Might I just say @mortemistrata that I was a little unsure about this prompt at first, but I had so much fun writing this!
“Good morning, Keith.”
Keith froze with one eyebrow arched. He slowly studied the brunet in front of him. “No ‘mullet’ this morning?”
“That would be rude,” Lance said, lips curled into a frown.
Keith’s face fell until he was matching the brunet’s expression. “Are you okay?” He zeroed in on small details, like the way Lance’s normally tan skin looked slightly washed out or the dark, bruised circles under Lance’s almost lifeless eyes.
“Of course.” Lance replied, tone even. “We should go before we are late to breakfast.”
Keith absently nodded, brows furrowed deeply, as he followed the brunet into the dining hall.
A/N: some slight nsfw, but nothing too wild. I hope you guys like it:)
His skin was warm against your finger as you traced the edge of his mouth.
Ever so gently, you leaned in to kiss him.
Tom grumbled, shaking his head a bit. “Go to bed,” he said, opening one eye to peek at you.
A smile spread across your face as you sat up, staring down at him before reaching over to grab your phone. “Can I take a picture of you? There’s something angelic about your morning face.”
“Does my hair look okay?” he asked.
“Not really,” you admitted, and Tom made a face before closing his eyes again.
“I’d much rather you fall back to sleep with me,” his hand reached out for you, but you swatted it away and opened the camera on your phone.
“I will, let me just take a quick photo.”
You took ten from the position you were sitting in now, and then another ten after laying back down beside him.
“Are you done yet?” he groaned, opening his eyes, and right at that moment, you snapped one last picture.
He was staring directly into the camera…directly at you. Those dark eyes of his were hazy with sleep; his garnet-colored lips delicate with life.
“Beautiful,” you whispered, staring at the photo of his face. Tom leaned forward and took a glance at the picture, then he turned away, digging his face into the pillows. “Don’t be like that,” you told him, setting your phone and prying the pillows away from his face. With nothing to hide him, you were able to look at him as he was: bright with life and beauty. Oh how you wished everyone in the world could experience him as you did.
Tom’s hand came up to your cheek, sliding down until it was behind your neck. Without much force, he willed you down toward him. As your lips met with his, you pressed your right hand against his chest, feeling the hard muscle of his body as you kissed him. He tasted sweet and hot, his tongue a cool contrast as it slid against yours.
i saw a post that said “when you hear Vincent Van Gogh, do you think of starry night or bloody ear?” and all i could think about was his sunflowers and how his memorial is sunflowers and fields of them and how you can go and pick as many as you want and how he was barely holding on but painting was his way to cope and he was such a deeply sad man and still his paintings were beautiful and filled w bright colors and life and happiness and if that’s not proof that the things you love truly can keep you going (even if it’s not forever) then i don’t know what is cause yeah yanno maybe he cut off his ear but he found a way to make his pain beautiful and he was constantly looking for a way to hang on and i think that’s proof that as humans our nature is to fight cause we have that fight or flight mode right and he was so low that he tried eating yellow paint to make him happy inside and i really wonder what he would be like if he was alive now?? like would he still paint as beautiful? would his pain still be as unbearable as it was to him??? would he have cut off his ear?? maybe he would have made person the thing that wills him to hold on, instead of eating paint chips or painting. and i think that’s just proof that we all have more fight in us than we think we do because he thought eating yellow paint and cutting off his ear was his lowest point, and maybe it was, but the very thought of him eating yellow paint made him survive and kept him going for just a while longer and maybe it wasn’t forever but sometimes the things we find solace and consolation in, keep us alive for longer than we thought was even possible, and i think we all have our yellow paints and things we do to help us survive even if they’re odd, or make no sense, or end up hurting us even more and i think he’s a pretty fuckin rockin man and i wish everyone would have loved and appreciated him more because his paintings (and just him in general) is deadass proof that when things are shitty and you’re at rock bottom, sometimes all you can do is slap a paint brush against paper and hope for something prettier than your chaotic mind. or write and write and write until your hand cramps and hope to silence your thoughts. or sing, or dance, or run, or call someone, or simply confide in a person who’s hand is outstretched and waiting for you to take it. and i think that’s good, i think we all have our yellow paints and sunflowers and starry nights. i think beauty comes from all things painful (not to romanticize anything because self destruction is not beautiful but the strength you gain from getting over it is) and anyways, i hope you find your yellow paint and i hope it keeps you alive. i hope you allow sunflowers to bloom from your lungs and i hope you allow yourself room to breathe and grow and become the artist (in any way you express yourself) that you’re meant to be.
Margaret and Mary Tudor, princesses and later Dowager Queens, the daughters of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, the sisters of Henry VIII. Born nearly a decade apart, the two knew little of each other after Margaret departed to Scotland, yet shared the same passionate and self-possessed nature, choosing their own mates to the scandal and scorn of others.
Request: Could you do a Harry Hook imagine based on “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever”? Thanks!
Warnings: Like one cuss word
A/N: This is based off this song. I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you like it! Also, would you guys like me to start saying the word count for each imagine? Let me know.
Harry sat alone on his bed, his eyes bloodshot from another sleepless night. He’d been waiting for you. For some sign of you, a visit, a note, anything. He hadn’t left his room for almost two days and many called him over dramatic, but he didn’t care. He lost you. Which is something he never thought possible. Harry was losing hope quickly of you coming back to him, a part of him just wanted to forget about it. But he brushed that idea off as quick as it came, he needed you, and he wouldn’t be able to forget you.
“Pull yourself together, idiot.” Harry whispered to himself. “She’s not coming back.”
He let that realization sink in. He messed stuff up with you, it was his fault. Why should he act like the victim?
He stared into the dirty mirror mounted on his wall, “What is happening to me?”
The smeared eyeliner, bloodshot eyes, pale skin, ocean blue eyes now a darker color. It was so unlike him to be like this. He was the infamous Harry Hook, son of Captain Hook. He wore that name with pride and made sure he always looked the part too. He was one of the strongest and toughest people on the Isle. One of the most evil. So why was he acting like this?
Harry’s thoughts drifted to you, your smile, your eyes, your lips, all those memories you’ve made together. He couldn’t throw all that away just because of one mistake he’d made. He couldn’t live like this much longer, his life was shades of black and white with out you. But when you were there you brought color and meaning to this pointless life on the Isle. Suddenly the pointless life on the Isle wasn’t pointless anymore with you.
He was going to get you back.
You brought your hand up to brush the tear rolling down your cheek. You wouldn’t shed any tears over him. He had let you down too many times.
You thought about Harry constantly. You would walk around the Isle and see him in every face that passes by. And you could’ve sworn your hear his voice calling your name. You saw Harry in all the empty faces.
You broke up with Harry last week because he never paid much attention to you. It was always Uma, Uma, Uma. Always about his pirate crew. You understood he knew them longer, they were family to him. But he constantly blew you off for them, he cancelled countless dates because, “Uma needed him to watch the ship” or “Gil needed help with something.” You were giving so much to the relationship, and he gave nothing. It was one sided and you didn’t want to be the only one putting effort into it anymore. So you broke it off.
You knew Harry loved you, though. He just had a hard time showing it, emotions weren’t a very common thing with him. And you needed a lot of love, he just couldn’t give you that. You thought of his messy hair, those blue eyes, that damn smirk of his. You thought of the time you and him snuck off in the middle of the night to the shore of the Isle, to watch the commotion of Auardon from across the sea. And how that night you two vowed you’d get to Auradon together.
You wondered if you just dodged a bullet or lost the love of your life. You were going crazy, but you weren’t going to let Harry back in so easily. He needed to prove to you that he was serious about you. It was gonna take more than ocean blue eyes and a smirk to lure you back into his spell again.
You would meet with Harry soon enough and you would get him back.
You sat with your back facing your door. You were twiddling with this pearl Harry found on the shore and gave to you. You kept it even after the two of you split.
A knock on your door suddenly sounded. And a weary looking Harry stepped through into your house. He looked terrible. He wasn’t looking like the shining pirate you were used to seeing. He looked drained.
Your mouth gaped open at the sight of this, “…Harry? What happened? You look-,” You stopped. You wanted to hold him in your arms and take him back right then and there, but you couldn’t. Not that easily.
“(Y/N), we need to talk.” Harry paused and he looked at you before sitting down on the bed next to you, scanning your figure.
He began again, “I’m sorry for everything. I treated you like crap sometimes I know, I-I just let being first mate get to my head. All those people on my crew look up to me, I felt like I was important for once. Like I wasn’t the screw up like my father thinks I am. I felt wanted.” He confessed.
You responded, “I wanted you Harry. You were important to me. You always had me, why couldn’t you just tell me all of this. We could’ve talked things out.”
“I- I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry (Y/N). I was an asshole to you and I deserved all the sorrow that came to me. But I’m going crazy without you love, you keep me sane. You’ll always be my love. Is this really the end of us?” His blue eyes held worry in them.
“I can’t just take you back that easily, Harry. I need to know I can trust you, that you won’t hurt me again.” Your tone was serious.
“(Y/N), I can’t change the past, but if there’s one thing I can change, it’s the future. And I promise that as long as we’re together, I’ll protect you. You have my word, love.” Harry was closer to you now, your bodies inches away from touching.
“Okay then, Hook. You have one more chance, don’t ruin it.” He promptly nodded.
You hadn’t noticed till now that you both had been leaning forward unconsciously. His lips were just barely grazing yours while his hands were wrapped up in your hair. It was like he was waiting for permission to kiss you.
You looked into those damn blue eyes and whispered, “Kiss me.”
And he did.
His lips were so soft, and almost had a taste of salt. From his tears you assumed. It was just like old times, his hands were up in your hair, as your hands gripped his muscular arms. The kiss was slow, and longing. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered, like you were his sanity. It was clear he needed you. His arms were desperate and needy as they trailed down to your waist. He gripped your figure tightly, like he was afraid to let go and lose you again. His lips parted from yours, and he pressed his forehead to yours.
He whispered, “I love you.”
You were taken aback, you two had never said that to each other before. He stared at you nervously, waiting for your response.
You knew in your heart you loved him too. “I love you more.” You smiled and looked at him. He was your sunlight. He pulled you into his arms and you both laid down on the bed, your head resting on his chest. Harry was running his hands through your hair and his hands started to grow lazy, and his breaths evened out. He was fast asleep. You looked at his soft sleeping figure, so vulnerable and sweet. Your entire world laid sleeping beneath you.
You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to succumb to sleep too. Just before you slept you decided you didn’t want to live forever if he wasn’t there beside you.
Hi guys! I’m really sorry that I haven’t been posting as much, but school has been crazy busy! This is just a fluffy imagine that will totally have a part 2, so I hope you enjoy!💗
Stars in His Eyes
Tom kept his eyes trained on her while she wandered throughout the party with Laura. He knew that she would probably be safe because she was with their friend, but he just needed to make sure that nobody got too close to her and made her uncomfortable. Ever since Tom had known her, she had been almost painfully shy and had suffered from anxiety, especially in large crowds, so Tom just wanted to ensure that she was alright. She’d gotten swept away from him before, and Tom refused to lose her again.
The beer bottle in his hand was freezing cold and he longed to hold her hands between his own to warm up. Tom wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked tonight in her little sundress, with her hair curled into soft ringlets that hung down her exposed back. Her lips looked like rosy, red pillows and her eyelids were painted a shimmery, champagne color. Her cheeks were blushing and Tom didn’t know how, but the light enveloped her entire body, so wherever she went, she shined like an angel. He wanted to tell her all these things and more, but instead, he’d kept his mouth shut the best he could.
They weren’t together, they were merely friends. But, that being said, they were friends who brought each other hot drinks on cool days. They were friends who lent each other coats and snuggled together under blankets. They were friends who shared food off of the same plate and who held hands to cross the street. They were friends who fell asleep on the couch together while they stayed up all night watching films. They were friends who longed to be more.
Looking back over her shoulder, she glanced back to where Tom, Jacob and Harrison stood, their backs leaned up against a wall. She prayed Tom wouldn’t see her as her eyes flicked over his frame.
He looked so good, the best, she pondered. His jeans fit him impeccably and she wondered who’d helped him pick them out, because surely they deserved an award, and the buttons of his shirt strained against the broadness of his chest, forcing the lines of definition hidden beneath to be showcased to their fellow party-goers.
“Hey,” Laura’s sudden voice called out, cutting into her fantasy of simply walking up to Tom, and yanking him down to kiss her. “Let’s get another drink, yeah?”
Nodding her head, the girls rejoined hands and did their best to push through the crowded living room and into the kitchen to refill their cups.
Jacob nudged Tom’s shoulder when he saw that his friend’s attention was focused entirely on her retreating frame through the kitchen’s door. “Dude, this has to stop. You look like her stalker or some shit.”
Harrison snorted into his beer before agreeing, “Yeah, mate. It’s too much, if someone didn’t know the two of you, they’d probably fear for her life.”
Tom scoffed, shaking his head before taking a gulp of beer. “That’s not, I’m not, it’s not, it’s fine. Everything is fine. I’m just making sure that she’s- fuck, I mean they’re, okay.”
“For sure, dude, for sure.” Jacob said, making a point to roll his eyes. “Why don’t you just chug your beer, walk into the kitchen, and ask her out? You want to date her, and you’ve got to know that she wants to date you too.”
“I just,” Tom paused, diligently attempting to think of something eloquent to say, “I just don’t wanna do anything that is going to make her feel like it’s all going to fast. I heard her talking to Laura yesterday about how she thinks that the sweetest relationships are the ones that have had the most time to build themselves up.”
“Dude, you guys have had nearly a year to build up your relationship.” Harrison commented, shaking his head. “You’re both just looking for excuses to stay the same way.”
Tom did his best to ignore Harrison’s comment. He wasn’t not asking her out because he wanted their relationship to become totally and completely immobile, he wasn’t asking her out because he was scared that he would fuck everything up. Little did he know, she and Laura were having a similar conversation, but theirs was over glasses of pink wine.
“Tom looks to pretty right now,” She sighed dreamily. “He looks like Prince Philip brought to life. Too bad I’m not Sleeping Beauty.”
“If we keep drinking, we may as well be.” Laura giggled. “But seriously, what’s wrong with asking him out on a date? Y’all text all the time, you even speak on the phone, come to think of it, I can’t even recall a time where you guys haven’t been talking.”
“He’s just everything to me, I don’t know what I would do if he were to go away forever, you know? I can’t imagine waking up, knowing that he’s no longer apart of my life. He’s too important to me to risk it all for a relationship that may or may not work out.” She said, picking off her nail varnish.
“I know he’s important to you, but you must realize how important you are to him? He looks at you with stars in his eyes, and if you say that they’re just naturally twinkly, I swear to God.” Laura threatened.
Laura had met her in a thrift store and the pair had bonded over their love of cute, vintage, high-waisted mom jeans. They wandered through the entire store together, exchanged numbers and hung out twice before she had accidentally revealed what a massive Spider-Man fan she was.
When Laura had brought her onto set, she and Tom melded together and into one. Nobody knew quite what it was,but it was like the invisible hand of fate kept throwing them together.
She literally bumped into him the first time they met. Tom had held her in his arms longer than what would be deemed polite, and they had just stared at each other, completely mesmerized by the face in front of them. Then, Tom bumped into her at the craft service table, and then she ran into him as she was leaving the set. Again, the light of day seemed to melt into a faint dusk before he let her go. Then, for weeks later, Tom pestered Laura for her number. He needed to know her.
Now, after spending the summer, autumn, winter and spring together, Tom definitely knew her. He understood her, she littered all of his thoughts and his actions, and she very well could be likened to stars in his own, personal night sky.
After another two glasses of wine, she was absorbed by thoughts of Tom and wanted nothing more than to be curled up on his lap like a cat while he combed his fingers through her hair. Hiccuping her way out the door, she called out to Laura, “I’m gonna do, it’ll be done, and it’ll be by me. He’ll be done by me in the ways of asking out, and then everything will be like ‘Penelope,’ and he’ll kiss me, but I don’t have a pig’s nose?”
Laura rushed to her friend, hugging her into her arms, “You’re gonna do so great! He’s going to love you, and you’re going to be in love, and then everyone is going to say I told you so! Get out there and do it!”
Her legs wobbled as she parted groups of people in an attempt to find Tom. When she finally spotted him, she waved and called for his attention. “Tom, I found you! I got something in my mouth for you, to say to you!”
Tom raised his eyebrows as he placed his beer on the table and began to make his way over to her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he said, “Jeez, darling, how drunk are you?”
Tucking her head beneath his chin and curling her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, she replied, “Oh, I’m not drunk at all! I’ve only had a few, actually a few means a small number of, and Laura and I finished a bottle and a half of wine, so i guess that would be more of a dyad of drinks?”
Tom called out to Harrison and Jacob, motioning for them to grab Laura from the kitchen so they could all head back home. Judging by her level of intoxication and description of how much the girls had to drink, Tom figured that this is when the party should end for them.
Guiding her out the door with a firm hand around her waist, he felt one of her hands stroke across his cheeks. “You’re so pretty.” She said, fingers still gliding over his skin.
Tom chuckled, she always got this way when she had too much to drink. “No, you’re so pretty. In fact, you’re prettier than all the princesses in the whole, wide world.”
“Laura and I were talking about you tonight. I think you look like Prince Philip and she thinks that I should ask you out. What do you think?” She asked when they’d finally felt the air’s cool breath fan across their faces.
“I think you’re drunk and talking shit.” Tom said, blowing on his hands and rubbing them up and down her arms while she leaned into his chest, fully supported by his touch.
“No, I am not!” She gasped out childishly. “I’ve been wanting you since the summer. Wanting, waiting, but you,” She booped him on the nose, “Have yet to give me a sign. Why haven’t you given me a sign? I wanna be with you, don’t you wanna be with me? Laura thinks you do.”
Tom shook his head and mumbled a quiet, “Let’s talk when you’re sober, baby. You don’t know what you’re talking about right now.”
He glanced down at the girl’s head that rested on his shoulder, and he felt her eyelashes tickling his skin. Tom wanted to believe he felt the love in her words, but he was afraid that it was just the wine he smelt on her breath. He decided that he would wait until morning, and maybe then some, to ask her what she meant.
The night sky may as well be colored in completely charcoal if she were to walk out of his life. His night sky would be no more, and all he’d have to remember her by would be a black hole.
Request: You’re work is amazing!!!! I was wondering if you could do a bucky smut where he has had a nightmare and is taking his frustration out on the punching bag when he catches reader watching him and he can see her silhouette through her silk nightgown or at least something along those lines thanks
Summary: You catch Bucky after he’s had a nightmare. He’s in the gym, trying to release some pent up feelings, throwing his fists as hard as he can against a punching bag.
Warnings: Smutttttttt and angst :/
A/N: I hope you like this! I’m sorry it get’s a little real with the readers two paragraph responses to Bucky in the middle, you’ll know what I’m talking about when you read it. Also, I wrote this at four in the morning, so I may not get to any requests tomorrow because I need a break from writing the fics.