Edward Bluemel Eyes Novels & Stories

Then, she looked at the eyes of the handsome guy in the photo, and then looked at Edward's eyes that he had deliberately drawn two eyeliners before he came over, resulting in eyes that were not as delicate as before. In contrast, August subconsciously slapped her forehead. Her male god's eyes are so good-looking, she can even recognize the mistake! It shouldn't, it really shouldn't! "Who is it? Tell me who he is! August's eyes lit up, trying to restrain her volume. "Do you think my eyes resemble his?" Edward asked. "Uh-huh." August nodded like a chick pecking rice. "The person in the picture is my brother." The old god Edward is in the tunnel.

Normal. But my thoughts keep slipping—derailing completely—because how is it possible for someone’s eyes to look like THAT? His are absolutely stunning. Too stunning for a man who’s currently scolding me for starving myself. Big and impossibly blue, like the kind of blue you only ever see in postcards or impossibly clear skies. Calm, sharp, and unsettlingly gentle all at once. They hold my gaze without effort, without blinking, like he’s used to people looking away first.

Tobias, Elaine, Lunaya, all of our fighters growled and moved in closer, ready to attack. “Stop, stop” I screamed at them all and waved them back away. I whipped around to the man on the ground. He was staring up at me with so much fear on his face. His blond hair had a tinge of red through it. His pale skin was dirty and covered in bloody grazes and fresh bruises. He was thin, strong looking, but still quite slim. Above all, he had the most haunting blue eyes. Gunner’s eyes are like pools of crystal blue water, this Weres eyes however were so clear and so blue I imagine I could see my reflection clearly in his iris. I was caught in place, struck by the brilliance of his eyes. I blinked a fe

"I came for the festivities, I guess." "This is the party of the year and you don't sound enthusiastic at all," he chuckles. I glance at him before saying in response, "I guess I'm not really into any of this." The bartender slides him his drink, and he watches me while drinking. There's something about his eyes that I don't like at all. I don't like how he's looking at me. This man, Blaine, is fairly handsome. His hair is pitch black, darker than Roman's, and his eyes are a piercing blue. He looks like a husky, if that makes sense.

Here he was, My blue eyes Hero 'Cameron Black' with a headset blocking his ears. He was dancing and popping to music while stabbing an already dead man with a knife like a maniac. The grin on his handsome face is monstrous. I have to get out of here! I take slow steps backwards. I couldn't afford to… My hips hit the centre table. The full glass close to the edge of the table shakes slightly. It's liquid splashes on the floor as it tumbles down shattering into pieces. His bloody hands move up, taking his headset off, his dashing face turns to face me. His blue eyes stares at me, the innocence in them like that of a newborn baby's first gaze at the world.

Hearing your thoughts and seeing what you can see… What's the difference? I did not reply. I merely showed her what the difference was. In front of Snowie's stunned gaze, I thrust my finger into my right eye and forcibly plucked my eyeball out. Of course, there would not be blood or gore. After all, my right eye was a prosthetic.

You know when your mind sees something that is so utterly beautiful, so unworldly that it distinctively focuses on the pinnacle of its interest, zeroing in on that magnificent sight, having everything else blur in the background? That's what Nate's eyes did to me. The golden, caramel orbs locked on mine and it was all I could see. His eyes are red rimmed as if the surgery was still taken its toll but his face is bare and so responsive. The butterflies, the ones that have become paralyzed a few weeks back, twitch and flutter when Nate's pupils dilate and his clear, breathtaking eyes roam around my face before dropping down my body.

My lips parted when our eyes met. His eyes are like two shimmering pools of gunmetal blue, their almond shape adding an air of mystery to his gaze. They possess a captivating glow, as if they hold a secret that only the darkness can reveal. These eyes are not just ordinary; they are extraordinary. They draw you in, making it impossible to look away. I swallowed nervously, determined not to let his intense gaze overpower me. With a swift and forceful kick, I managed to free my leg from his grasp. The pain made him cursed.

It felt like an eternity had passed when I looked up again. Tristan stood before me, disheveled, eyes hollow with dark circles beneath. His stubble shadowed his face, giving him an edge of desperation. Clutching the broken pieces of our drawing, he trembled. "It's alright. We can make another one. I'll fix it." With a shaky, childlike eagerness, he held out a small amulet in both hands as if it were a trophy he'd won. "Look, Emily," he said, his voice strained, almost pleading. "I got another amulet for you."

Emma Ninety-six hours and fifty minutes had passed. Emma was locked up in that same bedroom belonging to her captor. Her eyes were fixed on a certain spot on the white ceiling. They were dull, as if they belonged to a dead person. Dull and lifeless. They shed no more tears; they had dried up, and the traces of them were now parched on her cheeks.