the coolness disput

serendipia-s  asked:

congrats on 1.5k Mel!!!! 🎉💜 i love your writing and I have a prompt for you: bellarke soulmates au where the first words they say to you are tattoed on your body. person A: I can't believe dumbledore dies! person B: really? at a midnight release, asshole? I don't mind who's who. thanks 😌

ahhh thank you Scarlet <3 tagging @cabeswaterblakes too just to make sure you get your fic!

YOUR BELLARKE FIC:

no pause, no rewind

[also on ao3]

As far as the whole soulmates thing goes, Bellamy’s never been much of a believer.

It’s just kind of hard to see the point, really. His mother didn’t seem to care much when she had him with a guy who wasn’t her soulmate and, as far as Bellamy can tell, took off as soon as he could get his shoes on. She certainly didn’t seem to care much either when she decided to have a second kid with some other random, who knocked her up and got cold feet a mere month before Octavia was born.

Unfortunate life circumstances aside, he supposes the bulk of his disbelief stems from impracticality. There’s just too much logistical baggage to worry about. Like, what if this person’s supposed to be the one person meant for you, but they’re already married to someone else? What if you meet your soulmate on some completely off chance in a foreign city, and then find out that the two of you live thousands of miles apart? What if something happens — an accident or an unexpected tragedy or something — that changes who they are beyond repair or recourse?

Or — and this is, without a doubt, miles worse — what if you’re like his sister, Octavia, and all you have written on your palm is a simple ‘hi’?

That’s it. ‘Hi’.

Octavia could literally have a thousand soulmates. That’s fucking terrifying.

(She insists that she’ll know when it’s the right person. The right ‘hi’, out of the millions she’s bound to hear throughout her life. She’s just gonna know, some way, somehow. And he’s the crazy one for being skeptical.)

She’s always told him he’s an idiot, simply for having rational concerns. Yeah, well, it’s not like she’s ever had to deal with the words ‘Really? At a midnight release, asshole?’ emblazoned across the inside of her forearm in loopy cursive.

“A midnight release, Bell,” she’d say to him whenever he grumbled, grabbing his wrist to point emphatically at the words. “You know where you’re going to meet your soulmate. You know when, too! Don’t you realise how lucky you are?”

Lucky. Yeah, right. Tell that to all the mothers tutting disapprovingly at twelve-year-old him, ushering their kids away like he’s got a myriad of other swear words tattooed all over the rest of his body.

(Why the fuck did he have to get such a fucking foul-mouthed soulmate?!)

And yet, for all his disbelief, it doesn’t quite stop his stomach from turning discomforting little flips whenever he goes to a midnight release for anything, whether it’s a book or a movie or a stupid video game.

Even so, here he is, twenty-three years old, with dozens of midnight releases under his belt, and — nope. Still no soulmate.

It’s a good thing, he supposes. The longer his soulmate takes to show up, the longer he has to gather rational, concrete evidence against this whole melodramatic affair of a genetic arrangement. By the time he does meet his soulmate, he’s pretty sure he’ll be fully capable of presenting a solid argument on why both of them deserve to be let off this very stupid hook.

In the meantime, he can focus on all the other things in his life. 

Stuff that’s actually important.

Stuff like the upcoming release of the latest Harry Potter movie.

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Out of the Frying Pan (29/?)

“What’s his deal?” Ariel pressed, nodding towards the hallway. Killian shrugged, tapping his heel loudly and Ariel crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “You learn that from Regina? You tap your foot when you’re angry.”


“That’s never happened in my life.”

“And you do that hair thing. But everyone knows that. Even Emma knew that and that was long before you and her were making out everywhere.”

“No one is making out anywhere.”

“You are. Everywhere. Including in front of the bar last night. You’ve stopped even pretending to care. I don’t mind, but you might want to consider your customers.”

AN: I love Roland Locksley and Ariel and I just want to give Killian Jones all the family he can handle. Here is like…7K worth of that. @laurnorder had a ridiculous amount of typos to fix in this one, so also go tell her she’s awesome. And then tell @distant-rose she makes beautiful aesthetics. 

Living it up on Ao3 and tag’ed on Tumblr

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