in that room for what’s happening to his - to Claire. His hand, his hand shoved that poisonous needle into Claire’s skin, he as good as killed her himself. “I need some air.” He yanks on the doorknob like he wants to rip Mick’s head off his body and and steps out into the cold night air.

For a minute all he can do is stand on the threshold, chest heaving. He’s frozen to the front step, a terrible ringing in his ears.

And then he hears another high-pitched, agonized scream. It scares him into moving.

Keep reading

Imagine that Icarus didn’t fall. That Apollo heard the cries of his lover and caught his hand just in time. We would have two suns in the sky, curling around each other in fierce adoration and burning with the merciless vigor of love.

Imagine the loss the ocean felt when she watched from a distance, longing lacing around her heart and regret tearing through her throat. In a jealous rage, the ocean would make the world end. In less than a minute she would flood the coast and sweep inland, with the heat of her fury evaporating the ocean spray. Only the return of Icarus to her embrace would dissipate her wrath and spare the lives of mortals.

Imagine that Apollo, like any other god, is selfish to a fault. He craves worship and the sweet words of his lover won’t be enough for eternity. Icarus would eventually fade and crumble between his fingers, and Apollo knows this. With a sorrowful excuse dripping off his lips, he lets Icarus slip from him like the wax melting beneath his hands.

Imagine the receding waves that reached up to meet Icarus’ anguished screams as he fell away from his lover. While his tears sizzled on the still-hot wax of his burnt wings, reeking of betrayal and absent abandon, he cursed the gods and pitied those who worshiped them.

—No matter what variation the myth takes on, the fall is inevitable, and somehow it’s more heartbreaking that way | a.h

Dear MC,

I saw how happy you are since you met RFA. You were determined to do your best for them. You vowed to yourself that you will make them feel loved in everyway you can.

You loved Yoosung so much. You taught him that it’s okay to grieve, it’s okay to be lonely and that it’s okay to let go. That he won’t be alone even if he does. That you were there for him. That he is loved and the people around him understands his pain.

You became Zen’s muse and you loved every freakin’ second of it. You were there for him. The world that he worked really hard for may crumble into pieces but you won’t think twice to pick him up and help him stand on his feet again.

Jaehee was sad and you knew it. And o god you loved her, you loved her so much. You stood up for her during the time when she was confused of what she should do. You took her hand and guided her to a place where she can be happy cause you know she more than deserve it.

Jumin was someone hard to reach. He was tangled with webs of despair that seals him away from the world because he was hurt and lonely. But you made your way unto him and held him in your arms. You taught him how love makes people vulnerable but it’s always okay -  It’s always okay because you won’t hurt someone you love.

And Seven, he said things to hurt you. He pushed you away and rejected you but you endured it all. You let him see how people don’t give up for someone they love. How it’s okay to rely unto someone and share the pain. How you were willing to accept him- the past,present,and future him. How you love him unconditionally. How his every flaw and mistake doesn’t define him. That he can be selfish and have you as his own.

You loved them with everything you have. 

You saved RFA.

 but who saves you?



Series: Yoongi | Jungkook | Namjoon | Taehyung | Jimin | Jin

Genre: Angst, but a happy ending; Soulmate!AU where you lose color vision when you meet your soulmate

Pairing: Hoseok X Reader

Word Count: 3.3K

Originally posted by jitonic

“Which color is this?”

You glance over at the thing your mother is pointing at, and shake your head at it in disgust.

“Ew, no.” You say, tugging her away from the hideously colored, zesty orange scarf, “That is gonna look absolutely terrible on you—don’t buy it.”

“Relax.” Your mother rolls her eyes, still letting you guide her to the… safer section of the store, “It’s not like your Dad’s going to mind, sweetheart.”

“Yes, but,” You shrug defeatedly, “That’s because Dad can’t see how hideous the color is. I still can.”

“I thank you for the sentiment, honey.”


The two of you share a private grin, before your mother hums delicately and busies herself looking through racks and racks of shirts, feeling the material absently. You only watch, noting to yourself sadly how she frowns confusedly at certain shirts of the same design, but different colors. You sigh then, propelling yourself forward.

“Take this one.” You push the plum colored shirt back onto the rack, and press the maroon one into her hands, “It suits you better.”

“Oh, thank you sweetheart.” She says gratefully, smiling gently at you, “What on earth would I do without you?”

“I ask myself that every day.” You mutter to yourself as you watch her make for the changing rooms, “Indeed, what would you do?”

Sighing, you take out your phone, trying to preoccupy yourself with one of your apps so that you can pass the time away. No matter how much you play, though, you can’t get your mind off your mother’s predicament.

Why on earth would people actively look for their soulmates, if their vision turns grey the second they do? What on earth would possess them, for them to do that? It doesn’t…it just doesn’t make sense.

Your mother comes back, by then, clothes bundled up in the shopping bag. You take it from her and, sighing at the ugly orange scarf at the bottom of the pile, make your way to the cash counter with her so that you can pay.

“Good morning Ma’am!”

You trace the countertop idly as your mom exchanges pleasantries with some guy behind the computer. You don’t look up, not until your mom nudges at you to hand her wallet over. Fishing it out, you present it to her, before lazily trailing your eyes upward, locking on surprised cocoa brown ones, before everything turns grey.

Keep reading

The old gods are dead.

Zeus gets high alone and remembers the days when the sky was his, before life caught up with him in a dark alley way.

Hera waits at home. She knows. She knows it all. She wants to tell him it’ll get better, he’ll be okay, she loves him. She wants to take her own advice. She wants to lie. She never will.

Apollo and Artemis travel the world. They have a one way ticket to the moon.

Poseidon swims into the sea, or maybe it’s the sky. No one can tell the difference anymore. The girl with serpents for hair mourns for him on the shores of the end of the world.

Hades lies awake, his wife curled around him. He smiles because people finally believe in death.

Athena cries. She is transparent and weightless as she rides the midnight train, her voice is hoarse from protests. Wisdom left here long ago.

Demeter counts down the days until her daughter returns. She is made of memories and madness, but what’s the difference?

Persephone wears her strength and her darkness. Beauty is power, and she will make the world know her name.

Ares crumbles like dust. He stopped understanding war a long time ago. Senselessness topples heroism every time.

Aphrodite gets drunk on the sky again. She catches her reflection in the clouds. Her innocence has left her a long time ago.

Hermes runs through the streets. He is young, young and beautiful, and he knows it. As he slips away, his smile doesn’t.

Dionysus watches it all. He watches the family he once knew laugh and cry and forget. He never forgets. He’s been here a long time. He is watching them flicker out and fade.

The gods are dying. The gods are dead. The gods are us.

- @rustofstardust

So, I wrote it. On my phone. If there are more mistakes than usual, I am sorry.


The world didn’t end.

The first time Mulder and Scully kiss at the stroke of midnight leaving a decade and years of unresolved tension behind, the world doesn’t end.

Mulder jokes about it, Scully smiles at him softly. No, it didn’t, she answers. It’s a new world that they’ll discover and map out in the years to come.

The world didn’t end.

When Mulder returns from the dead, the world looks eerily the same. Except for Scully. He can’t stop staring at her protruding belly; a world in and of itself. One time, his eyes glued to the big bump under her straining cotton shirt, the baby kicks visibly and Mulder startles. Scully, unfazed, reading a medical journal, puts her hand on the spot and sighs deeply, more content than he’s ever seen her, when there’s another kick. Can I- Mulder starts, his hand reaching out in desperate need, and Scully lifts her head, smiles at him and takes his hand. Entwined with hers it lays on her stomach, feeling the miracle they made under his fingertips. The world doesn’t end; it expands.

The world didn’t end.

The date is set. Not in stone, but in some cosmic constellation; in the yellow teeth of the man who refuses to die. Maybe there is hope, he whispers to her in the dead of night while the rain outside pelts against the thin roof. He chances a glance over at the crib where their miracle, the future savior, sleeps with his mouth slightly open like a little bird. Love washes over him, intensifies when he looks at Scully. The determination in her eyes are his anchor. We won’t give up, she seals their fate with a soft kiss to his lips. He thought the world would end once she knew the truth. He thought it would crumble all around them, break them up, tear them apart. The world, here in this humble motel room, merely shifts.

The world didn’t end.

They stare at the calendar, listen to the clock tick, tick, tick. The three of them huddled together. Mulder and Scully stare at each other, communicate without words. William, in the middle, watches them both, tries to understand. The world is going to change, Mulder told him months ago, his voice breaking on the word change. End, he wanted to say, and couldn’t. Their son, their bright-eyed, brilliant son, still so young, so curious doesn’t deserve any of this. Nothing is happening, William giggles now; his mother’s long hair tickling his cheeks, his whole face. Did we get the wrong date? She wonders and Mulder shakes his head, grins at his son, kisses the love of his life, the savior of his sanity. Nothing happens that night, the next or any other. The world doesn’t end at all.

The world won’t end, Mulder thinks now, staring at his son sitting in front of him. The son who just confessed that his girlfriend is pregnant.

The boy’s legs are so long that their knees almost touch. Next to him Scully is quiet. He feels the rage inside of her boiling, bubbling up dangerously.

“I’m sorry.” The boy mumbles, his eyes on the ground, messy auburn hair falling in front of his face like a curtain. He forgot to brush it this morning.

“You’re sorry.” Scully repeats slowly, disbelief seeping into her voice. “We talked about this, William. We implored you to make informed choice. We thought…” She stops herself, pinching her nose, pressing her fists into her eyes.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” William’s voice, no longer that of a child’s, breaks, fills with tears, “I – we were always careful. I don’t know…I don’t know how it happened, mom. I don’t know.”

‘Don’t know’, Scully mouths at no one in particular. There are tears in her eyes, too. Angry, desperate tears that spill out despite herself.

“What are you going to do now?” Mulder asks their son who furiously wipes away his own tears with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. It used to be his, Mulder suddenly realizes with a start. It fits his son perfectly; neither too big nor too small.

“Do Sarah’s parents know that she’s…” Mulder can’t say it.

“Pregnant,” Scully says for him, the word loud in the living room, “She is pregnant.” As if she needs to remind herself, all three of them, what this is about.

“I suppose she told them,” William shrugs, “She didn’t want me there with her.”

“What are your plans now, William?” Mulder asks again.

“Uhm… it’s up to her?” He glances at Mulder, then at Scully, and they both wait for him to go on. “I told her that… I will support her. Whatever she decides.” Mulder feels a sense of pride, thinks that they must have done something right when they raised him.

“Support her. How, William? You’re both still in school. You were supposed to start college next year. You were looking forward to it.” Her voice wavers and Mulder reaches out, touches her hand, and she calms.

“I know that, mom,” tears stream down his face, “I didn’t want this to happen. I love Sarah. I do. I want to go to college, but I won’t leave her alone with this.” Mother and son stare at each other for a moment, Mulder is merely a bystander now, can only watch helplessly, and before he knows it, Scully reaches out and grabs her son, their baby, and hugs him tightly. William starts crying in earnest as Scully’s own tears get lost in his hair. Mulder gives them this moment, a short fraction of time until he can’t take it anymore and joins in. Hugging his family, assuring them that it will be fine, that they’ll make it through, no matter what.

“This is not the end of the world,” Mulder breathes against the side of Scully’s face and a moment later she chuckles; there’s still profound sadness, but it seems to lift, seems to disappear just like their tears. Together they’re unstoppable. Together they’ll make it through. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

The world still doesn’t end.

potatoesareimportant  asked:

"you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital" nalu pleeeeasse

Natsu’s heart stutters to a stop as he nears the hospital room. His pulse roars in his ears, overwhelming, drowning out the sounds around him. Fingers graze the doorknob, but he hesitates, stomach twisting sickly at the thought of what he might find beyond the white walls. Natsu inhales sharply, imagining Lucy—bright, happy, smiling Lucy—lying on the other side, broken. Mouth going dry, Natsu swallows thickly. Teeth scrape along his lower lip, biting until the skin splits and he can taste blood on his tongue. His chest tightens, an invisible hand curling around his heart and squeezing.

When he answered the phone earlier he thought for sure his heart had been ripped clear through his rib cage, shattering bone and puncturing lungs. He simply couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel anything for the longest time, could barely hear himself think as the words kept echoing through his head.

He never liked the word accident, but not he thinks he might hate it.

It’s been three months and a handful of days since he last saw her, since they ended things. He thought he was over it, done, but maybe he’s just spent too long lying to himself. He’s always been good at that.

The door creaks as he pushes it open, squealing loudly before banging against the wall roughly, a thunderclap in an otherwise silent area. He should feel bad about the noise, given where he is, but Natsu simply can’t bring himself to care.

Inside the room a head snaps up, hazy, brown eyes locking with his, startled and confused. Wispy, wild hair tumbles over the girl’s shoulders, half-pulled away from her pretty face with a pair of clips to leave the bandage along her temple uncovered. Her eyes widen as she sees him, her lips parting just the slightest. She stares, unblinking, as if he’s a ghost—her ghost.

“Lucy,” he breathes, voice cracking, heart in his throat. He steps farther into the room, hands trembling at his sides as he takes her in: disheveled and exhausted, but still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Lucy,” he says again, suddenly able to breathe again.

Her lips tremble. “Natsu?” she croaks, voice thick and afraid, but her shoulders relax when she sees him, a light flickering in her eyes. “What are you—”

He crosses the room in two steps and she cuts off as he cups her face in his shaking hands, her skin clammy beneath his burning fingers. Natsu ducks down, crouching to meet her gaze, his thumbs brushing along her cheeks, wiping at stray tears and flecks of blood and dirt. Her own hand comes up to clutch at his wrist, her fingers freezing as she clings to him, nails biting into his skin. He only holds her tighter, searching her expression for any discomfort.

“Are you okay?” he asks her, swallowing thickly as she quivers. Blood dots the bandage on her temple, and the hand not caught in hers slides along her cheek briefly, his finger ghosting along the edge of the bandage. She flinches and he pulls back, palm pressed to her cheek. “What happened?” It comes out more demanding than intended, but if it startles Lucy she certainly doesn’t show it. He figures she’s put up with him for so long that she’s simply desensitized.

Her fingers curl tighter around his wrist, her free hand knotting in the bed sheets roughly. Her leg jiggles where it’s tossed over the edge of the mattress, her knee bumping against his briefly. A nervous tick, he knows.

Lucy tries to smile for him, but it comes out watery. Her lips tremble against the edge of his palm, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. God, but does she try to smile. “I’m fine,” she tells him softly, squeezing his hand slowly, “just a concussion.” His lips part, a protest on his tongue, but Lucy continues before he can ask what happened. “Natsu, what are you doing here?”

A lump builds in his throat when she says his name, his heart clenching. It sounds familiar on her tongue, sweet as honey and twice as thick. He hadn’t realized it was something he missed until just now. He hadn’t realized it was something he could miss.

His fingers stroke along her cheek and she leans into his hand. Her gaze is expectant, questioning, though not unfriendly. The last time they saw each other left them on bad terms, but they seem to be forgotten now. “They called me,” he murmurs, barely able to manage more than a breathy whisper as he stares down at her. “Emergency contact.”

Lucy is silent for a long moment, though she doesn’t protest as his fingers continue to peruse her cheeks, her jaw, the length of her neck, his thumbs barely brushing against her collarbone, just barely visible beneath her scarf. He thinks he should stop staring, touching her like he was scared to death of losing her, but he’s willing to admit that for a moment he felt the world beginning to crumble around him when he got that phone call.

Her lips brush along his palm, not quite touching and not quite kissing. “You shouldn’t be here,” she tells him, voice cracking. She quivers, fingers squeezing around his wrist, and Natsu slips a hand down to cradle the side of her neck, just below her jaw.

“Lucy,” he breathes, tilting her chin gently so that she meets his eyes. He wonders if she can see the raw, biting terror there, lingering just beneath the surface. Natsu swallows, wets his lips, then tilts his head down to rest his temple against hers, his arm sliding around her back and pulling her close, as if he could swallow her whole. Lucy makes a home against his rib cage, curling close to him, her own arms winding around his torso and holding him close. “I would be here even if they didn’t call me,” he whispers against her hair, the beating of his heart growing steady, echoing hers.

Lucy doesn’t ask why and he doesn’t explain, instead they stitch themselves together, hands curling though hair and arms consuming the other.

somebody else // stiles stilinski pt. 5

Summary: Stiles broke her heart and now she can never look at him the same. They remained friends, but she can’t exactly find it in herself to truly forgive Stiles and he doesn’t know how to accept her new relationship with the one person he can’t stand. Overtime, they both eventually got over each other… or have they? 

Requested: no, collab with @minhosmeanhoe 

Warning: yes, mature language & themes

Inspired by this song


Nothing had ever compared to the emptiness she felt inside. She was absolutely sure that she felt her heart break at his harsh words. Her throat felt permanently closed and she felt like she couldn’t breath. It felt like there was a rock in her stomach where there were once butterflies.

Regret washed over her as she replayed the heart wrenching moment over and over again. How could she have been so foolish? What did she think would happen? A small part of her hoped that once they kissed and her lips returned to their familiar home that things could go back to normal. How could she have been so naive? Nothing was ever going to go back to normal because there never was a normal.

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Another bug! Her name is Iris and she’s a guard captain and skilled duelist. She’s very stern and aggressive and demands respect from foes and allies alike. Unlike Holloway she never ‘abandoned’ her people and shares their hostility and untrusting nature. She clings to order and duty and looks down on his idealism despite their world crumbling around her.

lost thoughts

Originally posted by yixingsosweet

Title: lost thoughts

Pairing: Kim Minseok/Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU.  You hear your soul mate’s thoughts inside your head since the moment they/you are born.

Summary: The sound of his voice inside her head brings a smile to her face or a frown to her features. If only Minseok wasn’t so teasing maybe things would be a little bit easier.

If only her mind could shut up for three seconds, she would be able to study.

And she really meant those words, without caring that she liked neither this topic nor studying whatsoever, but she really needed to pass this exam, yet, the voice on her head kept singing hit songs, thinking about food and some other dirty thought that would cross their heads. Not that she had two voices inside her head, one coming from a male and the other completely hers…but it was rather something she was born with. All her life she had heard the voice of her soul mate and she’d like to think it’s beautiful –and in some way it is- but at this point, it was annoying. She had heard his voice as a kid, mostly talking about how he had lost a game with his friends and asking who she was, then when he was a teenager he would be colder…slightly lost in the feeling of going through puberty and finding new lovers, and now…the man that she recognized as Minseok was nothing more than doing anything to get her riled up.

From what he thought, she could tell that Minseok was a pretty vivid and lively person. Sometimes he thought about his friends, giving them presents or teasing them as a way of showing them his love. Other times, he simply thought about food and how grumpy he was because he was hungry. From what she knew, he was on summer break at this moment and she was taking classes in the summer, hence why she was so mad because he was doing this on purpose. Back when they were both children, they didn’t know that they could have a full conversation with their thoughts, but now that he learnt that he could talk to her and hear her just from thinking…he used it to his will.

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Be My ♥ Color

a/n: be more chill x soulmate au. :o if you wanna be tagged in the series letmeknow.kbyethanx. Updates on Thursdays & Sundays. Any Filipino friends/readers wanna help me out :0 Michael being biracial I wanna have a little more substance to him. I’m hispanic so I have one side of him covered but its unfair to only depict that side. I’d love the input/help to give Michael all of his canon qualities ^^ pleaseandthankyou
summary:  Jeremy Heere never knew he missed something until he realized he was living a world not only devoid of colors but of a soulmate. After a terrible incident he’s found himself chasing after colors he wants; and realizing there are some colors he needs as well.
warning: He’s a mean one, Mr. Squip
w/c: ~3.1k
sincerely tagging:
@guns-and-squips (betabae); @mishaisakitten@fandomgeek34@theunidentifiedfangirl @gayrhodians @ka-rin7204 @nekothecatblog @binxi1031 @spilling-tea @loststardraws @green-llama @walkingcontadiction @purpledays9@bouquetofllamas@hacks-the-trash @spoiledbuni @angryhatefulcoffee-man @gum-and-chips @redhoodiehearts @icouldhaveabettername@bemoresquip@anxiouscassette @bigdumbpigeon @blind-duck@multiotp @cherry-chree@violentwonders @memejocksupreme@fruityfrootloops @optimisticweirdo@beafayette @bacongirl86@ho-tdogwater @cloudydoodle@treebrosofficial@hamilamstrash @artsietango @bellatrixmld@strawberrrylips @vermilion-blues @ 8955342113853211 @bellatrixmld @strawberrrylips @chessy-is-confused @treebrosofficial @cough-syyrup @imfeelingay

04.←Enter to Continue →.05

“What do you mean we WON’T be doing a Midsummer Night’s Dream!” Christine groaned after being peeled off the ground and placed on a chair, holding  an ice pack someone had run to the nurse and got for her. She looked up at Mr. Squip then turned to Mr. Reyes who didn’t seem as bothered about all this as Christine.

“Mr.Squip and …the board suggested a slightly …different approach so we can attract more of a crowd this year.” He explained calmly.

Christine shook her head and slowly placed the ice pack aside. “What’s wrong with Shakespeare’s approach on theater!?”

“He’s DEAD, Canigula, let him go.” Mr. Reyes sighed, then slowly walked over to her and whispered. “The popular kids are going to be lending a hand, with them on board we have a chance of saving the theater!”

“But sir, since when does the theater sell out it’s morals like this?” She pressed one final time.

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anonymous asked:

hi, love your 3x20 meltdown! :) oh and how about their lips never parted with that flip!! but I just stared at the gifs of Felicity walking away in Nanda parbat and him looking destroyed af... so a prompt idea, in the lines of something like them now getting back together and Oliver saying to F. that he watched her walk away two times and he couldnt survive a third... well something like that, I'm sure you'd make it more interesting than me here :)

Last Moment (Olicity, 5x20 spec fic, Explicit)

Thank you, anon! And oh yes it absolutely kills me how their lips never parted. P-e-r-f-e-c-t-i-o-n.

For the sake of this ficlet, let’s pretend there is going to be a parallel between 3x20 and 5x20 (*crosses fingers*) and instead of Nanda Parbat, it’s Russia. This includes Oliver/Susan of Season 5 paralleling Felicity/Ray of Season 3 (they break up). 

This is the morning after. (Slight Angst Warning)

Please see the end for my additional Olicity thoughts in Season 5 re: this ficlet.

(Read on AO3)


Oliver watched her.

Her movements were mechanical… no, they were methodical, each move planned with a deliberateness that he recognized all too well. There was nothing playful or bashful, nothing that spoke to what had just happened. Not that he expected it. Some part of him had known this was coming when he knocked on her door last night, when he saw the tiny crack in her facade, when he touched her cheek and she leaned into him, sighing with a heaviness he felt in his soul. He did the same thing when facing a moment that might be his last - compartmentalize, just to get through the next minute, and the next, and the next.

She had to, for what she was walking into.

Acid burned in his chest, but he forced himself to stay quiet, wanting to just watch her for a little bit longer. He didn’t say anything as she pulled her pants on, buttoning them. Her bra was next, followed by her shirt and then her jacket.

She was leaving, like he knew would happen. And he knew he had to let her, but god, he didn’t want to.

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Undeniable Heat Chapter 19: Bruised and Battered

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1300 Words

Story Summary:  You’ve just gotten a job as one of the makeup artists on the set of Supernatural. Nervous on the first day, you become completely awkward, winning the affection of the divorced Jensen Ackles. You try to fight your desire for him, but he thwarts you at every turn. Will you be able you separate work and play, or will you let Jensen win?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Jensen’s P.O.V.

After throwing back a couple of shots, I felt more comfortable, more in control. As if my entire world wasn’t crumbling around me once again. Lounging on the couch, the empty tumbler dangling from my fingers, I sighed as yet another text from Jared sounded from my phone. “Damn it.” I muttered, finally picking it up. I had ignored the first two, but I knew he wouldn’t give up until he got an answer from me.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Was the first one. “Damn it Jensen, you’re just causing yourself more heartache. Go talk to her. And let me know what happens.” The third one had me shaking my head. “If I don’t get a reply from you in the next thirty minutes I’m coming over and locking the two of you in a room.”

I had no idea why Jared was so intent on my relationship with Y/N. But he had been from the moment I had spoken about her. Maybe it was because she was the first girl I had shown any interest in after Danneel. Or maybe it was because he knew me better than anyone, and he knew how much I had come to care for her in such a short period of time.

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Nobody Touches The Queen

I should be writing an essay for university but I’m writing Nessian angst instead so here, have this and enjoy! :D

She knew now that hope was for fools, that the world was wretched and cruel and that hate and coldness and the walls she had built around herself were the only things that would keep her safe. She knew that to open yourself to anyone meant to show another person exactly how to hurt you in the most painful way. She knew she would never do that again.

Read on AO3

Nesta didn’t think she could ever fall in love. She didn’t even believe in love.

After months of watching her father do nothing while her mother – the woman who had loved him with every ounce of her being ever since Nesta could remember, and the woman who he claimed he loved back – slowly wilted away, Nesta decided there was no such thing as love.

She decided that love made you weak. Love made you wait around for a miracle, instead of demanding what you needed of the people who claimed to love you. That’s what her mother had done. Nesta felt like she was betraying her every time she thought about what had happened like this but she couldn’t help but blame her mother as well as her father.

She blamed her mother for looking at him with love in her eyes until her dying breath. She blamed her for being so blinded by love that she didn’t see him for the weak, pathetic coward that he was. She blamed her for loving him and accepting his actions and not demanding he help her find a way to get what she deserved. She had deserved to live…

She absolutely despised him, about that she had no shame. She loathed how he let her mother die. It was all his fault. If he had really loved her he would have gone to the end of the world to try and keep her with him. With them.

If her father had truly loved them, his daughters, he would have tried more to make sure that they didn’t starve, didn’t freeze, didn’t grow up way before they were supposed to. She had days where she despised him so much that she wished she would die. That maybe then he would finally see what his complacency has caused and he would learn to take better care of Elain and Feyre. But she couldn’t do that. Deep down she knew that her death would mean nothing than perhaps more suffering for her sisters and her father wouldn’t have changed his ways.

She hated Feyre for enabling him. She hated her for stepping up and doing what he should have done from the very beginning, caring for them and for not letting their circumstances turn her into a cold and bitter person – the two things Nesta hadn’t managed to do.

Nesta knew how to hate. How to despise. How to loathe. How to detest. She didn’t know how to love. And she was certain she didn’t want to learn.

But when she looked into his soft eyes, framed by crinkles that appeared more prominent when he flashed his lopsided grin, she swore she could feel her heart thawing. She watched him with wide eyes as he told her stories of all the places he had been to, all the wonders he had seen and he promised to take her away and show her everything too. He was her escape and he promised to take her away from all the hate and bitterness in her life. He clasped her delicate hand into his warm one and promised her safety, promised she wouldn’t have to worry about anything for the rest of her life, promised he would care for her and Nesta knew then that she wouldn’t mind learning how to love if this was a fraction of what it felt like - if it meant being this happy. And she was happy. For the first time in her life she was truly happy but only allowed it to show in secret. With him.

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anonymous asked:

I love your writing! Especially the latest one about Jamie and Claire staying at Leoch and not going on rent collection. I hope you continue it in Drabble or fic x

…as you wish…

The strong castle walls had begun closing in around Claire. Brick after brick seemed to mock her, their crumbling facias concealing the world beyond.


It felt as if she were incarcerated, left to rot in the highlands with no real escape back to her own future. 

Trapped inside Leoch, she took companionship where she could find it. Mrs Fitz kept her mind and her hands occupied and more often than not she would be allowed to collect medical supplies from Geillis. 

And then there was Jamie.

Jamie had been an almost constant unseen presence. Wherever she went, she could be sure he’d be close by - ever-watchful - ensuring her safety. Since his constant string of injuries, she’d yet to make his acquaintance once more and something inside her ached at that loss. 

Rubbing her chest unconsciously, Claire shrugged off the soft pulse that niggled at her insides. Glancing across the bustling castle courtyard, she spied him laughing openly with Rupert and Ned, the castle accountant for all intents and purposes. Sighing softly to herself, she hitched her skirts and continued on with her business, ignoring the tiny voice at the back of her mind that bid her go over and talk to him.

It would do her no good to make close friends here - when she still planned to be away as soon as humanly possible - and she suspected herself and Jamie would never be able to keep their companionship casual. 

No, better to keep her distance from him altogether. 

Catching a glimpse of Claire out of the corner of his eye, Jamie stood his ground, his mind whirring with a myriad of possibilities. 

He could see the indecision in her uncertain steps. He could almost sense the inbuilt desire that festered blindly within her. But it would do him no good to force her hand. In time he knew she’d allow her curiosity to get the better of her. Then she’d come to him of her own volition and he’d be able to forge the relationship with her he so desperately pined for. 

“Let the lassie come to you first,” he heard the ghost of his father whisper to him as the vulgar joke Rupert had begun telling them completely passed him by. His spine tingled at the brief flash of memory, something he recalled Brian Fraser imparting to his brother, Willie, only a number of months before his sickness and subsequent death.

Aye, father, he thought, a slight smile tugging at his lips, I can wait for her.

Be Okay - Karamel One Shot.

Her world stopped 6 months ago. Then it started spinning again, at a much slower pace, so slow it ached her heart. It was so slow, sometimes it didn’t feel like it was moving, and she relived that day again and again. Every night, she hoped she would fall asleep immediately without dreaming of him: on the other hand, she craved his presence so much she would’ve given everything she had to see him in her dreams, to hold him, to touch him, to talk to him again.
It’s not like everyone else’s world stopped.

Like for Alex.
Alex proposed to Maggie on the same night Kara’s world stopped: she was obviously over the moon for her sister’s engagement, but how could she really celebrate Alex finding the love of her life if she had just lost hers?
Selfish- Kara knew that, so she kept quiet.
Kara has been okay for 6 months. Kara was okay. That’s how she replied to her dear ones, whenever they showed their concern over her. She never stepped into the alien bar again, unless Supergirl had to save someone there; she was doing great at CatCo, she still butted heads with Snapper but, everything was great. Most of the days. Some days.
But she was Supergirl, right? She doesn’t bend or break. She had to be okay. Supergirl saved the world, everyone loved Supergirl, everyone praised Supergirl for saving National City from the Daxamite invasion, but Kara couldn’t stand hearing that word.
But she had to be okay, because she was Supergirl, and as a superhero, she must’ve been strong and never break. Then why did everyone around Kara treated her like she was about to crumble?

She hid the tears in her eyes with a laugh, she muffled the horrendous feelings she felt with a smile. She had to be okay, because if she wasn’t, it would’ve affected everyone else. And Alex..she couldn’t ruin Alex’s mood, she was the happiest she’d ever been, Kara could easily see that, she loved her sister too much to make a bad move and ruin everything, so she calculated her actions: the time for smiles, for jokes, silly stories, it was pretty believable. Kara didn’t know how long that farce would’ve lasted but…she would’ve kept it up until she could.
“Do you like this dress, Maid of Honor?”
“I love it!”
“You said it for every dress you’ve tried on, c'mon..what’s your favorite?”
“Alex, I’m serious, I like them all! Which one do you prefer?”
“Kara, you’re nerve wracking. Pick one.”
“The blue one.” She sighed, she just wanted that wedding madness to be over.
“Great! It would’ve been a mess if you didn’t pick up a dress three days before the ceremony.”
Alex’s phone rang twice before she picked it up.
“J'onn, I’m paying for Kara’s dress, can we tal– uhm, what? Emer- are you sure? Okay, I’m on my way.”
“Is everything okay? Do they need us at work?”
“No, no, it’s a minor thing, I can handle it.” Alex handed her credit card to the brunette woman and gave the shopping bag to her sister, before running away.

The big day had arrived, the ceremony was very intimate, less than 20 people were in attendance, mostly colleagues of the two women. Maggie wore a suit, with a dark blue tie, her eyes lit up as soon as Alex entered the room, Kara could sense the love the two soon-to-be wives shared with just one look; Alex deserved all the love in the world and Maggie’s love was pretty close to that amount. During the vows, sobs could be heard all over the place; it wasn’t a easy road for them, Kara remembered how she stood by Alex’s side in what was probably the hardest period of her life, figuring herself out. Yet she got the happiest of the endings.
Kara couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever find hers. She surely felt the happiest in the months she shared with him, she thought it was ridiculous how much a single person could have had such a great impact on her life, he changed everything, he turned her world upside down, he made her see things she had never seen before, he made her feel things she had never felt before, and she thought she wouldn’t ever feel such things..until he literally fell into her life. Kara had dreamed about finding that kind of love that makes you wanna laugh, cry, yell, jump, lie down, and she did find it. But she had lost it too.

Before she realized it, he was gone. But she had to be okay, she tried to suppress every thought of him, she could barely mention his name.
“It will get better.” She heard that sentence so many times, she almost believed it and repeated it to herself to get through the hardest days: that day was one of the hardest, undoubtedly.
Kara threw herself over the food, avoiding long conversations, trying to ignore the sappy songs the band was playing. Alex used to hate that music, yet, look at her, she was smiling so big, with tears of joy filling her eyes, swinging with her lover in her arms. Love could really change people, being in love, giving love, taking love, ripping love.. that was her case.
Kara’s love arrived so suddenly and unexpectedly, and it was ripped away in the same way. What she felt for him was so profound, she laughed at the idea of feeling anything slightly close to that for somebody else; what they shared was an unbreakable bond, and now that they were apart, she felt a thread pulling her to him, but she couldn’t move, she feared that that tie could’ve been broken. What if he never came back?
That question creeped in the back of her mind, like a monster under a child’s bed, she knew it was there, but she couldn’t fight it. Having superpowers is pointless when your own mind is your biggest weakness, she thought.

“Alex, my beautiful sister-” Kara stood up with a glass in her hand “-and Maggie, you amazing woman, I’m so glad that you two found each other. Maggie, you make my sister the happiest person on Earth, and I’m eternally grateful to you for that, and I know how you would do anything to protect her, literally. I don’t– I know love is hard, finding love is hard, being together is hard, balancing that with a job that puts you in danger everyday is hard. But you kept fighting for it, that’s the most important never let each other go..and you made your happy ending. In a world full of sadness and negativity, you give me hope. You showed me that no matter how many–how many obstacles you will go through, you will overcome them, because you’ll stay at each other’s side. R-ride or die, right? I’m thankful for having you in my life. I love you.”
At this point Kara went to hug the two women, her tears falling on their shoulders. She had reached her breaking point.
She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay.
“I’m proud of you, Kara. I love you.” The older sister held the younger like in one of those nights, when she first arrived on Earth, she had recurring nightmares and she felt alone and..lost.

Kara felt an electric shock, going through her bones and skin: there was a shift in the air, she thought it could’ve been the sense of peace coming after releasing all the emotions she had bottled up for months, but something in the atmosphere had changed. She closed her eyelids, but she felt her sister turning around, pulling away.
She heard that voice. His voice.
Her eyes opened quickly, making sure that it was a mirage but..she saw him. Standing in front of her.
Everyone was staring in his direction, so it probably wasn’t an hallucination. She stepped closer to his silhouette, slowly and carefully, almost afraid that a wrong move would’ve made him disappear.
He didn’t move, he was just looking at her with expectancy, she hadn’t reacted. She recognized those eyes and she touched his face. “Mon-El?” Kara hadn’t pronounced those two syllables out loud for so long, her lips felt a weird sensation.
His palm touched hers on his cheek, her knees felt weak; “H-how?”
He gave her a weak smile and she didn’t even let him reply. She just sobbed into his strong arms, burying her face in his neck. Her necklace was still there. Kara knew there was a bunch of (confused) people around them, but she couldn’t care at all. Mon-El was back with her. She was okay. She was more than okay.

“Please, tell me I’m not dreaming.” Kara whispered through the tears. “Because I feel your arms around me.” She chuckled bitterly, thinking about the dreams she had about him.
“This isn’t a dream.” He cupped her face smiling, resting his forehead on hers like always.
Somebody started clapping and she hated it: but at least it made it real, Mon-El was with them.
Kara grabbed his hand and led him out of everyone’s sight, still in complete shock, with tears streaming down her face.
“How did this happen? The lead in the atmosphere..are you okay?”
Every question was followed by a touch, just to be sure, again, he was really there.
“I am okay. Well, when I went away..I got into a portal that got me to the 31st century. A group of heroes helped me find a cure to get back to you, and in the meantime..I became the hero you thought I could be. I helped them saving the world multiple times, I’ve been called a hero multiple times, but you were my inspiration behind all of that. You were in my heart the whole time, and you helped me get through my weakest times. I know it’s been 6 months for you.. But it’s been almost 2 years for me. Yet..nothing changed.” He touched her blonde hair, while she processed all the information she got in such a short time.

“So, you aren’t allergic to lead anymore?”
“Nope.” He took a deep breath.
Kara threw herself in his arms and Mon-El picked her up to spin her around. “When did you arrive, though?”
He scratched his chin, “3 days ago, but I didn’t want to go to you immediately..I didn’t know if you moved on, and..”
“Mon-El.. how could I move on? I love you. Even if now I’m mad at you for hiding for three damn days? Where did you go?” She playfully hit his arm, but her eyebrows shot up.
“I went to the DEO first, praying that you wouldn’t have been there, but I found out that you were out shopping for the wedding. I can’t even lie, I almost thought that you were the bride. I felt so relieved when J'onn told me that Alex was getting married, I’m so so happy for them..” He chuckled lightheartedly. “I explained that I didn’t want to see you right away, he called Alex, and we set up a plan.. I stayed at Winn’s place. And here I am.”
“Wow. This is..unbelievable. These months..were hard. It was like I was surrounded by a wall of glass, I could see everyone’s joy but I couldn’t take part in it. I can’t even comprehend how you could do this for almost 2 years.”

“I had hope, you taught me to be hopeful. I knew that everything would’ve been alright.”
“I hated this sentence for all these months, who would’ve thought that they were right, after all?” Kara smiled, truly, her lover mirrored her expression.
“Kara..” Their fingers intertwined on her flowy dress.
“I really need to do something.” His voice lowered, Kara felt shivers.
“I really need to kiss you, or I’ll go crazy. May I?”
Kara cupped his face and simply replied with her lips on his, it tasted like the oxygen she felt missing in her lungs, it tasted like happiness. It tasted like a happy ending, or better, a brand new happy beginning.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you even more.”
“It’s good to say it when neither of us are crying.”
“It feels really good.” Kara laughed and hid her face in the crook of his neck, she missed being this carefree and..happy: like that Dopey grin, butterflies in her stomach happy.


AND HERE IT IS! 😁😁 I hope I can write some more content for the fam during this hiatus, but finding inspiration is pretty hard.😪 I know it’s not the best, but I tried and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think in my inbox or in the reblogs maybe, love you allllll!😘😘😘❤❤


Relationship: Bucky x Reader

“Hey can I request something? x Could you maybe write a bucky x reader oneshot/series based on Liability by Lorde it can end angsty or fluffy i dont mind but i really like this song and i love your writing❤️” [Anon]

A/N: It’s an angst and I suck at angsts. Based on this song which I hadn’t heard before but I actually like it. Not sure if this is what you wanted but it’s where my mind took me when listening to the song.

Warnings: None, I don’t think I swore which is shocking.

Words: 1488

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

No relationship is perfect. They have their ups and their downs. But, just like every other relationship, this one seemed perfect and you let yourself believe it would work.

But, just like every other time, you’re watching your heart be crushed in his hands as you spew words just as venomous as his. Every word chips away at your soul.

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A Funny Feeling - Superboy x Reader - Part Two

Part One

Happy Birthday, Anon!!

Requested by Anon -  So my favourite story of yours is “A Funny Feeling”, and as its my birthday soon i was wondering if i could maybe request a part 2?

Requested by Anon -  Hi i just read a funny feeling and for some reason it really hit me. Can you do a part 2 with connor experiencing more feeling?

Requested by Anon - Any chance for a second part where the reader has to go home and Connor gets a funny feeling that is like sadness/grief or something?? 

Requested by Anon - a part 2 to A Funny Feeling where the Reader has been on the team a couple of years and is in a relationship with connor, but then the league find a way to send them home and they have to decide whether to stay or not, or something? 

Requested by whatsmy-ageagain -  I love your imagines!! Especially A Funny Feeling!!! Any chance for a part 2?! 

“You know, I’ve never seen the stars this bright,” you said, leaning back against Conner’s chest. He pressed a kiss to your head, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you on his lap as Sphere flew the two of you slowly over the ocean. The two of you were so far out, the city lights seemed almost as distant as the stars above.

“I figured you would enjoy it,” Conner mumbled into your ear. You hummed, resting your head on his shoulder to gaze at the stars. Two years had passed since the day you fell into his world. You and Conner had been together for most of those two years. Somehow, being with Conner made you miss your home less. 

The two of you sat in silence for a long time. It wasn’t until Conner cleared his throat did you speak again. You sat up, turning slightly to look at him. “What?”

Conner blushed, giving you a shy smile. “I was just thinking about something,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. 

“You seem to be thinking about it pretty hard,” you teased, touching your nose to his. He smirked at you as you settled back against him. 

“I was just thinking about the future,” he began softly. He nuzzled your hair. “Our future.”

“Really?” you asked curiously, prompting him to continue. 

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. “Yeah, I was thinking about maybe where we’d live, what we’d do, if I’d still be part of the team, if we’ll have kids…” Conner rambled, blushing at the last part. You threw a glance at him, giving him a playful smile.

“You really have been thinking a lot,” you amazed, your smile falling into a melancholy one.

Conner frowned, worriedly. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” you replied quickly, adjusting yourself in his lap to face him. You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’ve had the same thoughts about our future, especially since it doesn’t look like I’ll ever get home.” You frowned slightly, missing your home once again. It always hit you once or twice a day, eating at your heart. 

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Conner said softly, reaching to brush away a tear that slipped down your cheek. You ducked your head, trying to control yourself. “I’m sorry you were taken from your home, but I’m glad you are here.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love being here with you, Conner,” you reassured, meeting his eye. “I can’t imagine my life without you, but I miss my family. It kills me to think they don’t know where I am or if I’m okay…”

“I know,” Conner soothed, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a hug. You accepted it, taking a sniff of his shirt. He smelled so good, almost like home. 

The moment was interrupted when Sphere beeped about an incoming transmission from the cave. You and Conner traded looks before you turned around in his lap to face the console as Batman appeared in front of you on a floating screen.

“Superboy, (Y/N), return to the cave,” Batman’s voice ordered through the transmission. 

Conner growled, glaring at Batman. “We requested tonight off.” You bit your lip to hide a smile as Batman narrowed his eyes.

“Return to the cave now,” Batman repeated sternly, cutting off the transmission. You turned to look at Conner in confusion.

“What do you think he wants?” you asked as Sphere flew the two of you back to the cave. Conner frowned, shrugging his shoulders. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the horrible wrenching feeling in his chest as if everything he loved was about to be taken away. 

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a/n: so, I’ve been slow with catching up with the 100 lately (exams do that to you), but today I finally got the chance to watch the latest episode. and let me tell you, I wanted to throw something at my screen. clarke’s conflicting emotions over her decision and how it affects bellamy (and her mother) vs. bellamy’s drive to save his sister and the need to prove clarke’s skepticism wrong, all brought to a sudden end when the scene cuts off with clarke bringing her hand down and letting bellamy go. i’m sorry, where’s my resolve? emotional backlash? hurt feelings? where’s my bellamy and clarke get to talk like in season 3 where he confronts her about her leaving him? where’s my bellamy telling her off her high horse? where’s my clarke says she’s sorry scene? where’s my- well, you get it. 

and since i got nothing of that, i decided to spin my take on it. so have a 4x11 missing scene that will hopefully let you breathe a little easier (worked for me)

together or not at all (ao3)

He looked at her one last time, at the gun hanging from her hand, at her face - and God, Clarke felt that look spreading like poison through her lungs, making every breath a struggle - and then kept on climbing the stairs, heavy steps fading into nothing as he neared the hatch.

Her fingers were numb from clutching the gun, her wrist hurting from the pressure of having it pointed at him and not wanting to shoot him at the same time. Her eyes stung from her tears and the air rattled inside her ribcage. Then, like a puppet having had its strings cut, she stumbled back few steps, feeling dizzy, weak, and leaned on the wall behind her, sliding down on the floor, the gun slipping from her hand.

The tears keep on sliding down her cheeks and she doesn’t try to fight them. She figured that was how the monuments of the Old World felt when the nuclear bombs hit them - empty, cold, crumbling to dust, big hunks of stone and metal reduced to shadows of themselves, having lost all that made them stand proud and represent an idea.

Her left hand, the one that had pulled the trigger on him, was shaking. Clarke brought it to her face and laughed, let out a sob, was this what she had become?

One sob turned into a second one, into a third one, until she was heaving with the force of her crying, arms around her legs and pulled tight against her body, rocking back and forth in a desperate attempt to keep the panic away.

She had let Bellamy open the bunker. She had doomed her people to a possible death. She had risked the fate of the human race. She had lied and gone behind the backs of people she had claimed to care about only for it to be just another hollow promise, another hollow explanation,  another deceit born out of desperation and having the world rest on her shoulders.

She took a shot but couldn’t pull the trigger, not on him. And there laid the problem.

Her ears still rang with the sound of Bellamy’s voice, with the noise from the bullet. When did she become this girl, this woman? When did she lose herself in the desperate attempt to always have all the answers, to always be right?

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