obsessed with his eyes

anonymous asked:

Drabble Challenge 1-150 94. “Did they hurt you?”

94. Drabble challenge:

When Jason burst in with his men, he had the look of a serial killer. 

“Whoops.“ Dick grinned at his captor, split lips stung like hell but damn, he enjoyed the horror on that bastard’s face.

“No!“ His captor, a creepy doctor with a sick obsession with blue eyes, dropped the syringe he had planted to plug into Dick’s eyes down the concrete floor. 

Jason’s men had him before he even made it three steps to the door, hauling him up like an ugly angry alley cat. Jason walked toward him, smashing his glasses under the force of his punch, breaking the guy’s nose with a short and delicious crack. 

Now that would definitely leave some sort of inner injury to the brain. Dick knew the power of Jason’s fist, had been on the job long enough to know the hole he had left on that sick doctor’s face wouldn’t go away in a few days. 

A part of Red Hood’s men went around the warehouse, setting on a full manhunt for the rest of the other doctors, soon enough, screams and gunshots filled the air. 

Jason walked toward Dick’s place, still sitting and bounded on the chair. He made a quick job with the robe, and suddenly dropped both knees to the ground.

“Did they hurt you?“ 

His voice was so rough but he made it so soft, gloved off and bare hand went up to touch Dick’s bruised cheek.

Dick shook his head and smiled at him, feeling powerful when Jason’s head rested down his lap. 

Red Hood is fear and nightmare, the scare in Gotham’s streets and the boogieman that made criminals yelped like kids. No one had him like this, no one had him gentle and soft and kneeling like this, except Dick. 

“No one takes you away from me.“ He grunted, going on full mantrum. 

And Dick, Dick was always too weak when Jason was this sweet.

“No one.“


alex turner // everything you’ve come to expect // album booklet edits

photos: zackery michael

the reason why there’s no garrison flashback now is ‘cause we’d know that keith, in fact, did remember lance and had a crush on him since day one



“Dorian Havilliard smiled at her. It was a polished smile, and reeked of court-trained charm…Yet there was something in his eyes, strikingly blue—the colour of the waters of the southern countries—and the way they contrasted with his raven-black hair that made her pause. He was achingly handsome, and couldn’t have been older than twenty”

Throne of Glass, Sarah J. Maas.

anonymous asked:

just imagine lance and keith switching bodies after some "weird" experience they had in some other mission. and then they just wake up and everyone hears lance in keith's body screaming "I HAVE A FUCKING MULLET, NOOOOO" and keith is like "what the fuck is going on with me? wait - wHAT TEH FUCK IS GOINDG ON WITH ME?" and they freak out together just screaming and panicking.


Keith is like all *internal screaming* while Lance is more of the external screaming type like 


  • Lance freaking out bc instead of avoiding Keith’s extremely cute annoying face, he’s forced to see it in the mirror for however long they’re stuck like this
    • “Hunk….I can’t do this…”
    • “Don’t worry, Lance, we’ll figure out how to get you two back into your own bodies soon enough.”
  • him being extremely dramatic about it
    • “i cant do this”
    • “youre being dramatic”
    • “I have a mullet i think im entitled”


  • Keith can’t stop rubbing Lance’s his face like i gotta get me some of these skin care products bc holy shit?? so soft?? 
    • “Pidge touch my face”
    • “what???? no ew gross?”
    • “its soft pidge.  so soft.  i cant stop TOUCHING HIS FACE”
    • “dude stop”
    • “so soft”
  • He is also completely obsessed with Lance’s eyes like
    • “Pidge his eyes”
    • “he has them, yes im aware”
    • “nononno have u ever noticed how BLUE they are??”
    • “that would be his eye color yes”
    • “but theyre so blue?? illegal.  not fair.”

oscarwildeiswild  asked:

Hey!!! I reallyyyy love your writing it's so cute and I just really like it!!❤️I was wondering if you could write one where dracos rly eccentric/weird and he's really funny to be around but everyone's like ://?? But harry finds it rly cute!!! Thankssss xxx

Thank you so much, sweetie!! ❤️️ Maybe you already forgot you sent me that ask because it took me sooooo looooong to answer it lol. I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind but maybe you’ll still like it? Anyway, thank you so much for sending me that prompt :) I had loads of fun with it :) ❤️️

“No, no, not this one!”

Harry watched as his flatmate rushed over to the kitchen cabinet and wrenched the mug Blaise was holding out of his hands.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow. Draco bit his lip, while cradling the mug like it was his most prized possession.

“You just can’t use this one, okay?” he snapped. “What if you break it?”

Harry silently sipped his tea as the two Slytherins in his kitchen started bickering.

”No, not that one either!”

It wasn’t exactly unusual behaviour. And Harry was used to it by now. He and Draco had been flatmates for over a year and Draco always seemed a bit touchy about his things. Curiously enough, he never snapped at Harry about it. Only at his friends. And Harry’s friends.

“You’re being a brat, Draco,” Blaise muttered. “I just want some tea but apparently that is too much to ask.”

“Here, you can take this one,” Draco announced, pointing to the only mug left in the cabinet. “I don’t care much for that one anyway.”

“Hey! I gave you that one!” Pansy entered the kitchen with a scowl on her face. Draco just shrugged, flicked his wand once to set the kettle on the stove and to send the mugs flying back into the cabinet.

“You’re spoiling him,” Blaise said to Harry, sitting down at the table opposite of him.

“What? What do I have to do with any of this?” Harry protested.

“You’re spoiling him,” Blaise repeated. “You’re allowing this… this behaviour.”

“Allowing?” Harry echoed. “Excuse me, but what exactly do you think we are doing here? We’re just flatmates. I’m not the boss of him.”

“He most certainly isn’t,” Draco chimed in, plopping down on the chair next to Harry.

“Right,” Pansy snorted. “Say, Potter, have you fought with Draco since you moved in together? I mean a real, full-on fight .”

Harry thought about it for a second, an obvious ‘Yes’ on the tip of his tongue. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised they hadn’t had a big fight at all. Sure, they had argued about a few things here and there but it had been nothing like their fights in school.

Pansy seemed to take Harry’s silence as the answer she had been expecting and smirked.

“See? You have Draco wrapped around your little finger,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Pansy, will you shut up?” Draco growled. “That is preposterous.”

“Oh, is it?” Blaise grinned.

Draco ignored him and went over to the stove to prepare their tea. While the blond was out of earshot, Blaise leaned closer to Harry.

“You really shouldn’t encourage his OCD.”

“OCD?” Harry’s eyes widened.


“I know what it means,” Harry interrupted Pansy. “Draco doesn’t have OCD.”

Pansy and Blaise exchanged meaningful looks before turning their attention back to Harry.

“You can’t deny he’s totally obsessed with you,” Pansy smirked.

“And you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how he freaks out whenever something isn’t in the place he’s intended it to,” Blaise remarked.

Harry frowned, not sure he had noticed.

“You really are thick, Potter,” Blaise sighed. He looked around the room until he spotted something on the shelf. With one nod of his head, the clock he had fixed his eyes on flew across the room and landed on one of the windowsills. Grinning to himself, Blaise leaned back in his seat and winked at Harry.

“Now just wait and observe.”

“He’s not going to freak out,” Harry insisted.

He watched Draco closely as he returned to the table, levitating three mugs in front of him. When Blaise made a grab for the dark red one, Draco slapped his hand away.

“I told you, not that one. That’s mine.”

Blaise rolled his eyes and took the white one, hovering beside his head.

“What’s so special about the red one?” he muttered darkly.

“I bought that a month after we moved here. It makes me think of Ha-” Draco stopped abruptly, his body going rigid. “Um… Halloween! It makes me think of Halloween!”

Blaise and Pansy started snickering, elbowing each other. Harry wasn’t sure what was going on.

“Yeah, of course it would have such a special meaning to you, if it reminds you of Ha-lloween,” Blaise said teasingly.

Draco quickly looked away, wrinkling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, Blaise, you- Hey! What is the clock doing on the windowsill? That’s not where it’s supposed to be!” He whirled around in his seat. “Which one of you two did it?” he said, zeroing in on his Slytherin friends.

“What makes you think we did it?” Pansy said, her tone as sweet as sugar.

“Harry would never do something like that,” Draco announced decisively. Harry blinked at that.

“Never mind who did it,” Blaise said with a dismissive gesture. “The question is, can you leave it there? I bet you can’t.”

Draco bit his lip. Harry saw that his right hand was twitching. He obviously didn’t want to leave it there but he probably wanted to prove to Blaise that he was wrong.

“Come on, stop being so childish,” Harry murmured to Blaise and levitated the clock back to its original place on the shelf. Draco let out a little sigh of relief and gave Harry a grateful look.

“See, Blaise, this is why he’s my flatmate, not you,” Draco snapped.

“Sure, that’s the only reason,” Blaise snorted. His eyes wandered over to Harry, scrutinising him. “I really have no idea how you put up with him.”

Harry barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“He’s a great flatmate. It’s always clean, I never have to worry about the fridge being empty, he always makes sure I have my favourite tea… One time, he yelled at a salesperson because they didn’t have it in stock.” Harry chuckled to himself while Draco slid down in his seat, looking slightly embarrassed. “I thought it was rather sweet. I mean, sure he has a few quirks. He always insists I use the blanket he got for me when I’m on the sofa, although we have, like, five. But I don’t mind. It’s a nice blanket. It has little Snitches on it. Sometimes he massages my shoulders, but he never lets me reciprocate. I keep telling him I’m not as clumsy as I was in school but I guess he doesn’t believe me.”

Harry was so lost in thought, he didn’t notice the raised eyebrows, the looks the Slytherins were giving him or the way Draco had turned beet red.

“Oh, and I have to be at home on Thursdays by seven o’clock, because he cooks dinner and doesn’t like it when I’m late. But, I mean, the one time I was late was only because there were so many people in the pastry shop when I wanted to pick up these little cupcakes Draco likes so much.” When Harry’s words were only met with silence, he finally looked up and realised he had been babbling. “Oh, I’m sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean to-”

“So,” Pansy said, drumming her perfectly manicured fingers on the table. “How long have you two been secretly dating? And why didn’t you tell us?”  

Harry’s mouth fell open as he gaped at Pansy.

“What?” he spluttered.

“We’re not dating,” Draco muttered darkly. “If we were dating, we would be kissing and… stuff.”

This time, Harry didn’t miss the undertone in Draco’s voice, although he wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret it.

“Do you want us to kiss and… stuff?”

The kitchen went completely silent as three pairs of eyes fixed on Draco, who kept staring at the mug in his hands.

“I… um… Well, I guess I wouldn’t be completely… Um, that is to say, I-”

“Hold on, is that why you wouldn’t come out of your room for a week, after I told you about that date I had with a Muggle a few months ago?”

Draco didn’t answer but kept staring at his mug.

“Oh, is that why you haven’t been dating at all while we have been living together?” Harry thought about other signs there might have been that hadn’t seemed strange at the time. Wait, there was one thing that had seemed very strange. “Oh my God, is that why all the towels seem to magically disappear from time to time when I come out of the shower?”

Draco let his head fall back and made a strangled noise, while Blaise and Pansy keeled over with laughter.

Harry ignored them and got out of his seat, never taking his eyes off Draco. He pulled the Slytherin into a standing position in front of him and gently cupped his cheek.

“Won’t you look at me?” Harry whispered. Draco’s eyes darted up to his, glimmering with apprehension. Harry stepped closer until their chests were touching, placing his other hand on Draco’s hip. “I guess we kind of have been dating for a while, haven’t we? I just didn’t realise.”

Draco shivered under Harry’s touch and tentatively brought his hands up to Harry’s shoulders.

“You never were the most observant type,” he murmured, his eyes flickering over Harry’s face. A smile tugged on the corner of Harry’s mouth as he leaned forward. He unconsciously held his breath as he let his lips brush over Draco’s, savouring the warmth and the silky feeling of his mouth. He barely noticed the loud cheers and wolf-whistles behind him.

“Hmmm, I guess I finally understand your obsession with lip balm,” Harry breathed amusedly. He stroked Draco’s cheek with his thumb and brought their foreheads together, suddenly feeling really dizzy.

“You know, I have an obsession with really, really soft and comfortable beds as well,” Draco said, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning in to kiss Harry once more.

When they broke apart several minutes later, Harry’s heart skipped a beat and he was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful. The way Draco was looking at him almost made him topple over. This was how he wanted Draco to look at him from now on, with the biggest smile on his face Harry had ever seen.    


klance || truth or dare || 6.5k || nsfw

The paladins introduce Allura to the age-old Earthling game of truth or dare. Keith shares unwelcome knowledge about his sex habits. Hunk may or may not eat a sock. Somehow, sexual tension and relief ensues. Also, there are jokes.

i apologize for the memes, but be aware, it’s about 80% jokes, 20% smut

>> READ ON AO3 <<

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Originally posted by 5sospicturesque

word count: 1.7k 

warnings: swearing

summary: your eye color matches your soulmates hair color and you were beginning to get annoyed that yours kept changing.

(a/n) I read this idea on a soulmate idea thing but I can’t find it so if you do send it to me so I can give credit :) also i hate this but I’ve always wanted to write a soulmate au so yeah

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Still in Love

Hi! Hope you’ll enjoy this short one shot. It’s a request based on the song “Somebody that I used to know” by Gotye. It’s only loosely inspired by it though, the song is despite its lyrics rather upbeat while I imagine this story to be set in a sadder atmosphere. 

Plot: H and Y/N used to have a bond until they cut each other out of their lives.

Warnings: None.

Gorgeous picture isn’t mine.

Harry found himself unable to look away. All his eyes could see was me, just as if my frame was the magnet to his attention. It was as though I wasn’t surrounded by a mass of people in a barely lit room and thick, humid air. His gaze was only drawn to me because to him I was illuminated. The air around me glowed. I might as well have stood in an empty room or lain in his bed, his attention couldn’t have been on me any more.

Harry’s jaw tensed. The sweet taste of the soft-drink on his tongue and the loud music blasted through the big speakers would normally have his shoulders relaxed and his body moving along to the rhythm. He would be enjoying his night out with friends and colleagues. But this time he couldn’t.
If anything Harry hadn’t ever been this tense whilst partying before. The tips of his fingers twitched, his lips were raw from his teeth pulling and biting into them and his hair was a mess.

All of which he truly could not understand.
How was Harry’s mind so incapable of finding an escape from the worry and slight fear his body was tormented with? Ever since he’d noticed me singing along to the music and laughing with my head thrown back and dancing in the middle of the floor, his blood had turned to ice and his skin heated.
His eyes followed the movements of my hips swinging, feet jumping and arms raising. The tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth when he noticed my exposed neck and collarbones and his skin prickled.
Harry’s stomach turned with guilt because he really shouldn’t be giving me that kind of attention. I wasn’t his after all. Not even as a friend. Nothing.

Still, if only to make sure I was fine, his pupils continued to follow my every move and they narrowed when he noticed me stumble a little, losing my balance momentarily. It seemed as though I’d had one if not many drinks too much. He moved to get up and come to my aid before his head had even caught up with it to consciously make that decision and before it could tell him not to move.
Harry didn’t know me. Not anymore, for the matter and it was no longer his job to come to my protection either.

And still, his hands reached out to carefully nudge people out of his way and his big feet moved quickly and steady in order to reach me faster. Harry was impatient and he couldn’t have said why.
One of his friends even made the effort to call after him, truly surprised at his sudden movements, but went silent the moment he noticed who it was Harry’s gaze had found. He knew Harry hadn’t heard him, knew there was no reaching him where his head had gone.

There had once been a time when Harry and I would lose ourselves in the other. When the whole room could feel our connection as though an electric energy was caused by it. The house could have erupted into flames, the room flooded by water or the earth broken open - we wouldn’t have noticed. Not when our fingers touched the others skin, if only momentarily. We would have eyes only for the other, words meant for no one else to hear and in truth Harry missed it as much as I longed for those times to come back.

I turned around when I heard him say my name for the first time in over a year. My blood was frozen, my skin light on fire and my heart flattered in my chest as if it tried to fly away. In my hurry and desperation to see him I lost my balance once more and stumbled into his chest rather forcefully. My stomach dropped at the sight of his beautiful features and a smile forced itself onto my lips.

Harry. He visibly hadn’t changed at all and lost nothing of his beauty.

“Harry.” My voice was shaking but fierce, with no doubt in its tone at all.

He chuckled quietly with the softest smile on his face while his hands found my rips to rest on hesitantly. Though his hold was firm, it was a gesture meant to steady me, keep me from falling and getting hurt, but oh if it didn’t weaken my knees even further. And I fell. Metaphorically speaking.

“Hi,” he hummed, his face leant in so his lips were near my ear. I shuddered when his warm breath fanned my skin. His hands brought me closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I replied cheerfully, my arms raising to rest on top of his shoulders with a wide smile. The embarrassment I felt when my voice broke was over quickly and though Harry’s smile told me he’d noticed, it was alright. The kind expression he wore and the alcohol numbing my brain were relaxing me enough to not blush at the uncommon closeness between us.

Maybe the lack of a barrier between us had become something unfamiliar, but when my fingers found the back of his neck and his soft curls to play with, I felt at home. He was truly here, in my arms. The softness of his strands was too addictive to let go of again. I normally wouldn’t have ever dared to be handsy with him, which of course didn’t mean that I didn’t long to be. Touching your ex’s hair and embracing his shoulders after not having seen him in 14 months wasn’t exactly what was considered a great idea, was it?

But Harry wasn’t really any ex. We’d never been an exclusive couple, never went on a date or got around to be introduced to parents. Harry and I were… in the lack of a better word Friends with benefits. It started one night mostly as a half drunken mistake and then continued until our relationship had transformed into something more. We’d hook up occasionally when we were in need for relief, then when we were in need of a shoulder to lean on and then when we were in need to be near each other. Our feelings for each other heightened and grew in strength until when we were in public and somebody asked what we were, neither of us knew what to say anymore. The term friends didn’t suffice, fuck-buddies sounded too meaningless.
So we avoided a label all together which was what had brought us to an end.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, trying to adapt a neutral tone. My brows knitted together and I observed his face closely, wanting to be sure he wouldn’t lie. Harry didn’t drink often, hardly ever got properly drunk. I feared he’d changed since we’d last spoken.

Harry nodded though his gaze darkened. Instinctively my hold on his locks tightened in fear he’d pull away.

“I’m good,” Harry muttered, coming closer once more so he could talk into my ear, “But I’ll be even better if you let me take you home.”

My stomach dropped and I let out a shocked gasp. He flinched when I shifted, almost tumbling once more and frowned at me trying to pull away.

“You sure are forward, aren’t you,” I joked half heartily, my voice doing a poor job at covering up the surprise.

Harry’s eyes widened, his head catching up to what he’d said.

“S'not what I mean!” Harry stressed, “M'not trying- Y/N you know m'not that sleazy. Was a stupid way of phrasing and-”

“Harry,” I laughed, “I know. Didn’t sound like you for a minute so I know you didn’t intend it.”

My hands ran down his shoulders and squeezed his arms. “But why do you want me to come with you?

The green of his orbs sparkled and my gaze dropped to the pink of his pillow lips. "Because I really miss you.”


His room looked nothing like I remembered. And that saddened me. The soft blue colored sheets, sheets I’d loved to sleep in due to their unbelievable softness had been replaced by plain white ones. Where once the stacks of books we used to read in to one another before falling asleep had been on his nightstand, was now a quartet of scented candles. I frowned and stepped closer. I’d kept up with what he’d been up to and had only rolled my eyes at his newly discovered obsession with candles, but now that I stood right in front of four my fingers twitched.

Orange. Lavender. Hibiscus. Almond.

“Is water okay? I can make you a tea if you want. Think I even got your favorite somewhere.”

Harry stood in the doorway, watching me with a mixed expression I found difficult to read. But I understood. It must have looked as strange to him as it felt for me, given that the last time I’d been in this exact bedroom we’d both been crying our hearts out.

“Water is fine,” I replied with a hesitant smile, “Thank you.”

His feet were slow when he approached me and the invitation to sit on his bed was spoked low. Any confidence Harry had shown back in the bar was lost, just like my bravery was wearing off with the remains of alcohol leaving my system. The more I sobered up, the stranger the whole situation became to me.

“Please, don’t get sick,” Harry requested quietly, whilst helping me sit down on his bed. I could only assume he was reading my pale cheeks and discomfort as a sign of too much alcohol in my blood. “Got new sheets.”

“I noticed.” The disappointment was evident in my voice and I forced a smile to cover it up, “And I’m alright.”

Why were the sheets gone? It was silly to feel nostalgic about them, but why hadn’t he kept the material we’d spent hours of sleeping under? Where we’d made plans, confessed dreams and caused giggles to fill the room? Had he thrown them away just like that and replaced them by silly blue ones? How could he?

“Where are they?”

“Who?” his face wore an expression of pure confusion.

I let my fingers touch the top of his mattress. It felt wrong. Not even half as soft as it used to be. “The sheets.”

Harry didn’t reply which was answer enough. I hissed and shook my head. My heart was heavy with a sudden sadness I couldn’t explain and knew was stupid. There was no reason for me to feel crushed over the loss of some blue material I hadn’t lain on in a long time. He’d made a decision I had no place being angry about.

Sensing my crushed feelings Harry shifted beside me, his arms ached to reach out and embrace me but his mind burned with questions he needed answers for.

“Why didn’t you ever call, Y/N?”

We weren’t avoiding the awkwardness, then. We wouldn’t dance around the uncomfortable feelings. My chest moved and my lungs filled with fresh air. One thing I appreciated about Harry was his bravery, one I never possessed. He wasn’t afraid of tackling the difficult conversations.

“I can’t remember how many nights I stayed up staring at my phone with hopes I could never fully let go of.”

“I needed space,” I explained weakly, “Needed to clear my head.”

We sat so close next to each other his knee brushed mine and though it was only a small touch, my eyes could not look away from it. His body heat easily radiated off of me, awakening every cell of my body and speeding up the rhythm of my heart. I wanted more, wanted to be reminded what it felt like to hold him right.

“Clear it from me?” Harry’s quiet voice was laced with sadness, “You shut me out of your life. As if you tried to make it like I’d never touched it.”

Contradicting his words, Harry’s hand found my thigh, giving it an entirely non sexual squeeze, one that let me know he wasn’t angry. My hand pressed on top of his and I looked up to meet his eyes.

“You know what I felt for you, Harry.”

He nodded. “Which is just why I don’t understand.”

It’d been him who’d broken us off. Well, whatever “us” had meant. His solo career had been in its beginnings and he knew he’d need to be free to travel for it, work an impossible amount of hours and be available to anyone always. Anyone, aside form me.

Going solo meant he was busy and that meant that any feelings for him I had developed, did not have any place.
Harry cared for me, wanted me and desired to keep me close, but at the same time he knew that if he let us strengthen our bond even more, we would eventually suffer a heart break. Our connection wasn’t meant to be, not at that time anyway.

“I began to miss you so terribly the moment you closed the door behind you,” I breathed.

Watching him walk out of my apartment was a sight I knew I’d never forget. No matter how many promises of keeping in touch, staying friends and wanting to remain close had been made, I was sure we both knew they were void of true meaning.

Harry had touched my heart. How could I look into his eyes after having been rejected?

I whimpered when his body turned to face mine and shuddered when his hand fount my neck, gently turning my head so I looked up at him.
Harry’s brows were knitted together while his eyes pleaded with mine. My lips parted and my head spun when my own palms found their place on his shoulders, only centimeters away from his collarbones. I yearned to touch his skin.

“But that doesn’t mean you had to cut me off like that,” he whispered.

“Your fear of perhaps not having enough time for me didn’t mean you had to deny us any chance either,” I countered, arching one eyebrow at him.

Relief overcame me when a smile pulled at the corner of his lips and I felt some of the tension in the room shift. “That is true, I suppose.”

His thumb gently caressed the skin of my cheek before trailing along my jaw. Harry shook his lovely head, making his slightly disheveled hair fall into his face. “And both happened despite that I loved you.”

There it was again. The buzz in the air. I moved further up to sit in a crossed legged position across from him, both of my hands still pressed flat to his chest and his eyes closed when the tips of my fingers dared finding the unbuttoned part of his shirt where his warm skin was accessible.

I hummed, a shy smile on my lips.

“You know,” I began in a whisper, “your choice of candles lets me hope there is no past tense to your feelings.”

His nose brushed my cheek and his mouth kissed my shoulder.

My voice shook as I went on: “They are, after all, the scent of the cookies I always made for you, the soap of mine you used to hate and the oil I used to massage your shoulders with when you were stressed.”

A low moan fell from his mouth at the memory and my eyes fell shut.

“And what’s the last scent for?” he asked.

My body was pushed back to lie flat on his mattress and I welcomed him with open arms who finally got to hold him tight again.

“It’s the smell of my hair,” I whispered into the shell of his ear, whimpering when his lips pressed warm kisses to the bare exposed skin of my collarbones. “My shampoo.”

“Maybe s'not in the past tense then,” Harry murmured, grunting when my legs found the familiar place around his hips, “Maybe I still love you.”

“That would be nice,” I gasped when he pressed himself closer against my skin and wanted to cry because it still wasn’t enough.

“Would it?”

“Yes,” my hold tightened, “because I’m as in love with you as I was the day I told you for the first time.”

Hope you liked it! It’s the first story I posted since being officially 19! Ahh!! Love everyone of you who reads my stories, your support means so much. Thank you.

Rest of my stories: 



Benny x Reader

Requested by Anon

“Are you filming Ethan or (Y/N)?” Rory asked as Benny lost track of what he was doing as he stared at you.

“Ethan… why would I film (Y/N)?” Benny scoffed.

“Because you’re in love with her, well you’re obsessed with her.” Rory retorted, rolling his eyes as he sighed.

“I am not I just think she’s cute that’s all.” Benny shook his head, almost dropping the camera as you waved at him.

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anonymous asked:

sTeReK 15?

Sterek, The Way You Said “I Love You”

#15 Loud, so everyone can hear

“Because I love you!” Stiles shouts, and then immediately sucks in a hard breath, eyes bulging wide in horror and disbelief. Did he really just…

Derek’s own eyes go wide as well, though the rest of his face remains carefully frozen. Scott looks like he swallowed a bug. So yep, Stiles really just. He did that. In front of basically everyone he knows.

“I mean.” He starts and stops. His dad’s got an unimpressed eyebrow raised in his direction. Cora looks like she’s fighting back mean laughter. This is not the direction any of them probably expected this newest argument between Stiles and Derek to go, but none of them seem exactly shocked by it. 

Except for Derek.

“Okay, so.” Stiles shakes it off and launches back in on the topic at hand. “Tabling that embarrassing outburst for the time being, I’m still right and Derek still shouldn’t be the one who plays bait for this asshole.”

“Why, because you just can’t bear to live without him?” Isaac smirks, rolling his eyes.

Stiles grits his teeth and digs his fingers into his thighs to keep from punching the douchebag. “Because the warlock is expecting it. We need the element of surprise on our side here, and Derek playing martyr yet again won’t give us that.”

The group easily falls back into battle planning mode then, and even if they don’t necessarily forget Stiles’ heated confession, they’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment and they all know it. Derek included, who shakes his head minutely when Stiles starts talking, and then pipes up with an idea for a new plan as though nothing ever happened. 

Stiles is outwardly grateful for Derek’s composure, but internally bereft. He can feel a hollow point in the center of his chest appear and slowly grow.

Later, when the blood has been shed, and the bad guy has been slain, and Scott is offering up his Hallmark card platitudes to those who need it as they shuffle their way towards a shower and a bed. Later, when they’ve all somehow survived another life-or-death go around with another big bad and don’t have the energy to wonder if the next one will finally be their last one…

Later. Derek falls into step beside Stiles, and asks, without looking at him, “Did you mean it?”

Stiles rolls his shoulders and stuffs his hands firmly into his pockets. He lets his eyes obsess over the grooves in the battered blacktop they’re walking across to get to their respective vehicles. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Derek.”

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with me in the middle of a fight then.”

Stiles stops walking and turns on him, throwing his arms out into the air uselessly. “Fine! Shit. I’m sorry, alright? What do you want from me?”

Derek purses his lips thoughtfully for a moment. Then bites down on the tiniest of smiles and steps forward, into Stiles’ personal space. “I just wish I had been brave enough to say it first is all.”

Stiles blinks. Forgets how to breathe. Blinks again. “Wait. What?”

Derek shrugs one shoulder and pretends to study his shoes while unsubtly inching even closer. “I’m just saying. We should probably take turns with the romantic declarations, or I’ll never actually get the chance to tell you I love you too.”

Either Stiles passed out at some point or this is a very crass prank. 

But Derek takes his hand then and holds it like it’s sacred. Like it’s normal

“Holy shit, pinch me,” Stiles whispers.

Derek winks, and looks like a complete dork while he does it. “Maybe later.”

Stiles has never been more in love with him.

Imagine you're a dancer Part 1

You looked yourself over in the mirror, checking for anything that was out of place. Only a few minutes remained before the leader of your little troupe would come in and tell you that it was time. You glanced to your right. The newest girl had joined less than a year ago, but she had managed to come into her own.

You turned back to your reflection. It had been a few years since you first started, but your experience was an advantage. You knew that trying to earn money on the side was a pointless endeavor. Many of your former coworkers thought that sitting on laps and pulling man into private rooms would only come with tips. Every single one of them ended up pregnant and fired from the company. Your leader only had one rule; anyone that couldn’t do their job would be fired. Otherwise, everyone was able to do as they pleased. It was quite a lucrative career when you were one of the favourite dancers.

“Alright, ladies,” Your boss, a short and plump woman, clapped her hands. She waited until the room was quiet and all eyes were on her to continue, “This night is important to us. We are performing for one of the most exclusive parties in the city. Everyone needs to bring their best. I normally don’t encourage this, but feel free to make friends.”

You fought the urge to scowl. So she was openly endorsing fraternizing with the audience in order to earn more money. You couldn’t help but wonder if she was getting greedy and wanted a cut of the profit.

“Let’s go.”

You got up, walking with the other women. The sheer material you wore fluttered behind you. The gold discs on your waist and trailing down your hips clinked against each other. The newest dancer was whispering nervously to yourself. You didn’t get nervous anymore. You just did your job and then took your payment at the end of the night.

The small party was held in a room lit by candles. Most guests had a glass in their hands, though you could tell that some of them had been drinking for hours. Without looking directly at them, you made a mental note of each man you should avoid as soon as the party ended. It was a common occurrence for one or two men to follow a dancer as they left in order to get a bit of private time with them.

You positioned yourself on the left-hand side of the small stage, waiting for the music to start. The more eager girls took the front. You almost scoffed. Some thought that they were going to become famous if the right person saw them dancing. Others merely wanted more money by taking the spotlight. It didn’t matter to you. Every dancer was paid the same amount at the end of the night. Tips were just a perk of the trade. You saved enough money doing what you did best.

The first note broke your spell. You began to dance, hips rolling and arms moving slowly and gracefully. Intricate steps weren’t necessary. All you needed was the right pace and angles to drive men wild. Your gaze remained on the back wall, your expression lustful to no one in particular.

As the night continued, you became aware of a stare that weighed heavily on your body. It had persisted, even as some of your fellow dancers went out into the crowd. You used your peripheral vision to try to find who was so interested in you. Even after so many years, you hated looking at your audience.

The man in question was sitting the furthest from the stage, a glass of something dark in his hand. None of the servers approached him to refill his glass. He seemed to be languidly sipping the same drink for the entire night. He was older than you, his temples dusted with grey, though the rest of his hair was dark. His body was lean, carrying a certain power as he crossed one leg over the other. A quiet confidence. Well, he was certainly better than other men that had been obsessed with you.

You glanced to his face. He was rather handsome, admittedly. His eyes were-

Even as you blinked, you found it impossible to tear your gaze away from his. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The sound nearly drowned out the music. The candles seemed dimmer now, like the room itself had sensed something changing.

You moved to the front of the stage, descending the small set of stairs that separated you from the rest of the party. Each step caused the golden discs on your outfit to rattle softly, though you could barely hear it. The unoccupied men in the front row moved their hands away from their laps, thinking that you were going to dance on them. You walked right by, your eyes still locked onto the man furthest from the stage. The audience was rather small, so he was sitting in the middle of the room. The way he sat made you wonder if he owned the building you were standing in. He looked like he owned the entire city, actually. With the way he was looking at you, it felt like he had already bought your soul and was simply collecting what was rightfully his.

You stopped in front of him, hips swaying as you continued to dance. Your hands trailed over your body, missing the important places by mere inches. Teasing was a part of the job, after all. You could feel other members of the audience staring at you, but you paid no attention to them. You were still focused on the man taking another sip from his drink, his eyes trailing up and down your body.

He set his drink down on the table next to him, licking his lips slowly. He uncrossed his legs. An invitation. Going against everything you believed in, you accepted it. You straddled him, knees pressed against the wood on either side of his hips. His hand immediately moved to your back, resting gently on your skin. You could feel the metal rings he wore, a bit cold compared to the temperature of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders in order to keep yourself steady as you rolled your hips.

He said nothing. His expression was neutral, but you could see something lurking in his eyes. Something dark. He merely allowed you to continue, his hand pulling you just a bit closer.

What were you doing? You never did this. You hadn’t touched a member of the audience in all of your years as a part of the troupe, and now you were on some man’s lap. But it could ruin things if you got off of him now. You would have to wait until he grew tired of you or the performance ended. Then you would have every reason to fluidly slip from his chair and return to the room saved for the dancers.

He tilted his head to one side. You kissed him, hands trailing down his chest. The softness of the material beneath your fingertips told you that his clothes were expensive. At the very least, he had some sort of title. Even as you withdrew from the kiss, you wondered why you had done such a thing. Kissing a member of the audience was frowned upon by most dancers. On any other day, your boss would have given you an earful. But with such rich clients, she was making an exception.

His hands slipped between your bodies, trailing down your stomach before settling between your legs. He stroked you through your smallclothes, causing your spine to arch a bit and your fingers to clutch his clothes. Your hands descended, blindly unbuckling his belt and moving his trousers just enough to free his cock. You were still focused on his eyes as your hands returned to his shoulders. He pulled your smallclothes to one side, exposing you to the cold air. You couldn’t help but shiver. His other hand grabbed his cock, rubbing it against you.

You pulled yourself closer, biting your lip as it began to push into you. He let go, his palm on your back. He guided your waist. You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from making noise as he filled you. No one in the crowd reacted. Your clothes hid everything. The only people aware of what was truly happening were you and the man you were straddling. You moved with the music, arms trailing through the air. To everyone else, it looked like you were just dancing on his lap.

Your breath hitched as you continued. He leaned back in the chair, watching you move. His eyes strayed from yours for a moment, trailing down your body. Your pace slowed. Why were you doing this? You were supposed to be dancing on stage, not having sex with him.

His eyes snapped back up to meet yours, teeth bared in a low growl that rumbled against your chest. He was getting close. His grip on your waist was almost bruising. Your hands were almost glued to his shoulders. You can’t fathom letting him go. Not when he made you feel this good. It didn’t matter if he came inside of you. You just wanted a bit more time with him. Just a few more seconds of feeling his body against yours.

An unfamiliar warmth pooled inside of you. You kept moving, even as your walls twitched around him. He leaned toward you, his lips and teeth tracing over your neck. You bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound. You couldn’t get caught. Not now. A familiar melody played. The last song of the night.

He pulled your body from his, adjusting his pants and your smallclothes. You could feel droplets of liquid running down your thighs. You would have to be careful when walking back to the dressing room. His attention shifted to his glass, lifting it and taking a slow sip.

Your mind was still fogged from the sex as you stood and slowly danced your way back to the dressing room with the other dancers.

Your mind had cleared completely in days, so you realized quickly that your performance that night had consequences.

At first, you had thought that you had contracted some sort of illness. Nausea plagued you. You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t dance. You remained in the dressing room, shivering as you tried to will away your nausea.

Within a few moons, you knew that something was wrong.

You sat on your bed. Given your reputation in the company, you were allowed to have your own room. You were thankful for it now that your body had changed. Your stomach had only a gentle swell at first, but now the weight rested on your thighs. None of your companions had noticed, but you knew that it would become obvious with time.

It seemed that your luck hadn’t run out yet. A new dancer had joined, which caused your boss to give you some time off while she was trained in the ways of the troupe. You took the temporary vacation graciously, but it didn’t solve your problem.

Your stomach fluttered. You tensed, still not used to the sensation. You cautiously pressed your palm to your belly. It was too late to visit a physiker. A witch would only cause you problems. You couldn’t stay with the company. Once they discovered your pregnancy, you would be fired. They couldn’t afford to pay dancers that couldn’t dance. They certainly didn’t want to deal with a fussy child during their performances.

You steeled yourself. You decided to leave the company without a word. You had enough money saved up that you would be able to rent a small room at a cheap inn until you could rejoin another dancing troupe. As for your child, you were sure that you could find someone more than capable of caring for them. You didn’t have the funds or the time. Your profession required all of your attention, especially if you were doing solo work for a few months.

You packed up your things and left. A small town would be the best option, which meant a short trip by horse. You found one of the main streets. It was rather dark, even with the many hanging lamps. There were some narrow alleyways, but you better than to get too close, lest you be robbed at knifepoint. Given the money you were carrying, you need to stick to the crowds while keeping an eye on your coin purse. But the early hours of the morning were approaching. The crowds were dying down considerably.

After walking through the main square, it became apparent that no one had a horse for sale. You would have to renew your efforts in the morning. You stopped, trying to remember the location of the nearest inn. Your stomach fluttered once more, harder this time. You winced. You doubted that you would ever grow accustomed to such a sensation.

A gentle creak alerted you to one of the alleyways. A sign was hanging from the wall. An inn. Your attention shifted to the alley itself. There was a bend in the path. Someone could be lingering around the corner. Your gaze fell to the ground. There were hanging lights in the alleyway, leaving the shadows of the brick and other signs. Even as you cautiously drew closer, the shadows gave no hint at someone lurking.

You strode toward the inn, becoming confident that you wouldn’t be attacked. You looked down the branching path. There was nothing there. You smiled a bit. It seemed you would make it to the inn unscathed.

You paid for a room, then trudged up the stairs. The added weight to your womb made it a bit more difficult, but you managed. You locked the door and took a deep breath. Your journey seemed to be going smoothly.

“I’ve been looking for you, pet.”

You whirled around to face the rest of the room. A man was standing in front of the window. He took a step forward. Your blood ran cold.

It was the man from that fateful night. Even as he moved closer, the room was bathed in moonlight. Something was wrong with him.

You reached back to unlock the door, only for your hand to freeze. You had made eye contact with him, your body no longer obeying your commands. Your fingertips were touching the lock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move it. Despite the fear in your mind, your body relaxed.

His attention strayed to your stomach before he ensnared you with his gaze once more. He was standing before you now. His hand reached past you, something on the door snapping. When he withdrew, he was holding the lock’s latch. He had broken it with strength alone. He crumpled the latch in his fist, “A good pet doesn’t leave her master, _____. Especially when she’s carrying her master’s child.”

Wait, when had he-

“Now, you’re going to dance for me.”

“I-I…” It seemed you still talk this time, “I don’t-“

His eyes darkened, your mind instantly fogging, “Take off your dress.”

Author’s Note: Hello! Keira Metz here! This is a bit of a slow start, but I promise much more dark romance to come!