The 100: Preferences and Imagines

1. How You Met

A/N: Just some quick notes before I start:                                                                                                        

1. I don't write smut                                                                                                                                                    

2. I will take requests for imagines and preferences. If they are for a character that appears in seasons 1-6, I will probably do it, even if I don't typically include them. 

3. Please don't take my writing. If you are inspired and want to make an imagine similar to mine, that's fine. But if you want to use my preferences/imagines word for word, please ask me (I'll probably say yes). 

4. If you like these, then comment an vote (if you want). If you don't like it, then I'm sorry, but, uh... I don't know, it's not a big deal if you don't like them.

HOW YOU MET

Bellamy: (Season 1)

The brother of the girl who hid under the floor seems to think he is in charge. It isn't right. He isn't even one of the prisoners. 

But he is the oldest. And, apparently, one of the dumbest. 'Whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want' won't work for long. You know that. You've read Lord of the Flies. 

"Bellamy!" 

Right, that was his name. You aren't good at remembering names. 

You watch a boy with red spikes on the shoulder of his jacket talk to him. You decide to do the same.

"Bellamy, right?"

"Yeah."

You frown at his curt response. "None of this is a good idea," you say, looking around at the camp.

"What are you talking about?"

Your scowl deepens. "We need to stop partying and start figuring out how not to die."

You start to walk away, but you feel a warm hand grip your wrist. "And how do you propose we do that, sweetheart?"

Murphy: (Season 2/3)

You keep low under the bushes, watching for prey. You're hungry- hungry enough to eat a cockroach. But that can wait for a little. 

Heavy footsteps thump down on the dirt.

"Yeah, Jaha," a male voice calls out. "I'll find something." 

You wait until you could see his feet, and then you leap from your hiding spot, bowstring pulled taut.

"Hey- hey." the boy puts his hands up, showing you he is weaponless. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want some food."

You can feel your arms start to tremble. You don't want to kill him. You don't need to. Slowly, you face the arrow towards the ground and give the string some slack. 

And he pulls a gun.

A gun. 

Your heart throbs in your chest. "I- I put the bow down, I didn't- I didn't do anything, please." You welcome the tears on your cheeks. Anything to make him decide not to put a bullet in your brain. 

"I didn't do anything, that didn't stop you," he smirks. You narrow your eyes. Survival is a game that's dangerous to lose. "I'm just heading towards the likely nonexistent City of Light."