i like his knees

for @ladyliberty7476 who wanted some more usnavi and sonny,, aka the worlds best cousins who love each other very very much

4

andallwaswell-ish  asked:

Draco dying his hair light blue

Harry can’t stop staring. His breakfast is forgotten. Malfoy’s hair is blue.

“Harry! Harry? What are you – “

“Malfoy.” Harry answers Hermione without looking away.

Ron pauses midway through a mouth of potato. “What?”

“Malfoy,” Harry explains again, “He – Look what he did.”

Hermione’s eyes remain fixed on Harry. “Don’t you think you need to stop obsessing over him? The war is over. We’re all on the same side.”

“No, look what he did to his hair!” Harry all but shouts. MALFOY’S HAIR IS BLUE.

Hermione and Ron finally follow Harry’s gaze to the Slytherin table to Draco Malfoy, blue hair and all.

“Bloody hell.”

“That is surprising,” Hermione admits.

“Maybe someone cursed him?” Ron suggests.

“I hope not,” Hermione frowns. “Like he doesn’t have enough to deal with – his mother is being retried this week.”

Harry’s chest constricts. “That’s this week?”

“Yes, Harry. I thought you were the one stalking him?”

“Well he has been sadder than usual. He’s been eating cereal since last Friday which is odd as he almost always goes for – what?” Harry stops at the looks Hermione and Ron are giving him.

Hermione shakes her head. “I was being facetious, Harry. I can’t believe you’re stalking him again.”

“I’m not stalking,” Harry clarifies, focusing his attention solely on Hermione and Ron to prove his point. Which is difficult when MALFOY’S HAIR IS BLUE. “I’m just observant.”

Hermione smiles wickedly and Harry already knows he’s stuffed before she opens her mouth. “Okay, then what do I usually eat for breakfast?”

Harry tries to eye her plate discreetly but she already has her hand covering it. He desperately tries to remember what she’d been eating only seconds earlier. “Uh….uh…”

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not stalking Malfoy,” Harry tries again.

Ron sniggers into his morning omelette. “Sure, mate.”

Hermione rests her head in her hands (revealing her breakfast of poached eggs). “Why don’t you go over there and ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

Hermione closes her eyes in obvious exasperation. “Why his hair is blue.”

“I can’t – “

“Mate, just go,” Interrupts Ron, now with a mouthful of tomato. “You’re going to be like this all day if you don’t.”


Malfoy looks up in surprise as Harry approaches, his cereal spoon hovering above his bowl. “Potter?”

“Malfoy.” Harry nods. He tries not to stare so openly at Malfoy’s hair but…it’s BLUE.

Malfoy drops his spoon and pushes the cereal away. He stares at Harry suspiciously. “Are you lost?”

“No, I – why is your hair blue?” Harry blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer.

One of Malfoy’s hands automatically jumps to his hair, as if he’d forgotten the colour for a moment. After the initial surprise, Malfoy’s turns defensive. “You got a problem with it?” He asks.

“No, not at all. It’s just – never mind. Forget I asked.” What was he thinking? What were Hermione and Ron thinking sending him over here? He turns to leave.

“it’s poetic, Potter.”

Harry turns back to Malfoy. “Poetic?”

Malfoy shrugs, and looks down into his cereal bowl. “I’m feeling blue. I dyed my hair to match. It made sense last night after the second bottle of firewhiskey.”

Harry considers this. “Your mother?” He asks, softly.

“Yes,” Malfoy says into his cereal.

“Do you – I mean, would you – would it help if I came with you?” Oh Merlin, did Harry really just say that?

Malfoy looks up, sharply. “Why would you want to do that?”

Harry feels his cheeks reddening. “Your mother saved my life,” he offers, which is true at least, but only a small part of his real motivation.

“Of course,” Malfoy says with a polite nod. Is Harry reading into it or does he seem…disappointed?

“And you might need…support.”

A small smile plays on the corner of Malfoy’s mouth. “I have friends, Potter.”

“Right, I didn’t mean to say – it’s just – I’d like to be there. For both of you.”

Malfoy tilts his head and looks Harry over with a curious gaze. This only makes Harry blush harder.

“Okay,” Malfoy finally says, “You can come.” He picks up his spoon and returns his attention to his cereal.


Harry can’t stop staring. His breakfast is forgotten. Malfoy’s hair is green.

“Go ask him, already.”


Malfoy looks up. This time he doesn’t seem surprised. “Potter. What brings you here?”

“You know what.”

Malfoy smirks. “Enlighten me.”

Harry stares at Malfoy’s hair. “Why green?”

Malfoy shrugs. “Just felt like it.”

Harry frowns. He wonders whether Malfoy’s being entirely truthful. “That’s not very poetic,” he points out.

“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,” Malfoy whispers.

Harry blinks, processing. “What?”

“His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he’s really divine, the hero who conquered the Dark Lord,” Malfoy continues with a shy smile. “Poetic enough for you?”

Harry feels himself blushing again.

“Maybe I should have gone pink to match your face,” Malfoy suggests with a wink. Merlin, Harry might melt.

“You remembered the po – “

“I wrote the poem,” corrects Malfoy.

Harry frowns “But I always thought Ginny – “

Malfoy shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Does that mean you – that you used to – “

Malfoy interrupts with a roll of his eyes. “Like you?”

Harry gulps. “Yeah.”

“I thought that was obvious, Potter.”

Harry feels like his knees might buckle at any moment. This is really happening. He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “And now?” he asks.

Malfoy raises his eyebrows, a playful smirk on his lips. “I thought that was also obvious, Harry.”            

And just to be an infuriating bastard, Malfoy chooses this moment to dust himself off and leave the Great Hall, with one last wink at Harry.

Harry wants to follow but he thinks his legs may have turned into jelly. He has to grip the table tightly just to keep himself standing.


Harry can’t stop staring. Breakfast never stood a chance.  Malfoy’s hair is pink.

He doesn’t even bother to take a seat at his own table, instead heading straight over to the Slytherin side of the Great Hall.

Malfoy watches him as he approaches with a smug smile. “Pot – “

Harry interrupts by leaning down and smashing his mouth onto Malfoy’s, his hands reaching out to finally run through that gorgeous hair. The entire Great Hall is watching and Harry’s face is on fire, but none of that matters, because Draco Malfoy is kissing him back.

And his hair is bloody pink.

I'm On My Knee

Hi babes! This is a marshmallow-soft story about the reader and Tom having a special inside joke. That inside joke being Tom dramatically falling down onto one knee to tease her after she accidentally tells him that it’s always been how she wants to get proposed to. The inside joke makes the both of them think a lot about their future and cuteness ensues! I hope that you like it!

Side note: The film was everything I wanted it to be and more? It owns my entire heart? The cast did so well and I’m so happy for all of them and my heart is just overflowing with love and I’m going to see the film again tomorrow!

I’m On My Knee

“He makes me want to wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.” She murmured to her boyfriend, utterly and completely inebriated. “I want to learn how to cook so he can always come home to a hot meal. He makes me want to learn more so that I’ll always have new things to talk to him about, and he makes me want to take care of myself so that I can look good for him. I wanna read every book on the planet earth and watch every film, just so I have stories to tell him before we go to sleep. But, mostly, he makes me wanna wear a white dress and walk down the aisle.”

    Tom smiled, securing a strong arm around her waist before she had the opportunity to slip from the barstool she was trying to twirl on. Holding her still, he questioned, “anything else you want, darling?”

    Lurching forward, she twined her arms around his neck and moved to perch on his knee. She shoved her face into Tom’s neck and breathed in deeply, dragging her hands across the expanse of her boyfriend’s chest. He smelled of french cologne, the fabric of his shirt felt soft beneath her cheek, and she was so close to him that she could count the beats of his heart. “I love you.”

    Supporting her frame, Tom kissed the top of her head, “I love you more.” She sighed into his chest and Tom helped her to her feet, making sure that he still had her locked in his arms. “Let’s get you home now, drunky.”

“I want him on his knee like in the old films,” she added before she allowed Tom to guide her to their parked car.

    Truly, Tom felt the same way about her, but there was no way that he wouldn’t tease her about her intoxicated confession every chance he got. He’d been dreaming about how beautiful she’d look walking down the aisle to meet him since their third date and it comforted him that she seemed to feel the same way.

    She knew that she had majorly screwed up the next morning when Tom dropped down onto one knee, offering her a bottle of advil and a glass of water to soothe the pounding in her head that refused to be ignored.

    “On my knee, baby, just how you wanted!” Tom smiled, his curls flopping down in his eyes in the most endearing of ways. She hated that he looked so cute while he was so successfully embarrassing her.

    Groaning, she brought her hands up to cover her face, “Tom, stop! I told you that I was just drunk. Let it go!” She pleaded, blush spreading as far as the tips of her ears.

    Her boyfriend feigned hurt feelings, “well, if you were truly joking, guess I’m out of here. Gotta go get me a girl who’s in it for the long haul.” Tom joked as he moved to walk out the door.

    “Tom,” she whined before rushing forward to keep him in place with a hug. “Stop being so dumb and help me make pancakes. You flip them better than I do.”

    Smiling down at her, Tom took of her hands within his own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “One day, I’ll be way more than just your boyfriend who flips pancakes better than you do. One day, I’ll be your husband who flips pancakes better than you do.” Tom laughed, picking her up to spin her around the kitchen.

    She was happy that Tom was focused on not dropping her or running into anything because she was even pinker than she’d thought previously possible and she was positive that the smile on her face was so huge that her face would crack into halves. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have the greatest job, it didn’t matter that she was absolute shit at math, in fact, she couldn’t think of anything that mattered to her more than what Tom had just said. He was planning on a future with her and she was so elated that she spent the entire rest of her week floating from place to place on a bed made of cotton candy clouds.

    The next time Tom dropped to one knee for her, it was in the flower shop while she was sifting through bins of tulip bouquets for their friend’s dinner party. “Because I love you,” Tom said, holding out a bundle of daisies.

    Rolling her eyes, she took the flowers and bent forward to kiss Tom tenderly on the mouth. “Because I love you,” she repeated back to him before taking both bouquets to the register while Tom struggled to free his wallet before she could pay for her daisies.

    The time after that, Tom fell to one knee when she had come home with smudged mascara and tears dripping from the corners of her eyes. Hurrying off the couch, he dropped to one knee in front of her, pulling her to perch softly onto his popped knee. “What’s the matter darling?”

    Shrugging her shoulders, her lower lip trembled and she merely hid her face in Tom’s neck.  Stroking her hair and mumbling the words to ‘Moon River’ into her ears, Tom waited for her to tell him what was upsetting her. He did his best to search his mind for anything he could’ve done, anything her friend’s could’ve done, anything at home that could have upset her and came back with nothing. Tom briefly had a fleeting feeling that he was failing as her husband until it clicked in his brain that he hadn’t ever gotten down on one knee before her to present her with an actual ring.

    That night, while she snuggled into the crook of his arm, her face hidden so close to his neck that Tom could feel her lips press into his skin, he looked up some photos of rings. Each time Tom found a particularly nice ring, he’d zoom in and envision it on her lovely hands. Looking down at her hand that was loosely curled around his waist, he murmured to her sleeping form, “nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands.” His girl had been on an E.E. Cummings kick and clearly the poetry she read aloud to him had rubbed off on Tom.

    Placing his phone back into it’s charging station on their nightable, Tom laid down and  made sure to lace his fingers through her own before he shut eyes to sleep, agreeing with E. E. Cummings  that nobody had such small hands. Such small hands that a glittering ring would only compliment.

    The next weekend, as she and Tom strolled through the supermarket to grab some fresh vegetables and fruit, and maybe a loaf of bread to go along with dinner, Tom spotted the baked goods aisle. Getting completely sidetracked, Tom stood staring at the pastries while she carried on in search of the produce section. Glancing at her retreating figure and then back at the deserts, Tom grabbed an armful of cookies, cinnamon rolls and cupcakes before hurrying after her.

    Her eyes widened when she saw her boyfriend nearly skipping towards her, arms overflowing with pastries. “Tom,” she started, cocking her hip and raising her brows, “that is ridiculous. Pick one thing, we already have too many snacks as it is!”

    “No, no, darling, you don’t get it. We’d leave the cinnamon rolls for breakfast, and we could eat the cookies as a snack, and then the cupcakes could be after dinner.” Tom tried to ration.

    “Tom, I’ll eat them all and then get bigger and you know I’m trying to look good this summer!” She whined, shaking her head and silently pleading for Tom to at least put one of the items he was holding back.

    Shuffling the food around in his arms, Tom attempted to clutch all the food with only one hand. Gently moving her hair away from her eyes, Tom kissed her temple. “Darling, you know that you’re perfect. There’s nothing wrong with how you look, and nothing would be wrong with how you look even if you decided to inhale the entire pastry department on your own. I love the way you think, how kind you are to others, and you’re one of the smartest and least arrogant people that I know! I love you for your heart, and your brain. I thank the universe every night for your lungs and your kidneys, because they make you. You’re sweet-ass body just happens a perk of loving you.”

    Tom kissed her one last time before dropping down onto one knee before her, “c’mon angel, please?” He asked one last time.

    Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend’s cheesiness, she placed the cupcakes and the cinnamon rolls in her basket before leading Tom over to the fruit and asking him to pick out the crunchiest apples for their salad.

    When Tom fell to one knee again, it was after she had gone shopping with her friends and was currently modeling her new purchases at his request. She had exited the bathroom in which she was changing in, wearing an extremely short, white dress that left very little, if anything to Tom’s imagination. The dress was littered with small, red roses and had straps that were tied into a bow. As she twirled for him, Tom could see that the straps were the only thing holding her new dress together and by the time that she’d stopped her spinning, Tom was on one knee.

    “Should I take this off myself or do you wanna get up off the floor and help me?” She giggled, toying with the bow sitting atop her shoulder blade.

    As Tom carefully untied her dress and watched it fall to the ground, he muttered, “pretty ring would go nice with the roses.”

    She could barely hear what Tom had said, let alone comprehend it, as he began to pepper her exposed body with warm kisses. Stuttering out an barely audible, “uh-huh,” as Tom mouthed over the sensitive spot she had just beneath her ear.

    As time went on, “I’m on my knee,” became a phrase that she would hear from Tom almost as frequently as he said “I love you.” He’d drop to his knee in public, private, essentially everywhere they went. She was nearly convinced that Tom on his knee wouldn’t ever mean anything other than their inside joke, but little did she know how Tom feeling.

    Each time he dropped down onto one knee before her, it always made him long to obtain a ring to present her with. Considering that he was on his knee for her essentially everyday now, so much so that even the press was completely desensitized to photos of Tom on his knee before his girl, he was legitimately out and about looking for rings.

    He’d recruited his mother to assist with the search, begged Harrison, Jacob, his brothers, his father, and even her mother to help him with the search, but none of them could find a ring that Tom felt was worthy of her hands. Each time someone would send him a photo of a ring that left Tom dissatisfied, which was often, he’d simply send back the verse from ‘Somewhere I Have Never Traveled, Gladly Beyond,’ regarding the smallest of hands. At this point, nobody was sure what he meant. Once Harrison had tried to clarify what exactly the rain having tiny hands had to do with the ring search, but he came back describing a look of genuine craziness in his best mate’s eyes and decided to drop it.

    It was only after Tom had wandering into an antique shop with his mother that he found something perfect for her. The wedding ring was vintage and even came with an engagement ring, and after Tom had spent countless hours on the weekend thrifting and wandering in an out of hidden gem shops with his girl, he knew that she’d love it.

    Tom could only hide the ring for about a week. He was utter and complete shit at hiding things, especially from her, and the ring felt as if it was burning a hole through his pocket. He couldn’t wait to let the whole world know that she was going to his forever and he’d be hers for just as long. Tom just needed to create the perfect moment.

    Luckily for him, the perfect moment came the very next morning. Tom trailed behind her, kissing the back of her neck softly as she laughed and threaded her fingers up through his curls. They were deep within the poetry section of the most massive library Tom had ever seen and when she reached up to grab a novel, Tom felt as if the wind got knocked out of him. In her hands sat a copy of E. E. Cummings collected poems and while she sifted through the pages, Tom prayed inwardly to the universe for her to read the poem that he knew was destined to be hers.

    Not allowing her time to chose a poem, Tom dropped down to one knee while her back was still turned on him. Digging the ring out from the confines of his pocket, he could only get the last few lines of the poem out. “I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice in your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

    As Tom neared the end of the poem, she turned and opened her mouth to say the last verse with him. “Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.” She smiled, completely prepared to meet Tom’s eyes as she finally faced him.

    At first, the only thing her mind could register was that her boyfriend was on his knee, as always. It took her a second to take in the ring that glittered off of the library’s bright ceiling chandelier. Pressing a hand over her lips, she struggled to breath, her small hands gripping the open poetry book in her hands. “Do you mean it, Tom?” She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the ring he was presenting her with.

    His eyes were glassy in the light, and Tom smiled, “course I do, darling. I’m on my knee after all.”


aged-up!ladybug. i’ve been wanting to redesign her outfit for a while

Otp Imagines: Interrupting Prayer

Person A: *smirks* Want to know what I like doing?

Person B: Hmm what pray tell is it?

Person A: Getting on my knees to-

Person C: -PRAISE OUR LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST AMEN!

Person A: tch *rolls their eyes* I was going to say, before I was rudely interrupted-

Person B: That he likes to get on his knees to-

Person C: PRAY TO OUR LORD Almighty GOD!

Person A: TO SUCK HIS DICK!

Person C: Oh lord protect my virgin ears!

Person B: Oh shut up you’re just as bad as he is

The Bedroom Mentor

Originally posted by a-marvelous-bean

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader

Request: Hey doll :) I had an idea but I’m not sure if you like it. You’re a recruit for SHIELD and get trained by the Avengers and your Mentor is Bucky. So during the time together you slowly fall in love with each other but you reject him one time cause you don’t want to get in Trouble and leave the Training upset. Later that evening Buck Comes to your room and wants to have a talk with you but he can’t contain himself and you both end up having sex :) then he holds you and asks you to be his ? :) -anon

Warnings: language, smut/unprotected sex (18+), nsfw, some oral (male receiving)

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: I listened to Africa by Toto on repeat while I wrote this whole fic. I don’t really have an explanation why, but it happened. I really enjoyed this three-day break from my first week of school but now it’s back to classes tomorrow. Anyways, feel free to send in more requests! Hope this is what you were lookin’ for!


A few months ago, Nick Fury had hunted you down in the middle of one of your freelance missions and offered you a position working for S.H.I.E.L.D. Naturally, your first instinct was to laugh in his face. Working for him and the organization meant having to abide by someone else’s rules, which, up until that point, you had always taken whatever missions you wanted, and never had to follow any other rules besides your own. But here you are, three months later, lacing up your shoes to get ready to start your training with the Avengers. Each new recruit - no matter how much experience they’ve had prior to joining S.H.I.E.L.D. - is required to go through the training, and are assigned mentors. You haven’t been told who your mentor will be yet, but honestly, you just wanted to get this over with.

You sigh and push up from the bench in the locker room, and saunter down the hallway leading to the training room as you threw your hair up into a quick, tight ponytail. Pushing through the door, you’re greeted by a bright, natural light streaming in through the skylights of the training room, and spot Fury standing near the main entrance.

“Y/N, glad you could join us,” Fury’s sarcastic voice rings out through the air as you jog up to them. You immediately recognize the other man towering behind him as James Buchanan Barnes - the Winter Soldier. Like everyone else on Earth, you were very well aware of who Bucky is - or, more accurately, was. He was strikingly gorgeous. His thick, soft locks of hair were pulled back into a bun, and the scruff on his face made his jawline look even sharper than usual. The tight black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest looked like it could rip if he breathed too deeply, and it was paired with slouching sweatpants and black tennis shoes. The smooth metal of his left arm glistened in the light. You were convinced you had never seen a man more beautiful than him, and you tried your best to brush away the steamy thoughts surfacing in your mind.

Keep reading

welp. i don’t really know how this happened, but it just kinda did. WC: 1510

klance, mild klangst, confessions, first kiss


Lance hums. “Really? You think?” 

The alien giggles, a small, tinkling laugh that makes Keith’s fists ball at his sides. He works his jaw, fixing his gaze on the beautiful red, blue, green, yellow, and black banners hanging from the ceiling.

The planet, Xylo, had been overrun with Galra, it’s inhabitants, the Xylans, being treated as slaves, working to harvest the precious gems in near the core of the planet. Many had died in the work, the heat, radiation, and brutal conditions too much, but those that lived fought side by side with Voltron, with a valor unmatched by any other planet they’ve ever encountered. 

It had been a sight Keith is unlikely to ever forget. He remembers this planet’s queen, Kani, charging an entire squadron of Galran sentries, ripping a blaster out of one of their hands and taking down each and every one before Voltron even had time to turn to offer her any sort of assistance.

Another tinkling giggle. Keith’s eye twitches, feels his nostrils flare. He needs to leave before he ruins a happy alliance before it even starts.

Keith grabs a drink off of the tray of a waiter, downing it one go, placing it back on the tray, and making his way for the door.

He pushes through the crowd. Everyone is gathered around the main floor, one traditionally used for ballroom dances, but all music had been destroyed by the galra. All the Xylans are still in their makeshift armor, and the Paladins still in their own colored suits. 

As he pushes through them, a couple pieces of their armor falls off, but no one seems to care. A hand places itself on his shoulder, he pauses, sees a large hand with Black Paladin armor, and shrugs it off as he resumes. There’s a sigh, but no footsteps follow him.

He trudges his way out the door and through the blue-brown dirt towards the Castle.

Fuck Lance. Fuck Lance and all his flirts. Fuck him and his crass carelessness. Fuck him and his stupid, beautiful face. Fuck him and his dazzling smile. Fuck him and his kind, caring heart. Fuck him and his ability to make anyone laugh. Fuck. Him.

He knows he has a crush on Lance. Knows he wants to cuddle him, kiss him, hold hands with him, boop his nose, peck his cheek, massage his legs. He knows this. 

But Lance doesn’t. Lance and his thick skull paired with Keith’s inability to do jack shit about his feelings means that that’s all he’ll know. He’ll never know how much Keith wants him. He’ll never know about how he dreams of Lance, hoping to wake up to his bubbly face and low, tired voice. He’ll never know that Keith is so far in over his head that he did a full on backflip. 

Finding himself somehow at the door of his room, he presses the control panel, clicking to slide it open.

God, he just wishes he could say something. At least if Lance said no, he’d be caring enough to not just flirt with every being in existence right in front of Keith. Well, that or he’d very purposefully do just that, but Keith doesn’t really think he would.

Keith flops onto his bed, armor still on. It’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t care. He focuses on the armor digging into his back and thighs, trying to keep his mind off of Lance.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the twinges of anger leaving his body, only to be replaced by a deep-set ache. A loneliness yet to be filled. A hole so open in his heart, one that he knows one person could fill perfectly, and yet it won’t ever happen.

It sends a chill throughout his body as it weighs it down. As the knowledge that the one man he wants, the one man he knows he could truly love, has less than no interest in him.

He pushes his head further back into the pillow and lets out a huff. 

Knock knock

Keith raises his head slightly, but doesn’t say anything. If he’s quiet, they’ll go away.

“Keith?”

Lance. 

Nope.

“Go away, Lance,” says Keith, frustration tinging his voice.

He can almost hear the hesitation at the door.

“I’ll talk through the door if I have to,” says Lance. It’s meant to sound like a threat, but there’s an air of… helplessness in his voice. And it’s just that that makes Keith get up, walking over to the door and open it for Lance.

Keith doesn’t say anything to him, just turns and flops back down on the bed, leg hanging off the side.

Lance grabs it under his knee, lifting it up as he sits down before placing it back down, on top of his

Keith pretends like he can’t feel the sheer warmth coming from Lance’s thigh and pretends that merely being able to rest his leg over Lance’s isn’t make his face slowly become hotter and hotter. 

He doesn’t dare look at Lance, but he can feel a slight movement, probably him moving his arms or shaking his other leg or something.

There’s a long, awkward silence, neither of them willing to speak, but both waiting for the other to start. 

Eventually Keith gives in.

“What d -” starts Keith.

“I’m sorry,” says Lance.

Keith furrows his brows, but doesn’t say anything. Lance takes the hint.

“I didn’t… She was just…” Lance sighs. Keith feels his elbow through the armor on his calf. He raises his head slightly to see him, his head is in his hands, one elbow on his knee, other on Keith’s calf.

“I like you, okay? I thought that if I… If I flirted with people in front of you, you’d get jealous and you’d come running, and I dunno. I know that that’s dumb, everything I do is dumb, but I just wanted you to like me and more than just a friend and I just… I dunno,” Lance trails off at the end, fingers slitting open, letting one eye peek over at Keith. 

But Keith doesn’t hear the rest. He doesn’t hear anything after okay? Even if he wanted to, his pulse spiked, pounding in his ears. His breathing quickened, every inhale and exhale echoed five times over in his head. 

He bolts straight up, but his leg over Lance’s makes him lose his balance. Without hesitation, hands - Lance’s hands - land on his hip and shoulder, stopping him from falling back over. They burn him where they rest, for him to remember for the rest of his days.

Not even thinking, Keith surges forward, but he misses. He kisses the corner of Lance’s mouth, feeling it tug into a shy smile under him. Lance pulls away, but his hand on Keith’s shoulder slides up to the back of Keith’s neck.

Keith blinks at him, heart beating up into his throat as Lance’s shy smile disappears. As the hand on the back of his neck slowly pulls him in. As lips press a nervous, tentative kiss onto his own. Keith tries to kiss him back, add more - more flare to it, but only succeeds in colliding his nose with Lance’s.

He feels his face flush even more as Lance chuckles as they pull back. “It’s okay,” he whispers to Keith. “We can work on it.”

Keith ducks his head, a hand coming up over his eyes. Lance chuckles again, low and soothing, as he places a hand on Keith’s wrist, gently tugging it from his face. Keith lets him.

Bringing it up to his lips, Lance presses a soft, fluttery kiss to the inside of his wrist. Then in a circle around his palm. Then to the pads of each and every one of his fingers.

His eyes flick up to Keith, who wants to look away, whose every instinct is telling him to look away, but just can’t. Lance leans forward, tilting his head too much to be coming in for a kiss. No, instead, Lance places a peck to Keith’s cheek, nuzzling his nose into it before sitting back down.

They just stare at each other, happy with the silence in between them, happy to sit there and take in every single detail of the others’ face.

Keith had always known that Lance’s eyes were a blue, but he never noticed the slight green tint they had to them, or the fleck of brown in the top left of his right one. He’d never seen the smattering of barely-there freckles dotting his nose and cheekbones, or the one noticeable freckle hidden in the hairs of his right eyebrow. He’d never realized just how long his eyelashes were, nor how his deep brown hair framed his face so gently it seemed like it was almost too afraid to be around such beauty.

Keith’s heart flutters in his chest. He can’t believe this is real. He may not know exactly what they are yet, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Lance likes him. Lance really, truly likes him. 

George Weasley x Reader Imagine: Just a Little Jealous

Imagine George saving Harry at a Quidditch game and all the girls drooling over him, so you show up and not so subtly, show them who he belongs to. But later, when you were the one who made a record amount of scores as a Chaser, all the boys are going crazy over you. That is, until George steps in and does the same thing you did, but much more extreme. ;)

Originally posted by obviouslyphelps

Originally posted by sorority-of-bitches

It was your 5th year at Hogwarts, and your 5th year of being a chaser. You were in the locker rooms, being given a speech by Oliver Wood, and you were about to play Slytherin. You hated the Slytherin Quidditch team. All they ever did was cheat, and Snape always let them get away with everything. (heh, get it? Snape, always? Sorry.) “Alright? Good. Let’s get out there, and win!” You knew the match would be tough, but it was taking forever. The score was currently 70 for Gryffindor, and 90 for Slytherin. You were trying to get the Slytherin chasers away from Angelina, but it wasn’t working. You were swearing under your breath and you didn’t even notice a bludger coming straight towards your head. That was, until, a certain ginger haired sweetheart flew in front of you, and hit it with his bat. “Thanks babe!” You said as you went to steal the Quaffle away from a Slytherin. You caught it, and threw it into the goal, the quaffle itself not being noticed the keeper, who was focused on you, but in a way that you didn’t care for. You could see that he was staring at your breasts, and smirking. “Ugh, gross” you thought before you yelled to him, “hey, what your problem pervert?!” He quickly looked towards Lee Jordan, who spoke into the microphone, “SCORE BY (Y/L/N), THAT MAKES 100 FOR GRYFFINDOR” the crowd screamed, except the Slytherins, who were furious. Luckily, George didn’t notice the keeper staring at you. You knew he couldn’t control his anger when he got jealous of other guys hitting on you, but when another guy did ANYTHING remotely inappropriate to you, he probably would’ve done something to get himself banned from the team, and right now, you needed to win. The crowd was going crazy, since Harry found the Snitch, and was about to catch it. He was just inches from catching it, when suddenly, there was a bludger headed straight towards him. Then, George swept behind Harry, in front of the bludger, and whacked it away from him. Only seconds later, Harry caught the snitch, and everyone, except the Slytherins, were cheering. Lee screamed into the microphone, “POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, GRYFFINDOR WINS THE MATCH!” You screamed along with the rest of the crowd, and you were so proud of your boyfriend, the crowd was was even cheering, instead of Potter, “WEASLEY! WEASLEY! WEASLEY!” You dreamily stared at him, and he winked at you, making you blush.

The next day, you were on your way to your next class, holding hands with George in the corridor, and you saw a few Hufflepuff girls walking past you. Normally, you wouldn’t care, but they were whispering and giggling when they said, “Hi George.” He said hey back, and they looked as if they might faint. “That was weird.” You said. “Don’t worry (y/n), I only have eyes for you.” “I know, I just don’t like other girls checking you out.” After that, things only got worse, but you figured out how to stop those hoes from flirting with George. When you saw them getting too close to him, which was annoying for both of you, (that loyal little cutie,) you simply walked up to him and said, “hi Georgie. You look really hot today.” And he would move closer to you, and put his hands on you hips, and say, “oh really?” And you would reply yes, and start kissing him passionately, then moving to his neck, leaving hickies everywhere. And then he would grab your bum, and start giving you hickies everywhere. And the whole time he did it to you, you stared the girl straight in the eyes, while she made a disgusted face, and walked away. The next week, you had another Quidditch game, against Slytherin again. The score was 200 for Gryffindor, and 60 for Slytherin. 160 of those points for Gryffindor had been achieved from you. You had scored this many goals before, but you were determined to beat the Hogwarts record for most goals. You even had hoped to be a Chaser professionally one day. You spotted the Quaffle and flew from behind to snatch it out of the Slytherin Chaser’s hands. You did this over and over again, and by the time Harry caught the snitch, the score was 370 to 120. Then 150 more points meant Gryffindor defintely won, and you had scored 300 points for your team, crushing the previous record of 240. You and the rest of the team, were so overjoyed that as soon as you came back to the ground, they gave you a big group hug, and the twins lifted you on their shoulders. Then everyone from Gryffindor came to the field from the stands, and were super excited as well. Beating the record meant not only did you get to be on the radar of professional Quidditch teams, and the Gryffindor team was officially the best, but it also gave Gryffindor house 75 points, and a shiny trophy in the trophy room, that would be remembered for generations to come. That night at dinner in the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore called you up to accept your trophy, and rewarded Gryffindor house with 75 points. You had to hold back tears of joy as you walked back to your table. You sat in between the twins and George gave you a long passionate kiss on the lips, making you smile from ear to ear. Later that night, a huge party was thrown in the common room, where both you and George drank a little too much fire whiskey, making you both a little tipsy. However, this was a Saturday, so you had time to recover. On Monday, things started to get a little out of order again. At first it was OK, the guys from Gryffindor were giving you high fives and congratulating you on winning. But when it moved to other houses, and them touching you not so appropriately, since they weren’t your boyfriend, you started to get a little worried. Most of the girls had stopped hitting on George, but the guys had just gotten started. It was really starting to affect your relationship, you were arguing about it, and ignoring it, which made you ignore each other more. You really didn’t want this to happen, and you were trying to get all the boys to shove off. Luckily, you and George had stopped ignoring each other, but it was because of an argument. “You think I wanted this to happen? I hate this, I can’t stand us fighting, I’m starting to feel unsafe Georgie!” You yelled, with tears forming in your eyes. “Are you sure (y/n)? That you absolutely can’t shake them off? Seriously, you look like such a little slut!” The moment that word came out of his mouth, you both instantly regretted it. You let out a sob, and tears started streaming down your face. You were going to run to your bed and cry, but he started apologizing, and you knew he didn’t mean it. He held you in his arms, and you cried into his chest. “I-I can’t keep doing this, Georgie,” “I know, I’m sorry, you’ll be alright.” Just when you thought it would never stop, something happened, that you’ll never forget. Another Gryffindor was sitting in the common room next to you, flirting with you, of course, when he he took it too far. George was watching, as he always was, but he was getting a little jealous. “So, you’ve gotta be pretty talented to beat a record like that.” “Yea, I guess.” He suddenly put his on your knee, and leaned in for a kiss, but you put your hands on his shoulders, and shoved him away, then smacked him in the face. You made eye contact with George, seeing his eyes turn dark brown, and nodded with him, both of you knowing exactly what to do next. He moved to the couch where you were sitting, picked you up in his arms, and carried you to his room, most people watching. As soon as you stepped into his room, he locked the door with his wand. He then put you on his bed, went on top of you, and started attacking your neck with open-mouthed kisses, leaving hickies, making you gasp. He moved down closer to your breasts, and quickly unbuttoned your shirt, then unclasping your bra, throwing it across the room, as if he never wanted to see it again. He started kissing your breasts, then massaging them as well. He pinched your nipple, which made you loudly moan. He grinned when he heard it, so he did it to the other breast time, and you moaned even louder. He started kissing them again, but moved down to your skirt, and practically ripped it off you. He didn’t waste any time moving to your heat, then taking off your lacy blue underwear, and inserting his tongue into you. You immediately screamed with pleasure, and could feel his grin, as he sucked on your clit. You put your hands in his hair, trying not to scream with every move he made. He knew that the more you distracted yourself by playing with his hair, the less noise you would make. And that’s not what he wanted. He wanted you scream his name so everyone could know you were his, and ONLY his. He grabbed your hands and put them above him, still violently thrusting his tongue into you. You ignored this, and put them back in his hair, eyes still shut tight in ecstasy. He once again pushed your hands away from his hair, but you put them back in his hair. By this time, he had enough. He pulled away and said, “Jesus, (y/n), can you just stay still for one minute?” You managed you say, “Never.” “Fine.” He pulled away from you, grabbed his Gryffindor tie, and tied you up tightly. You liked his dominance, and were ready for more. He looked down at your folds and said, “so wet for me, huh?” And he began sucking on your clit again. You were breathing heavily, and moaning his name, which you could tell was turning him on. He could tell you were close to coming, so he rubbed your thighs, and laughed, which sent vibrations through your body, and as much as you tried to deny it, you couldn’t stop what he had done to you. You screamed, “GEORGE!!!!!!!!!” You came, screaming his name, releasing yourself, him taking in everything he could. He slowly pulled his tongue out of you, watching you panting from your orgasm. After a minute or so, you opened your eyes to see George, hovering above you, admiring your beauty, proud that he left you breathless and speechless, and you realized he had untied you. “So, I’ll ask you once again, could any other guys do that to you?” You weren’t finished though. You wanted more, you wanted him. It wasn’t just about him making all the boys know you were his, it was also about making the girls know he was yours. So you innocently said, “oh Georgie, that’s not fair.” He quickly responded, louder, “what’s not fair?!” You giggled, and said, “it’s not fair how you can make me feel so good, but I can’t do the same to you.” “Well I never said you couldn’t, (y/n).” “Good.” You flipped the two of you over so you were on top, and he was on the bottom. You slowly moved down from his bare chest, to his toned stomach, and finally to his pants. You breathed your hot breath onto his abdomen while you stroked his crotch with you hand, and you could hear his breathy gasp, and feel him getting hard. “You want this baby? ” he quickly nodded. “Are you sure? Just from me, no one else?” He nodded again, and you slowly started to unzip his pants, and take them off as slowly as you could. You could tell he was getting impatient, and you were glad. You slowly pulled off his pants, and by now he was squirming. He pulled himself up to try to strip himself, but you pushed him back down. “No, it’s my turn. I’m gonna make you feel amazing.” You moved back down to his pants, actually taking them off this time, along with his boxers. You told him, “baby, I want you to be as loud as you can. So all those other girls can hear who you belong to.” He whispered out, “and I want you to show me who I belong to.” You smirked as you grabbed his hard member in your hand and said, “don’t worry, I will.” You placed your tongue on the tip of his dick, and he immediately moaned. You laughed a little, and placed it in your mouth. He gasped, and you started to suck on it. He was already a moaning mess, and you were loving it. You were massaging his balls as you sucked harder and harder, until he pushed your head towards his cock, making you gag, you pushed his hands away, just as he did to you, but still obeyed what he wanted you to do. He kept moaning, and groaning, and you knew he was about to come, so you did the same thing he did to you to get you to come. You tightly grabbed his hips and moaned with his dick still in your mouth. That was it. He released himself in your mouth, and you swallowed his cum in gulps, not letting a drop of it go. You pulled away from him, and layed on your side next to him. He was still trying to catch his breath, and you smiled at him, proud of what you had done. “So, now do you know that you belong to me?” He had finally caught his breath, and said, “I don’t know, do you belong to me?” You smiled as moved your eyes to the ceiling as you said, “wellll, I can think of another way you can show me.” “Same here.” You were about to ask what, as if you didn’t already know, but his fingers were already stroking your vagina. You lightly moaned, and he smirked. He climbed on top of you, and you stared into his eyes, which were now a dark brown. He slowly slipped into you, and you softly moaned. “That’s it baby, louder” he said as he went slightly deeper. You wrapped your legs around his waist, telling him to go deeper. “Scream for me.” “Make me baby” “of course” he went faster as you scratched your nails on his back. He grabbed your breast with one hand, and held himself up with the other. Before you knew it, he was pounding into you, both of you moaning at every thrust. You flipped him over, and started bouncing on him, hitting your g-spot every time. He wanted to be the dominant one, so he flipped you over again, so now he was on top. He pounded into you, harder and faster than he ever had before. “George, I-I can’t f-feel my legs!” “Mhmm” Both of you were moaning, very loud, and as much as you tried to hide it, you were close. But George knew, he always did. He whispered into your ear, “come for me baby. Scream so the world can know you’re mine.” And with just one more thrust, you came, with following closely after. “GEOOOORGE!!!!!!!!” screamed so loud you were sure even the people in the Slytherin dorms could hear. He pulled himself off of you, both of you still panting, trying to catch your breath. “(Y/n)?” “Yes, Georgie?” “I’m so yours.” “Good. Because I’m yours.” He winked at you, making you blush. “So, should we go downstairs, and make sure everyone got the message?” “I would love to, but I’m not sure how.” “What do you mean? Did I hurt you?” “No, I still can’t feel my legs.” “Oh really? Let me have a look then.” He smirked, took the sheets off you, and stared at your naked body. Not in a creepy way, but in a cherishing way. “Well I don’t see anything wrong with them.” He ran his hand from your hip to your breast, then back down to your stomach, and he added a hand, and you knew what he was doing. “George! No! Stop!” He tickled you, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. He finally stopped, and you caught your breath. “Now how are those legs feeling?” You looked at him, and said, “they’re not feeling anything. I-I think, you’ll need to carry me.” “Well, I think you should get dressed first. We wouldn’t want anyone else to see what belongs to me.” “Of course not baby.” He grabbed all of your clothes from around his room, and watched as he slowly put everything back on your body for you. He started with your panties, blue, with lace, the ones that you knew he liked. As he put them on, he breathed his hot breath on your vagina, making you gasp, slightly turning you on. He let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry love, there’ll be time for that later tonight, it’s seems to me as that’s what you were planning on.” “You know you like it when I wear these.” “And how do you that Miss (y/l/n)?” “Because Mr. Weasley, I found them in your pocket the other day.” “Oh, right. Forgot about that.” He pulled your panties all the way on, then moved to your skirt, then your bra, and your button up shirt. While he was buttoning it up, he gave you small kisses on your breasts. Once he finished that, he moved back to your legs, slipped on your tights, and put on your shoes. Then, you watched him get dressed, looking for all his clothes around the room. When he finally got all his clothes on, he moved back to you, still lying on the bed, and said, “well, are you sure you can’t get up?” You playfully said, “I am absolutely certain.” “Alright then.” He wrapped his arms around you, and picked you up, bridal style. He then put you down, so you were standing up, and then you fell to the ground, him catching you before your bum hit it. “See, I wasn’t joking, I really can’t feel my legs Georgie.” He looked down and said, “oh, sorry (y/n).” You giggled and said, “don’t worry Georgie, I feel wonderful.” And with that, he carried you to the common room. There, some people cheered for you, while the girls gave you the evil eye, and gossiped about you. And the guys muttered words like, “lucky” and “I’m the one who deserves a piece of that ass.” But you didn’t care, they could talk about you two all they wanted, but they weren’t the ones in your relationship. You looked at George and said, “so, I know you already ate something, but did you wanna head to dinner?” “I’d love that” he carried you to the dining hall, and carried you back when you were finished. From then on, hardly anyone ever flirted with either of you again, and when they did, well, you know. ;)

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Today we are going to look at an amusing historical fact: The time that beloved poets Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman met, got drunk, and slept together.

(Closed Captioning coming soon) 

Transcript Below:

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Y'all are never gonna sell me on the idea that Lyanna “didn’t wanna marry her betrothed Robert cause he was a womanizer with a bastard son” Stark and Rhaegar “apparent fuckboy husband and father of two, who he made bastards just so he could marry his side-chick in his wife’s hometown and, at the same time, destroy the alliance with Dorne that took two centuries of war and bloodshed to gain peace in the seven kingdoms” Targaryen is some great epic romance. Don’t even try, cause its never gonna happen.