wanna be cool (wanna be loved)

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698158

Author: eungdabhara (infires_man)

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Kim Namjoon/Kim Seokjin

Status: Completed

Chapters: 1/1 (2361 words)

Tags: Canonverse


It started with casual camaraderie. Coincidence. Chance, whatever you call it. Jin always seemed to be right beside Namjoon when it was time for group photoshoots, concept photos, selfies and the like, and Kim Namjoon was just starting to get very comfortable with the fact that he got to take a photo with his favourite hyung almost all of the time.

Until suddenly, his dongsaengs started jostling for the esteemed opportunity to take photos with Jin, who was supposed to be hisphoto partner, and Namjoon felt more salty than he ever thought he would - and, maybe it wasn’t just something as simple as casual camaraderie anymore.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6698158

Specks of Dust

Old Mr. Sigurdsson was used to seeing all kinds of folks in his antique shop, Military policemen and Garrison soldiers being no exception. Yet one evening a young Survey Corps soldier quietly walked into his shop, losing herself and her sense of time.

“Are you looking for something specific?” he tried again, studying the boyish stature and the blonde hair.

Such a pity ‘twas that short.

For a moment she ceased all movement, starred in front of her without truly seeing anything, then let the tense shoulders fall.

“Not exactly. I am looking for something…” in loss of the right words her gaze wandered somewhere over his bald head, “something… that speaks to me.”

A soldier and a day dreamer all at once? Well, that’s a rare type, he figured.

Loneliness and longing, the loss that happened and the one that’s anticipated.
In it all humans are merely specks of dust.

(Read here)

Originally posted by foreverlostinliterature

“You get called pretty a lot.” 

Dean laughs as he says it, and passes Castiel a beer bottle. 

“Yes,” Castiel says, not reaching for the drink and eyes Dean as he sits beside him. “I’ve noticed.” 

“You should figure out how to take the compliment without getting all tongue-tied,” Dean says, and takes a swig of beer. “Sure, it’s endearing, but at what cost?

Castiel glances down at his hands. 

“It’s an arbitrary compliment. I don’t know what to say in response.”

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes. He, himself, has been called pretty enough to last anyone several lifetimes and definitely understands that it can be embarrassing at first, but Castiel has been around for almost ten years and has Metatron’s entire library of pop-culture floating around in his brain - he should know how to gracefully accept a compliment by now. 

“Just say ‘thanks’ and maybe throw in a wink.” Dean says and sets the drink down. “You know, something comprehensible.”

“But why?” Castiel says and glances back up at Dean. “They’re just remarking on my physical appearance.”

“Yeah, you’re a handsome guy.” Dean lets his eyes flick over his features, and he knows it’s one of the more truthful things he’s said recently.

But this -” Castiel gestures at himself, “- this has nothing to do with me. All they’re doing is complimenting the aesthetics of Jimmy Novak, and while that’s a gesture I’m sure he’d appreciate, it doesn’t feel right accepting words that aren’t meant for me.” 

Dean frowns. 

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Jimmy’s face isn’t who Castiel is. The dark hair and sharp features, dark lines under the eyes - all Jimmy. 

But the eyes - the eyes have never once fooled Dean into thinking that the being behind them is anything but cosmic. 

“Alright, sure. Jimmy’s a good-looking dude.” Dean says once he’s brought his thoughts back around, “But he’s not you. I’d take you over him any day.”

Dean tilts his head upwards and points his beer towards the ceiling. 

“No offense, Jimmy.”

When Dean looks back, Castiel is smiling at him softly. 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

“No problem.” Dean shrugs. “I mean, I have no fucking clue what you actually look like, but I’m sure you’re the prettiest damn eldritch being out there.” 

Castiel chuckles and finally reaches for his beer. 

“I suppose that would depend. How attractive do you find three-hundred eyes and four heads?”

Dean nearly chokes on his next swig.

Sometimes, it’s hard for Sam to remember that Dean and Cas are… a thing. Like, a romantic thing. Because nothing really changes between them after it happens: sure, there are kisses every now and then—but they’re nothing obnoxious or ostentatious. More like.. more like the kind of thing two people do once they’re supremely comfortable with one another; like the contact is for comfort rather than some romantic need.

They hold hands, too. Cuddle. But with the way Dean and Cas have always kind of been attached at the hip, it’s hard to tell the difference between cuddling and watching Doctor Sexy, and just sitting really close and watching Doctor Sexy.

Sometimes, though, Sam stumbles into moments like these, and the reality of Dean and Cas as a romantic couple is blatant. 

An hour after dinner, they’re still doing dishes. Or, there were: now, Dean’s arms wrap around Castiel’s waist, theirs bodies flush and foreheads pressed together as they sway to the sounds of the tinny radio on the counter. Sometimes Cas steps on Dean’s feet, and sometimes Dean nuzzles their noses like some over-sized cat, but they clearly only have eyes for each other. Not that that is necessarily a change from their usual but… the context here is different.

They kiss sporadically, and Sam thinks he should probably feel weird about witnessing this—this private moment, between his brother and his best friend—but he’s honestly just. Overjoyed. Content. So happy for them.

Of course, Dean then deliberately moves his palm down to give Cas’s ass a firm squeeze, and Castiel grins playfully and nips at the bolt of Dean’s jaw and Sam has seen quite enough thanks so he decides to forgo the glass of juice he was after and just stick to water from the bathroom sink instead. It’s probably better for him at this hour anyway. 

On the way to his room, Sam hears whispering and murmuring and then Cas laughs—a nice, deep, fully-belly laugh.

Yeah, most of the time, it’s hard to remember that Dean and Cas are in a romantic relationship. But others… well, it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

A friend of mine is new to The 100 and asked me to recommend some fics that I’ve enjoyed. As per usual for me, I ended up with a much longer list than expected and I decided to share here. This is nowhere near all of the fics that I’ve fallen in love with, but I would definitely recommend checking out some of these awesome stories. I didn’t tag authors in this solely because I’m lazy and didn’t have time to look everyone up, but all credit goes completely to them and they are amazing.

Drabble Collections








AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327020

Author: Kpooping

Rating: General Audiences

Relationships: Kim Namjoon/Kim Seokjin

Status: Completed

Chapters: 1/1 (3600 words)

Tags: Canonverse


Namjoon writes songs about Jin. One day Jin finds them, and they kiss.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327020


BACK WITH ANOTHER ONE-SHOT!!! I told you guys I’d have some canonverse klangst, so here it is! Longer than my usual one-shots, and while I don’t want to give a vague summary… there’s a bomb involved. So. Yeah, that’s a thing.

This one is actually inspired by this absolutely gorgeous, angsty art/mini-comic by @littlecofiegirl who is an amazing artist that you should definitely check out!!

I saw this comic on my dash and I loved it so much that I was immediately inclined to write for it? Anyway, here it is! I hope you enjoy!

The plan had been going flawlessly.

Key word being had.

Shiro and Lance were both searching opposite sides of the base for their captured teammate, and Pidge and Hunk were too occupied giving Shiro directions through the maze-like corridors that they neglected to warn Lance of the approaching Galra heat signature.

A cat blocked his path in the hall, staring at him with large, yellow eyes. It didn’t move to attack, but it also didn’t run away.

“Um… guys?” Lance tried over the coms, lowering his gun just a bit. He wasn’t about to shoot a cat, but he still wanted to be on guard.

He didn’t hear the Galra behind him until her hand was on his shoulder.

That was mistake number one.

Keep reading

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.”

Keep reading

I’ve Got You

IT’S WHUMP WEEK! Hope you’re all as excited for this as I am. I’m going to try and throw some (k)lance whump at you every day!

Day One- Fever

Lance glared up at the ceiling with narrowed eyes, as if its very presence offended him. “Why do we even make plans?” he wondered aloud. “They always go south, anyways.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “If we just stormed into Galra bases with no idea what we were doing, then we’d be caught pretty easily.”

Lance eyed him, unimpressed. His skin looked unusually pale in the dim, purple light. “Kinda like how we are now?”

Keep reading

It’s Not Just You And Me Against the World Anymore

Bellarke post 5x06

I had been hesitating to the post this for the longest time, but then that sneak peak came out for 5x07 and I was like shit, I gotta just post it or I never will.

Clarke is tired.

It’s hardly been a week, but she’s just so fucking tired.

Somehow, surviving on a barren, post-apocalyptic Earth with just a child and a broken radio for company was easier than this.

The worst thing about it is that Clarke and Madi were so close to getting away from it all. So close to escaping someplace safe. Well, maybe not safe, per say — at least not for Clarke — but relatively so considering the sheer terror Clarke feels for Madi in Octavia’s presence.

The girl had been on a downward spiral since Lincoln’s death, that’s true, but these last six years buried any semblance of humanity in her for good. Clarke doesn’t know what Octavia wants with Madi, but there’s nothing she can offer her but a life of blood and fighting and death. A life Clarke never wanted for Madi. And she knew this. Knew that they had to get away, but then Madi, in an effort to protect Clarke, went and revealed her true identity to Octavia, effectively ruling out running as a possibility.

Now, as Clarke walks back to her tent with Madi at her side and Bellamy trailing behind, she finds she really has no idea what the hell she’s going to do. Octavia is expecting Madi in the morning to start her training, and she’s not sure there’s any way out of it. Madi will have to fight. There’s nothing she can do about it. Somehow, Gaia seems to be their best shot at an ally, and the thought doesn’t sit well with Clarke. The helplessness clings to her insides like something heavy is weighing her down. It’s all just too much.

She’s so fucking done with this bullshit. All she wants to do is live a life of peace with Madi, somewhere away from the rest of humanity, who after all this time, are so intent on murdering each other in a pointless war. She won’t hesitate to do it, especially where Madi’s concerned, but she’s so done with all the killing, all the fighting.

Maybe it was foolish of her to have had hope that things could be different this time, but she had — especially when her best friend came back into her life — and having that hope taken from her felt like air being sucked from her lungs.

When they reach the tent, Clarke places her hands on Madi’s shoulders. “I know tonight has been scary, but do you think you can get some rest for a bit?” Madi’s eyes are watery, but she nods. Clarke holds back her own tears and rubs the blood from Madi’s cheeks. Nobody should have to live in such fear, let alone a child—her child. “I’ll meet you in there in just a moment, okay?” Madi nods again and then she disappears into the tent. Clarke turns to face Bellamy. “You didn’t have to walk us back.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I wanted to make sure you both got back alright. Besides, my tent’s right across from yours.”

“Well,” Clarke says. “We’re back now, so you can…” she gestures for him to leave. Bellamy swallows and makes no move to do so. Clarke exhales. “What?”

Bellamy averts his eyes. “You almost left again.”

“I—“ Clarke blinks. “What?”

“You were just going to leave again, and you didn’t even think to discuss it with me.”

Clarke crosses her arms over her chest, glaring. “You didn’t think to discuss the defector plan with me either.”

“That’s different.”

“Like hell it is,” Clarke scoffs.

“That was about Echo leaving, Clarke,” he licks his lips in that way he does when he’s frustrated, “not me.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“So, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Echo was. You—” Bellamy breaks away for a moment, voice weak now. “You were.”

Keep reading

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!

Player Two

Sorry that it’s been so long since my last one-shot, but I’ve been finding more time to write lately, and believe me when I say that I have a list of ideas about ten miles long. So. I hope you’re still sticking around, and I hope you enjoy this. I’m really happy to be posting something again!

I got an requesting some langst because he can’t beat the video game and… this was the result. And yes, it’s got Keith in it too, because hi welcome to my blog.

A knock sounded at Keith’s door, and he didn’t even turn to look as he said an absentminded, “Yeah?”

But the sound of crying as the door swished open made him immediately stop what he was doing, head snapping up to see Lance standing in the doorway, tears running down his face.

Keith was on his feet in seconds, walking hurriedly to other’s side. “Lance? What happened? Are you hurt?!”

Lance shook his head, burying his face in his hands. Keith just grew more wary. If whatever was going on had rendered even Lance speechless…

He let out another half-smothered sob, and Keith couldn’t help but feel a rush of anger at whoever had caused this. He hated seeing Lance cry.

“Hey,” Keith said softly, trying to remain calm. For all he knew, it was nothing. “Hey, it’s… it’s okay, just tell me what happened, alright? Why are you crying?”

Lance, without warning, rushed forward and buried his head in Keith’s shoulder. He started, but brought his arms up and wrapped them around Lance, feeling the start of a blush spreading across his face.

“It’s Pidge,” Lance said, and his voice sounded broken.

Keith’s blood ran cold.

His mind ran through all the possibilities of what that could mean. He had been seeing the green paladin less and less lately… was she…?

“She’s… she’s beaten Killbot Phantasm One.”

Keep reading

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.

It had taken more than a year, but Eren had finally gained the trust and confidence of his superiors, so that he was allowed to go off on his own during their monthly trip to the market.

When he’d first joined the Survey Corps, there had always been someone keeping an eye on him, walking just a few steps behind to make sure he didn’t do something stupid like suddenly turn into a titan, or get kidnapped yet again. Now, they simply waved him off and told him to meet them at a designated location when it was time to return to headquarters.

Which was good, because he needed his next purchase to remain a secret.

While most of his comrades spent their paychecks on food and drink during these trips, Eren had been saving up his meager wages for something special. It was almost Christmas and there was a very important person he needed to buy a gift for. He’d spotted it a few months ago; a fancy teacup and saucer sitting in the window of a shop, made of blue and white china with gold filigree around the rim and along the handle.

Everyone else in the Corps used the standard issue tin mugs, but Captain Levi always drank out of a plain white teacup. If anyone deserved finer things in life, Eren believed it was Levi, and this new cup would be a much nicer replacement. He had known it would be expensive, and was only slightly put off as he handed over three month’s wages to the store owner in exchange for the item. The cup and saucer were wrapped in thick, brown protective paper, and Eren carefully placed them into his bag before practically skipping out of the shop, feeling pleased with himself.

He passed a few food stalls on his way to the tavern where his friends were waiting and his mouth watered at the sweet and savoury smells wafting by his nose. If only he’d had just a few coins left, he thought, eyeing the apple fritters one woman was selling. He pressed on, reminding himself that his Captain’s happiness was worth more than a lousy doughnut.

One item for sale did make him pause, however; a book, unremarkable, laid out on a table among plenty of others, but to Eren it was so familiar that it made his heart ache. He tentatively laid his fingers against the cover, reading the title for the first time in years. A fond smile came to his face as he recalled his mother reading it to him every night. It was a story about an adventurer discovering new lands. Of course, it had been his favourite.

He flipped it open to the first page and managed to skim over a few lines before the man behind the stall snapped, “You gotta buy it if you wanna read it!”

The smile dropped from Eren’s face and he reluctantly closed the book. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the road and continued walking, oblivious to a pair of grey eyes that had been watching.

Keep reading

The wonderful @sulkingmoon drew me this brilliant piece of Levi in my “Sparrow”verse. I still can’t believe how quick she pulled through with it, nor can I fully believe how beautiful this piece has become. Thank you so very much, Kuro! He is so, so wonderful! 

Of all the places Eren has come to visit over the years, this café is one of his favourites.

He sits in front of a small, wooden table, the window front to his left, the simple, plain letters painted on it not really obscuring his view to the busy street outside.

ɘɿoM & ɒɘT

Of course, tea is not the only thing this business runs on. Or what draws in the most customers. It’s the coffee. The varieties of cake offered alongside the beverages only add to the popularity.

The café isn’t spacious. Just big enough to provide a tranquil and almost homelike atmosphere. Seven small tables with two to three chairs each. A brass counter with four wooden bar stools. Two snug nooks with a pair of cosy, dark red corduroy seats each, and a small coffee table between them. A staff department in the back, including a tiny kitchen, and an additional storage compartment. A tiny bathroom. A door with a subsequent staircase leading up to a flat. Levi’s flat.

– Sparrow, Chapter 1