There. In the centre of the ring there’s a flash of blue.
Viktor pushes past two spectators just in time to see him, a crown of blue roses in his hair and Viktor’s striped shirt barely hanging onto his shoulders as he dances to the tune.
He saw this boy twice a week for a month on Skype, but he’s still blown away by how beautiful Yuuri looks tonight. He’s lost between the softness at Yuuri’s hips and the crispness of his shoulders, the smoothness of his skin and the messiness of his hair. The way the selkie translates the music into the movements of his body makes Viktor’s heart swell and his breath come short.
Finally, he can bear it no more. “Yuuri!” he shouts as the song’s beat begins to mount again, and Yuuri’s eyes snap open. Viktor drinks in his warm gaze, his heart soaring as Yuuri’s mouth curves up in a smile.
And then Yuuri takes his hand, eliciting sparks down Viktor’s spine at the barest touch.
Yuuri pulls him closer, bouncing in time to the music, and Viktor joins him with laughter on his lips and a song in his heart.
Stay close to me, Yuuri had asked him in his book. And here he is, answering.
Even through the months of doubts and fear, a part of him had always known that. It just took some time for the rest of him to accept it — to accept that this is his second chance.
As tracker James Conrad, he spends much of the movie kneeling down to
examine broken underbrush, eluding King Kong, and rolling through the
dirt to escape giant, underground lizard monsters who want to rip him
limb from limb. In other words, a typical day at the office. But his
greatest asset is not his gun. It’s not even the Samurai sword he uses
to slice his way through a flock of razor-beaked birds. It’s his plain,
gloriously tight, gray-blue t-shirt. To put it simply, he looks good as
hell. Possibly better than he does in a suit, which is really saying something.
I don’t know how it magically stays perfectly tucked in, or what
exactly it is about it that has inspired this obsession, but as a reward
for you taking the time to read about this important, high-priority
matter, please enjoy the next photos of him and his t-shirt in
Without hesitation, Hanzo grabs Jesse by the front of his blue and white gingham shirt, and he crashes their lips together. He fists the shirt and presses himself against Jesse’s body, suddenly desperate for contact. His cowboy tastes of the spices Ana used in her jerky and sweat from a long day’s ride in the sun.
This commission art was done by @Kazimo. Please check out their artwork and consider commissioning them! Kazimo captured this moment so wonderfully, and we are so touched by the thought and care that went into this piece! Thank you very much!!
•so Ronan left the barns and hopped in his car late at night out of habit cause that’s what he does when he can’t sleep
•as he’s driving, he thinks of Adam and how much he misses him and he just kinda ends up on the freeway, headed towards Adam’s college
•so it’s like midnight and he’s in Adam’s college town and he’s like “fuck it, I’m visiting my boyfriend right now, I haven’t seen him in three months, and I’m done waiting”
•but he knows how Adam overworks himself and ends up dead tired 24/7 so he stops for coffee first
•he pulls into the parking lot of Adam’s dorm building and immediately finds his room (he will never admit it, but he has the room number memorized, what a nerd)
•so he knocks and waits and finally Adam opens the door super hella fast and he’s wearing the classic coca cola t-shirt and blue pajama pants and his hair is perfectly mussed and his eyes are electric, even in the dim light, and Ronan doesn’t say a single thing because he’s lost in those eyes
•And Adam has the absolute most annoyed expression on his face and says super sternly “Ronan Lynch, it is too fucking early for this, and I have class in a few hours, let me sleep.” (Cause at this point it’s like 1:30 or something, idk, and he’s sleep deprived and it doesn’t register) and he shuts the door
•Ronan is kinda shocked for a minute so he just kinda sets the coffee down next to the door mat when he hears, muffled, through the door “wAIT THAT’S RONAN LYNCH”
•and Adam flings the door open even more hella fast than the first time and the door hits the wall really loud and he full on jumps on Ronan and wraps his arms around his neck and his legs around his waist and just clings on tight for a few moments and then just pulls back to look at Ronan’s face and then tries to kiss him but can’t cause he’s smiling too much for kissing to actually work
•and the whole ordeal was really loud so kids start peeking their heads out from behind their doors
•and Adam and Ronan both notice this but they’re too busy kissing to actually give a fuck
•also, Ronan is still holding Adam so he’s off the ground and it’s kinda top heavy so Ronan spills the coffee at some point
•bonus: Adam’s room mate comes up from behind the pair to walk out of the room to tell a kid across the hall “this is the angry-gay-Irish-catholic-tattooed-street-racing-farmer-dad boyfriend of his I told you about” and the other kid is like “oh wow he actually exists”
Concept: Ronan and Blue sharing each other’s clothes. Ronan wears her shirts as crop tops and bc he’s a skinny fucker he can wear her skirts. Blue wears his shirts as dresses and borrows literally all his jewelry. They can be found wandering around Henrietta consistently making people question their sexuality
You better Marry her One Day (Draco Malfoy x Reader)
Prompt/Request: ‘’Hi!! I really liked my last imagine that you wrote for me. Do you think you could write another Draco Malfoy imagine, where the reader meets his parents and she later overhears his mother telling Draco that he better marry the reader one day? Thanks!’’ -
Word Count: 1,181. Warning(s): Fluff, I guess? Note: Thank you for the amazing request, I liked it to write. :) Hope you like it too! xx
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The nerves were killing you as you stood in front of
the Malfoy Manor, a very big manor, almost like a castle with its own, little
kingdom. Even though everything looked very clean and neat, it still had a very
dark look. Yes, even when you were sorted in Slytherin and a pureblood, you
still disliked dark colours. But following Draco his advice, you wore some
black jeans, a dark blue shirt and a black leather jacket. To finish of your
outfit, you wore black shoes, hoping the family wouldn’t hate it.
God, everything mattered if you thought
about it. You were so concentrated on your appearance and manners you didn’t
even realize someone opened the door already you had not even knocked on.
‘Good day darling, I’m assuming you’re
Y/N?’ a woman with dark hair and dark clothes greeted you. In her hair were
some grey locks and immediately you liked it the way she slowly accepted
growing old. Well, that’s what you thought, maybe that was not the reason
behind the grey locks after all.
You nodded and shook her hand, which
reached out to you already. ‘Yes, Y/N Y/L/N. And you’re Draco’s mother?’
you questioned, not trying to sound rude at all as she led you in.
Inside it was dark too, as you expected,
but it was very beautiful and all the stuff looked very expensive. Even when
you’d touch the walls, you felt like it would break down right down to your
feet. This was a whole other universe than your own, ordinary home. You shook
your head and let your thoughts drift away.
‘Yes, yes I am. Narcissa Malfoy,’ she
smiled before letting your hand finally go. The door behind you was now closed
and you started to follow Narcissa to another door inside. Narcissa opened the
door, which seemed to be the door to the living room. On the couch was Draco,
laying down, reading a book for school while on the chair on the other side of
him, was another man. He looked a lot like Draco. The blonde hair, the same
face expression and his whole appearance made you conclude he was his father.
‘Draco, Y/N is here,’ Narcissa
announced, making Draco look up. He shot up immediately and walked towards you
with open arms.
‘Hey babe,’ he whispered when he was
close to you, pressing a small kiss on your lips, before letting go of you and
wrapping his arm around your waist. And there you stood, like Draco was
presenting you to his parents, despite your little meeting with his mother.
He took a short breathe, looking at his
father, who had not a single emotion on his face nor in his eyes.
‘Hi, I’m Y/N,’ you shortly introduced
yourself, waving a little before a small laugh left your mouth. Narcissa was
already smiling, but Draco’s father stayed silent.
‘Father?’ Draco said kind of unsure
about his words, also nervous because his father hasn’t said a single thing but
sending you glares. Well, you thought it were glares.
‘Lucius Malfoy,’ was the only thing he
said. The corners of his mouth went a bit upward and you questioned yourself if
this was supposed to represent a smile.
But to prevent any other awkward
situations, you just said: ‘Nice to meet you, sir.’ And you showed your
most beautiful smile, feeling Draco chuckle. His grip around your waist
stiffened a bit, so you smiled even more, but not towards Lucius anymore, but
Your eyes met, feeling the spark inside
lighten up again. He nodded, gesturing it was going okay. A wave of relief
washed over you, before Narcissa and Lucius started to walk to another room.
Draco hold on tightly when he walked with you, entering the big room which
seemed to be the dining room.
‘Dinner’s almost ready,’ Draco’s mother
said as she smiled, walking to the kitchen to check the food one last time.
‘Good,’ you answered, turning towards
Draco and his father, ‘mind if I use the bathroom real quick and wash my
hands?’ You showed a grin and frowned a bit. Draco nodded, ignoring his father
as he told you were to find it. A quick thank you rolled over your lips and
before you knew it, you were already inside.
‘Come on Y/N, you can do this,’ you
whispered to you reflection, trying to encourage yourself, ‘it’s all going
well right now. Kill it out there.’
You took a deep breathe, fixing your
hair and make-up again, washing your hands before exiting the bathroom. That’s
when you realized you got lost in the house. It was a bloody maze in your eyes.
Voices were heard, so you assumed it
were Draco and his parents and as you were approaching the voices behind the
door, you saw it was a direct door to the kitchen and not via the dining room.
The voices belonged to Narcissa and
‘What a beautiful girl Draco, reminds me
of the younger me,’ you heard Narcissa say, making you smile and your heartbeat
‘She’s the prettiest and sweetest woman
alive,’ Draco told his mother, love lacing in his words.
Narcissa laughed and laid her hands on
the shoulders of her son. ‘Your father will love her too, darling. She
makes you so happy, I’ve never seen you so happy.’
Draco just nodded, hearing things he
already knew. You were indeed one of his only lights that brought him happiness
and made him turn into a good person. Well, let’s just say you made him have a
good side too.
‘You better marry her one day,’ Narcissa
smiled while stroking the arms of her only son. Draco laughed and grabbed his
‘Don’t worry mother, I will,’ he assured
her, making her nod.
On the other side of the door, you were
almost fainting. A hand clasped in front of your mouth, you silently left the
door, finding the other way around immediately as the smile on your face
wouldn’t fade away.
When you were in the dining room again,
everyone was finally there, Draco sitting on a chair next to an empty chair.
The whole table was filled with so much food, you almost lost count of the
Once you sat down, Lucius lit the
candles with his wand and filled all the four glasses with some wine.
‘A toast for Draco and Y/N,’ Narcissa
said, raising her glass as you followed her actions. Draco did the same and
then everyone looked at Lucius, who still hadn’t raise his glass.
But after a few seconds, his mouth went
open, his eyes showing some sympathy as he looked at his loving son.
‘To the beautiful, kind Y/N and my only,
dear son Draco,’ he said, finally showing some of his opinion on your
You smiled, mumbling a ‘cheers’ but
you were at cloud nine at the moment, so happy with this meeting.
Soon enough, Draco’s hand found yours,
him squeezing your hand a little as you were smiling like a dork, happier than
On the day they met, Dean Winchester is four years old. Emblazoned on the front of his light blue teddy T-shirt are the words I Wuv Hugz, and everyone who’s ever met Dean can verify the accuracy of this statement.
Everyone who’s ever met his new neighbor, Castiel Novak, knows the opposite is true. It’s 1983, and though terms like Asperger’s Syndrome and touch aversion have yet to seep into public consciousness, Cas had been sure to convey his displeasure to anyone who’s ever tried to hug him without his explicit consent.
As such, both the boys’ parents watch with considerable apprehension as Dean toddles up to the newcomer, ready to bestow upon him the signature Winchester greeting.
He throws his pudgy arms around Castiel’s slight shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as his little body will allow.
Castiel’s haggard single mother, Naomi, squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the ear-splitting wail that is sure to follow. To her surprise, there is none.
Instead, when she dares to look again, Cas is, for the first time in his short life, expressing physical affection, his thin arms wrapped delicately around Dean’s shoulders.
In a voice so soft no one but Dean can hear it, Castiel murmurs, “Hello, Dean.”
It’s now 1988.
Dean Winchester is nine years old, down a parent, and up a…well, he’s hesitant to refer to Cas as like a brother, though adults in his life have described it as such. It just feels wrong to him, for reasons he has yet to put his finger on.
Regardless, Cas has become remarkably close, mostly because his mother – a single parent, struggling to make ends meet – is almost never home. As his closest neighbors and closest friends, Cas ends up spending more time at the Winchesters’ house than he does at his own.
Dean still wuvs hugz, though he’s now less willing to admit to such, and Cas, miracle of all miracles, still never fails to return them. Indeed, Dean is one of the few people Cas will willingly touch.
At present, the boys are cuddled up on Dean’s lower bunk while young Sammy snoozes above them, a rerun of the Three Stooges buzzing on Dean’s fuzzy, black-and-white TV set.
99% of the time, Cas doesn’t understand the humor, fails to see the amusement in watching three people brutalize one another. But he enjoys hearing Dean laugh, the feel of his warm breath against the back of his neck. It makes him feel comforted.
It makes him feel home.
Contentedly, Cas closes his eyes. He’s just drifting off when he hears Dean say, “Oh. Hi, Daddy.”
For some reason, he sounds nervous.
When Cas blinks open his eyes, he sees why: John is standing in the doorway, glowering at them, a strange sort of contempt darkening his glassy eyes. He’s yards away from them, leaning in the doorless entryway to the boys’ room, but Cas can smell the pungent stench of alcohol wafting off of him.
“You boys’re too old to be doin’ that,” is all he mutters, before staggering away and leaving the confused duo with the vague but pervasive sense that they’ve done something wrong.
Cas glances over at Dean, who’s now worrying his lower lip and won’t meet his eyes.
Cas pats his hand. “My mommy smells that way when she gets sad,” he offers.
For some reason, it seems to help.
It’s now 1996, and in that very same room, the boys are having a slumber party. Of course, they’re not allowed to call it a slumber party, because they’re boys over the age of twelve, and rules of social conduct dictate that it be called hanging out.
But, essentially, it was a slumber party.
Cas skipped a grade, while Dean was held back one, and as such, they haven’t seen as much of one another as either party would have liked.
Still, Dean is popular, and surprisingly, so is Cas: yes, he’s undeniably nerdy and not a little weird, but there’s an inherent niceness to him that makes him a pleasant person to be around.
Dean has had the pleasure of witnessing this all evening, as Cas interacts with Charlie, with Gabe, with Kevin and Garth and Benny, and even the little gray mixed breed that recently followed Sam home. Regardless of what is being said, Cas listens to each of them with his undivided attention, head nodding, blue eyes wide with interest.
Dean is content, for once, to quietly observe, witnessing his friend for the first time through the others’ eyes.
Later that night, however, when they line the floor like sleeping caterpillars in their multicolored sleeping bags, Dean once again has Cas all to himself, facing one another in the bunk they’d shared all those years ago.
There’s a flutter in their chests that wasn’t there before, a not-entirely-unpleasant sensation that neither one can place.
Years later, Dean won’t remember what it was Cas was saying. He’ll only remember the soft, gravelly rasp of his voice, his crystalline blue eyes as they stared so intently into his own.
He’ll remember how soft his chapped, full lips felt as he found himself kissing them, the tickle of his faint stubble.
He’ll remember the instant he pulled away, and the long moment in which they just silently stared, a million wordless protests racing through their minds: it’s the mid-nineties, and the heat of the AIDs epidemic is still fresh in the public’s memory. It’s by no means a good time to be gay, or anything close it.
More than anything, he’ll remember the exact moment he decided he didn’t care, that nothing in the world mattered more than having Castiel’s lips against his own.
He’ll remember the instant Cas silently agreed with him when he kissed back.
Cas is going to medical school. Sam is going to college.
Dean is going overseas.
In the end, he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter: he never had gotten his high school diploma, weighed down by the burden of being his family’s full-time emotional (and ultimately, financial) provider.
He’d tried so hard to juggle the two, coming home straight after school everyday to clean up and make dinner, to fill the role his mother had vacated when she’d died of cancer years before, and helping Sammy with his homework every evening before he even got started on his own.
He eventually had to give up and drop out of school entirely when John left them, and he had to get a full time job at his Uncle Bobby’s garage just to make ends meet.
But never once had Dean given up on the hope of making his life meaningful, of helping others and saving lives.
When he was younger, he’d wanted to go to nursing or medical school, perhaps become a paramedic, but as a high school flunky with five bucks to his name, this option is out for the time being.
So really, his only option is overseas.
Cas knew this, and he knows he should have prepared himself better. Yet this does little to stop the tears from falling as he holds his fiance’s hands, freshly gifted engagement rings glinting in the evening sun.
Dean smiles that goofy, crooked smile, puts on a brave face as he wipes the tears away.
“Hey, now,” he says, chuckling painfully. “Ain’t we talked about this, angel? You know I don’t do chick-flick moments.”
Cas smiles faintly, nearly argues that Dean loves chick-flicks and they both know it, but he finds he doesn’t have it in him for their usual, lighthearted banter.
“Promise me you’ll come home,” he says instead.
For a moment, Dean’s facade falters, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Still, his smile remains fixedly – painfully – in place.
“I promise, angel,” he whispers.
Eighteen months later, Dean comes home. Or rather, most of him does.
They’ll both realize, with time, that Dean lost a part of himself overseas, and it wasn’t just the tip of his now-stubby left pinky finger that he’ll forever use to give Sam wet willies for maximum gross-out factor. It wasn’t just the majority of the flesh of his left arm and ribcage, that took the brunt of the damage when the bomb went off, the drum-tight, pinkish scar tissue there to remind him whenever he examines himself shirtless in the bathroom mirror.
It’s something intangible, that will make itself evident the first time he ushers Cas away from their bedroom window, mind already anticipating the crackle of bullets and the shattering of class. The first time he wakes up, heart pounding, to the crashing of a garbage truck or early summer fireworks, every instinct screaming for him to find shelter.
Dean knows he lost something overseas, a part of himself he’ll never fully be able to recover.
But he’ll be okay. They both will.
In time, he’ll finally get his GED. He’ll go to community college, and then, to nursing school, finally able to fulfill his dream of saving lives, helping others in his own way.
He and Cas will get married in the fall, and though it will take years of convincing on Cas’s end, convincing that Dean will not become a replica of his father, they’ll have kids: Claire and Ben, adopted two years apart. Dean will be startled by how completely they feel like his own.
They’ll be okay. In spite of it all, they’ll be okay. Life will go on, and it will be a good one.
But for now, all that matters is here at the airport, searching the crowd for that messy head of raven hair he knows is waiting for him.
His heart skips a beat when he finally spots it.
The years have been good to Castiel. His shoulders visibly broader beneath his usual beige trench, a veritable sea of stubble framing the familiar, chapped lips. Eyes, somehow bluer than Dean remembered them, widened when they met his own.
Dean swallowed. Make no mistake, Cas had always been gorgeous, but now…damn.
For a moment, the two just stare at each other, neither sure what to say.
Finally, Dean chuckles wetly. “Angel,” he huffs, with his best attempt at a cocky smile. “You’re…you’re all grown up.”
Castiel says nothing. Wordlessly, he moves forward, strong arms enveloping Dean’s shoulders. Dean rests his head in the crook of his neck, breathing in a shaky, relieved breath as he feels the familiar prickle of stubble, taking in the clean, soapy scent he hadn’t known how much he’d missed. It makes him feel comforted.
It feels like home.
A soft, gravelly voice rasps gently in his ear, “Hello, Dean.”
Bellamy wakes up to whimpers. He finds the blankets that Clarke had given him in a heap on the floor and he shivers as he looks up. Illuminated by the firelight is Clarke, stretched out in the bed and shaking. He pads over, trying to keep quiet so he doesn’t wake Clarke. She’s so peaceful like this.
And, is that his shirt that she’s wearing?
She’s kicked off the comforter and he confirms that yeah, Clarke Griffin is wearing his old blue shirt. He had almost forgotten about that shirt until he’d packed to come here and await the end of the world.
He feels so useless right now, all he can do is give people speeches but he’s found he has some competition in that role from the blonde sleeping before him. He almost goes back to the couch to get a few more hours of sleep when Clarke starts screaming. He almost panics even though she’s the one sounding scared, it’s not a scream that he remembers ever hearing come from his partner’s throat. It’s similar to Raven’s in the aftermath of Finn, he remembers holding her as she fell apart and the fact that Clarke has nightmare bad enough to even create an echo of that screams terrifies him into action.
“Clarke, wake up.” He says, shaking her shoulder and she stops screaming but her breathing is still coming out dangerously fast.
“Clarke.” He says again, not really noticing that his tone is a bit pleading. She scrambles up and her eyes shoot open but he can tell that she’s not seeing him as she clutches the blankets to her chest and gasps in a breath.
“Hey.” He whispers, moving back from the bed so his bare back almost hits the mirror. She let out a shriek as she remembers that someone else is in the room.
“Bellamy?” She asks softly, her voice coming out low and throaty from all her screams.
“Yeah. I’m here, Clarke.” He replies in a whisper.
God, he wants to take her in his arms and kiss away all of her demons and show her that she’s worthy of the universe but the timing isn’t right. An ending isn’t the right time for their beginning.
“Did I wake you?” She asks and before he can answer, she whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Clarke shouldn’t have to feel like she has apologize to him for nightmares, he gets them every night too.
So that’s what he says in response, instead of the truth that hearing her in pain did wake him up.