anonymous asked:

Hey!! I read parts of a fanfic on twitter where Bellamy and Evho get to earth and they meet Madi, and Madi recognizes Bellamy and she tells him about Clarke and he asks her to show him where she is and they get to this house type thing where he sees drawings all over the walls, most importantly drawings of him Clarke drew. She drew other people like Raven and Abby too but it was his that 'dominated' the wall. If you could help me find this fanfic I'd really appreciate it!


anonymous asked:

Okay, so I have your page in my bookmarks bar I'm here that frequently. Anyways I was wodering if you know of any canonverse fics where they adopt or find a kid and take them in (I like sappy shit) I just live for Parent!Ereri.

Most of them are already in the [parenthood] tag, but here’s another.

Good Enough
Summary: "You don’t have to be the best parent. You just have to be good enough.“


Six Years and Seven Days

This is pretending that Bellamy could hear Clarke talking all those years, she just can’t hear him responding, and that the ship at the end is them coming back to Earth. 


Day Three

“Bellamy…are you up there? Are you alive? Is anyone alive?”


“I only woke up yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday. I barely made it into the bunker in time, but I made it. And the computer says it’s been three days since the radiation hit, and I was so hungry I thought I might die. Please tell me you didn’t die.”


“Bellamy, my mom was right. In a way. My face is disgusting, covered in boils. You’d be laughing at me…probably. Because she was right but so were you. I’m not dead Bellamy. I hope you aren’t either.”

His fingers slammed on the respond button, pushing it down to the point of it feeling like it would crack from the pressure.

“I’m not dead, Clarke. I’m not dead.”

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Elderly Yuuri

This is placed when Yuuri is past 80y/o and Victor already passed away naturally.

Yuuri would mourn Victor’s passing until he himself was gone but instead of falling into depression he would rememeber fondly every moment they spent together.

Some days he would open a drawer and look smiling but teary eyed at their wedding photo album or at the now yellowish old posters he had in his childhood bedroom, the paper so thin it could tear with a whisper. Other times he would listen to Stammi Vicino and hum along the music while looking at his ring.

He would sometimes forget the date, what he had for lunch, his birthday or maybe he would mix up the Nishigori triplet names (now full grown adults), but he would tell them and anyone who would visit him time and time again about the night Victor appeared in the onsen, about their ring exchange in Barcelona, about Yurio’s senior debut, about their retirement, etc. The triplets would share a look between each other like here we go again, but they would listen to every story, after all the years they became family.

Yuuri would feel himself getting old, but instead of being afraid, he would be at peace and absolutely proud of the live he shared with his family and Victor until the very end.

Dean being hit by a love spell, and seeing Cas first - and falling for him, magically.

And Sam’s ready to hold his brother back from any embarrassing behaviour, anything he’ll regret later - but Dean handles it like a pro. He keeps his hands to himself - barely pats Cas on the shoulder to say goodnight, barely says a word out of place, as they sit in the bunker and try to figure out how to break the spell. There’s a feeling, sometimes, when Dean looks at Cas… a feeling of something deep moving beneath the surface, of a powerful emotion - but Dean keeps it perfectly in check.

“How are you doing that?” Sam says. “Is it a weak spell?”

Dean, jaw clenched - fire in his blood, burning alive - shakes his head slowly. “It’s strong,” he says. I’ve got practice, he almost adds.

Cas comes to see him that night, late. Dean’s awake, of course, researching in his room, laptop glowing brightly. He jerks his head up sharply when Cas knocks at the door, always alert.

“Cas,” Dean says. “Come in.”

“You’re sure? With the spell, it won’t be too…” Cas pauses, awkward. Dean shakes his head.

“It’s alright,” he says - and then makes the first and only mistake that the spell pushes out of him. “I’m used to it,” he adds.

They both pause. Dean stares at Cas in a kind of paralysed silence - unable to believe that now, now, after all these years of quietness, he has twisted a little of his feelings into words.

“I would ask you how it feels,” Cas says, eventually. He’s standing half-inside the door, tense. “But I believe I know already.”

There’s a moment of utter noiselessness - but to Dean, to Cas, it’s the loudest few seconds of their lives. Understanding crashes into them both; without words, louder than words, with eyes alone, they tell each other everything.

It turns out, the only thing needed to break the spell is a single kiss.

They make sure the spell is completely broken, though, by not leaving it at one.

anonymous asked:

What's the dirtiest bellarke smut you have? 😬😳

you can also try our tags page for other smut tags (power play, dirty talk, threesome, etc.)

anon said: Any new smut specifically with dirty talk?

(italics = canonverse; the rest are modernverse)

+ smut tag!

Dean can’t move. His chest is heavy and his arms are heavy and everything aches. This can’t actually be happening. They must’ve been hunting a dijin case. A backwards dijin brought his worst nightmare to life.

He’s never seen his wings. Every time he’s lost Cas, his wings have never appeared. But Lucifer killing him, the imprint of what once was.. it seems too fucking permanent.

If Sam would’ve just fucking let him grab Cas for one second. If Sam would’ve let him go..


Playing that scene back in his head, he’s reminded of a long time ago when Dean had to drag Sam away from Jess. Jesus, Sam was pissed for a while. Dean understood that. It was the love of his life he had to drag him away from.

Jess was the love of Sam’s life.


Dean runs his hands through his hair and over his face before realizing he’s crying. He doesn’t feel it, really. Everything’s sort of numb.

He pinches himself. He has to get out of this godforsaken dream.

Except, he knows. He knows it’s not a dream. He knows this is reality, knows that it isn’t just his terrible recurring nightmare that almost makes him admit to Cas.. But then, he’d have to admit it to himself, too, and admitting it would mean admitting he deserves something good. He doesn’t.

He takes in a shaky breath, and shuts his eyes so he can remember everything about Cas, about the way he was. Dean tries to remember the way he felt when he’d grip his shoulder, trying to at the same time reveal and hide how he felt for the angel. He tries to remember his hair, and the moments when Cas would make him wanna grab him by the arm and kiss until he’s out of fucks to give about what he deserves.

When Dean thinks about Cas’ smile, he chokes on nothing except his own sorrow. He gives in, laying himself over Cas’ body as sobs tear through his chest. He cries tears into Cas’ skin, and a part of him hopes, the small part of him that desperately wishes he’d had a childhood, that his tears will fix Cas. He knows they won’t; he doesn’t live a fairytale life. If he did, he wouldn’t be crying over losing his best friend.

God, who the fuck is he even kidding anymore? He wouldn’t be crying over losing the love of his fucking life.

When that thought came to mind, when Dean silently accepted it, he sobbed harder, and hiccups started to come up instead of choked down tears. His hand is suddenly moving, gripping Cas’ shirt in a ball. Dean mumbles, and no one hears it except him, but he still cries harder as he imprints, “I-I.. I love you,” into Cas’ skin for the first and final time. He’s shaking, he feels it, but he doesn’t care. He’s gripping Cas so tight, and it’s all he can do not to lay completely across him and beg someone, anyone to come fix it.

A hand rests on his shoulder. “Dean. We gotta go.” His words are there, but they aren’t being processed. “Jack’s vanished, I only saw him for a second.”

Sam doesn’t know what to do. He’s never seen him cry this way before. He knows he can’t mourn the death of his family right now, because he knows stability is going to be the only thing to keep Dean in this state of emotional flooding. It sounds bad, yes, but Sam knew that when this day came, he was going to deal with a lovesick, broken-hearted man (whether Cas died first or not).

Sam decides pretending it isn’t happening is the best route to continuation of the emotional flood.

Dean doesn’t even stop crying when they get to the car. He silently agrees to let Sam drive once he hears the suggestion from his brother, tossing the keys his way. He lays down in the back of the impala, and he shuts his eyes to try and sleep. He knows Sam is grabbing Cas, knows he’s probably gonna try to put him in the trunk or something. Maybe while Dean sleeps, he can pretend Cas is, too.

I have this headcanon that Yuuri is very talented at making wagashi (traditional Japanese sweets) and is particularly good at making Namagashi, which are traditional sweets served during a traditional tea ceremony.So, while Viktor was out training and Yuuri had the day off, Yuuri made Namagashi and served it with matcha as a treat for Viktor for his hard work. Viktor almost found it too hard to eat such beautifully crafted masterpieces and only managed to eat when he realized that Yuuri might think that he didn’t want to. Not only were they beautiful but they tasted great too. 


Dean had slowly come to realize that he didn’t want to die young and bloody; he wanted to live as long as possible. He didn’t want a new woman every night, he wanted a lifelong companion. And the biggest realization: he knew who he wanted that companion to be.

Dean and Castiel progress through a series of firsts. (1.2k)

A/N: This should’ve been posted ages ago, whoops. To clarify, I wrote this before season 11 ended, so it diverges sometime near the end of the season.


Dean wasn’t really sure when the idea was planted. Maybe it was when he realized he wanted something more from life than monsters and one-night stands, maybe when Sam brought up the idea of settling down with another hunter. Maybe it was even earlier than that. After Purgatory, or finding Cas without a memory and realizing he’d forgiven the angel despite all the things he’d done.

In any case, Dean had slowly come to realize that he didn’t want to die young and bloody; he wanted to live as long as possible. He didn’t want a new woman every night, he wanted a lifelong companion. And the biggest realization: he knew who he wanted that companion to be. Some deeply-buried part of him had known for a long time – years, really – but it took Castiel being possessed by Lucifer to realize how much the angel meant to him, and in a different way than Sam did or Bobby had. And to find out why Cas had said yes… well, Dean could add that to the ever-growing list of things he’d done that made him feel like shit.

With Cas back in the bunker and recuperating, though, Dean was determined to change things. If Cesar and Jesse had shown him anything, it was that it was possible to settle down and be happy with a hunter, and Dean was finally ready to try.

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anonymous asked:

Any fanfic based in the time jump (5 years) speculation? Thanks!

@katiefireheart said: Hi do you have any Bellarke reunion fics set at the end of season four, where Bellamy thinks Clarke is dead but when he gets back shes not, or something like that. Thanks xxx

anon said: Any and all fics please of the new sky people coming back to earth/ THAT bellarke reunion

you and i, forever

Bellamy gets injured trying to save Octavia’s life, and Clarke loses her mind.

They were always supposed to be together. At the end of the day—at the end of the world—it was supposed to be them standing side by side.


Clarke burst through the doors of the tower and counted the rooms she passed, running, until she reached the one Abby told her she would find Bellamy. She didn’t have all the details of what had happened, just that Bellamy ended up with a sword through his abdomen. Abby had radioed her right away.

Scared as she was for what she would see, she quickly opened the door and took in the sight in front of her.

There he was, lying unconscious on a table, his shirt torn open to access the wound, sweat beading on his forehead. Bloody gauze was everywhere. He looked so close to death, his skin paler than she’d ever seen it (including that time Murphy had infected the whole camp with that virus), but there he was. Alive. Barely.

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Cas sitting and reading a book in the bunker’s library - not for business, but for pleasure. He’s lost in the story.

Dean coming in and walking up behind Cas quietly, meaning to surprise him. Cas doesn’t notice, his focus on the story too complete for anything to bother him.

Dean reaching out his hands, meaning to pinch Cas’ shoulders suddenly, and make a loud noise at the same time - just to give him a bit of a shock, see what happens when an angel jumps.

Dean’s hands softening at the last moment - and before he knows what’s happening, the pinch becomes a gentle squeeze. It’s careful and caring, both. He’s the one who’s shocked - at himself, at this impulse to be affectionate. And Cas is turning around to look at him with wide, happy eyes.

“Good book?” Dean says, to cover the moment. His hands haven’t moved. Cas reaches up, and presses his palm to the back of one of them.

“Very good,” he says. “You should read it some time.”

Dean awkwardly patting Cas’ shoulder and heading off on his way.

His hands tingle for the rest of the day.

University/college headcanon

Yuuri studied dance at college. It worked really well alongside his skating training, he challenged his body in different ways and learned about artistic expression in, effectively, multiple languages. He was pretty eclectic in his choice of classes - he definitely did ballet, street, latin and pole, and might have tried to fit in a couple of others if he had time, or just had a try with Phichit for fun. If he’s drunk or happy enough, Phichit can persuade him into a duet.

At the time of the first series, Victor has never been to college or university. By the time he was the right age his career was skyrocketing and he needed to focus on that alone, though he always took a couple of books everywhere he went, just for inspiration and trying to stay sharp. He’s always wondered what he missed out on, and when he fully retires from skating it seems like a good new path to go down. He decides to do a distance learning course in Modern Foreign Languages, as he likes foreign languages, and can apply his love of constantly hunting for symbols, themes and new ways of expressing feeling to the novels and poems he reads.

he made his peace with letting go

Rating: G
Fandom: The 100
Pairing: Bellamy x Clarke
Chapter: 1/1
Word Count: 1999 Words
Summary: Movement at the treeline caught everyone’s eye at almost the same time. A silhouette burst out of the trees and stopped short. The person stopped and touched their hair. Their short, blonde hair. It was impossible. “Bellamy….” Raven latched onto his arm and pointed. “Bellamy. Oh my god.”

Also on AO3

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The Sound Of Silence

Bellamy + Clarke⎜Canonverse⎜OS⎜Angst⎜Hurt/Comfort

Post 4x04 from Bellamy’s POV because the Bellamy Blake Bottom Lip Tremble™ won’t leave me alone

When the heart breaks it doesn’t make a sound. There is no rip of flesh, no jarring moan, no heavy thud. There is just silence. Emptiness. Like the universe itself couldn’t come up with a sound to encompass such profound devastation. 

The screams that tore his throat to shreds die down but his heart keeps breaking in silence. With every heartbeat the tear in his heart grows, one side weighed down with grief. His sister. The other weighed down with guilt. His responsibility. Every breath he takes is a protest against his ribcage, wrestling for space against the pain.   

The chains tug at his wrists, carving deep grooves into his skin, but he doesn’t feel it. He is pulled over rocks and fallen trees, and sometimes he falls, but he doesn’t feel stone breaking his skin, doesn’t flinch against the crack of bone. Angry commands are growled in trigedasleng, but he doesn’t turn towards it or away from it. He feels heavy eyes on him, but he doesn’t look up at them. He keeps going, not hearing, not seeing, not feeling, just breaking. 

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It’s Dean’s fault.

He needs to be more alert. He needs to be 100% there in every fight, every time, no matter what happens with a certain angel moments before. He needs to pay attention more.

But then the vamp grabs the upper hand, and Dean can fight back with nothing except his fists. A blade is kicked to his right side, too many feet away to try and reach out as the vampire clenches his hands around Dean’s throat.

A small, evil smirk graces his face. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” He lets up on Dean’s throat only slightly, only so Dean can barely breathe. “Dean Winchester, the righteous man, who would die for his brother and his now-dead angel.. friend,” he throws a wink to Dean, who feels disgusted, “is going to be killed by the head of a vamp’s nest. You’re gonna die at the hands of someone who’s supposed to be a regular job.”

Dean’s eyes start to close as he can feel his body slowly relaxing, can feel his heart rate slowing, slowing, slowing, as the vamp continues on, “He saves you every time, doesn’t he?” He leans down to Dean’s ear, hisses softly, “Where is your savior now?” Dean’s becoming unaware of his surroundings and thoughts and all he can think of is one specific name pushing itself through everything.

Suddenly, a weight is being lifted off of him, with a, “right here” sounding somewhere in the room. Dean can’t bring himself to try and sit up or open his eyes again; his body has no fuel or motivation to do anything but pass out, so that’s what Dean does.

As Dean comes to, he’s back at the bunker, his bedroom, with a bag of ice wrapped in a washcloth trapped against his forehead by a band. The throbbing in his head is aided by the ice, so it isn’t as terrible as one would expect. Closer to your third hangover ever rather than getting choked out by a vampire (a fucking vampire) with marks from the others all over you.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t freak out, squint, or even look in Cas’ general direction. He’s known him for how long; he can sense his presence as soon as he’s in the room. Dean just keeps his eyes up, not being able to handle the intense gaze to likely follow a glance at Cas. “Hey, Cas.”

“How are you feeling?” Dean’s heart aches slightly at how much Cas cares, because he just knows Cas isn’t just asking to ask.

“Well, about as great as a hunter can feel when he just took an ass-whooping from a fuckin vamp.” He tries to say it lightly, but his throat closes around certain words and it just sounds like he’s gonna start crying. Great.

A long silence follows Dean’s statement, and he can feel Cas’ eyes staring into him. Why does the only person who’s ever seen (can still see?) his soul never take his eyes off of him?

Cas takes a deep breath in before starting, “I would like to make clear that my confession does not have to mean anything.” There’s a pause, before his voice says quiet yet clear, “I understand you feel you cannot see me in that way, and that’s okay.”

A mumble comes from Dean.

“Sorry? I think you might need to speak more clearly, Dean.” He can almost hear the head tilt in the way Cas says that, and Cas really needs to stop overusing Dean’s name because he really likes how it sounds coming off of Cas’ tongue and oh god now Dean is thinking about Cas’ tongue Jesus fucking Christ-


Cas says that so commandingly Dean can’t help but look over at him, and he notices Cas is sitting on the chair in Dean’s room. The one that Dean didn’t exactly used to have, but started putting in there totally not for the one preoccupying the seat. It’s just.. Nice decoration.

His eyes are locked onto Cas’ as he says, “I could.. uh.. I could, y'know, see you.. Y'know, in that way.” He clears his throats before continuing, “In fact, uh, I uh, do.. See you.. That way.” God, Dean sounds like such a wimp. How did Cas admit it with so much self-assurance? He just.. How did he just tell Dean?

Cas sighs, and it sounds.. sad. “Dean, please. I know that this makes you uncomfortable. You do not need to lie to me to spare my feelings.” Cas has now broken their eye contact, and he’s moving across the room to Dean’s door. Oh god, he’s leaving? Cas thinks Dean doesn’t want him? Jesus, fuck, what does he do what can he do fuck fuck fuck-

“Kiss me!” Dean leans up so that he’s sitting upright now and shouts, and it’s so much more desperate than he’ll ever admit, but he.. He couldn’t have Cas leaving, especially under these circumstances. Dean.. He wouldn’t be too happy with himself.

Cas looks to him with the curiosity and intensity that first intrigued Dean when they met at that barn. Dean breathes heavily before speaking. “Please. If, you, uh, you want to.”

Without breaking eye contact, Cas moves toward Dean, and suddenly all Dean is breathing in is Cas Cas Cas and he can’t get enough. Their lips touch, and Dean crumbles. It’s slow, it’s tender, it’s every cliché in the book, but Dean doesn’t care. It’s with Cas. His Cas.

They pull back, and Dean thinks that Cas’ eyes have never looked bluer as they lay down together. Eventually, Dean’s head is on Cas’ chest, eyes closed as he’s just listening to him breathing. Cautiously, slowly, Dean searches blindly for the hand that’s not running through his hair and intertwines their fingers.

“Cas, are we gonna be okay?” It’s quiet, after a while of being in each other’s space. Cas responds with a kiss to the top of Dean’s head and a squeeze of his hand, and Dean decides as he drifts off that yeah, they will be.