love in he eyes and flowers in her hair

Neverland’s Queen

A one-shot based off of the song Going to California by Led Zeppelin? Like the lyrics are a prophecy that Peter goes out to fulfill? “Someone told me there’s a girl out there, with love in her eyes and a flower in her hair. (..) She is red when skies are grey. (..) They say she plays guitar and cries, and sings…” ^Prophecy idk. So Peter goes to find this dream girl or whatever and finds it she doesn’t really exist. He comes back to Neverland where the reader is staying, and realizes that SHE is his dream girl. Idk the whole request is a mess:)

warnings: slight swearing, also i loooove this request. it’s detailed and different so i really went all out
1990 words

“There’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
When the sea burns red and the sky stains grey,
And the mountains and canyons then tremble and shake
As the children of the sun begin to awake,

You will find a queen without a king.
She plays a song and cries and sings.
She rides a white mare in the footsteps of dawn.
She is a woman who’s been never born.”

Peter Pan gawked at the mermaid, stunned by her sung prophecy. He never had any use of the Seer of the Sea, until recently, when he had grown restless of his lonely life, and so had come to the Lagoon seeking out the maid who gave oracles to those who could capture her. The King of Neverland was tired of a solitary reign. He needed someone to rule beside him, someone who could love and protect the island just as he did. There were his Lost Boys, of course, and they were fiercely loyal and true of heart, but he couldn’t very well make any of them his queen.

There was you, however. A girl fiercer than any of his boys, and much prettier, Peter mentally added. Of course, he would never tell you that. You infuriated his entire being. Truly, it was a miracle that Pan restrained himself from begging the Shadow to take you back. He loathed you. He loathed your snark, your quick witted remarks shutting down his attempts at annoying you, he loathed your sweet laughter when you could convince the boys to tease him too, and he especially loathed the gentle curve of your lips when you smirked at him, absolutely plump and delic- NO.

Peter forced a heavy wall down onto those thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking about your infuriating lips. He needed to find his queen. “Where is she?” Peter boomed at the mermaid, and it was not so much a question as a command to tell him of the prophesied girl’s whereabouts. The oracle merely smiled knowingly, and began to float away. “Wait!” His voice was desperate, and the maid, sensing this, turned around slowly in the water, silver hair shimmering with the last of the sunset’s light.

“The girl you seek is from the place without magic.
And you shall soon find her surrounded by manic
But search well, dear King, and keep sharp your sight.
You may only find her until the break of first light.”

It took seconds to comprehend her second riddle, but Pan was quick, and shortly exasperated then after. Until the break of first light. Sunrise. “I only have sunrise to find her?”

“Cherish my gift of foretelling.
Do not be led astray.
My words’ magic, it shall run out
At the first light of the day.”

With a flick of her brilliant indigo tail, the mermaid was gone, and Peter was left alone with little time and a prophecy.

… … …

Night had finally fallen, and Peter strode into camp, headed straight for Felix. He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw you atop the boy’s shoulders. Laughing, as his second in command paraded you around. Blushing, as Felix cracked a joke about you being the queen of Neverland. Stroking, your fingers idly gripping the boy’s blond locks, and Peter’s own hands clenched at the display before him. Felix was clad in a white shirt tonight, a contrast to his usual earth-toned raiments, but the Lost Children had planned a special feast this evening, and it seemed he dressed up for the occasion. Dressed up for you. As Peter’s right-hand boy spun you, forcing sweet laughter from your lips, the King decided he had had enough of his horsing around.

“Felix,” he barked, not wasting any time as the moon rose into the sky. “I’m leaving the island for a little trip. You’re in charge,” Peter said, turning away from the sight of you together. He halted when your voice rang from the other side of camp.

“Finally tired of us, Pan?” You slipped off from Felix’s shoulders, eager to goad the clearly agitated leader. You couldn’t miss an opportunity to push his buttons. “I thought I’d never see the day you’d abandon us. And here you are, leaving us defenseless without a leader to protect us.”

“You’re damn well aware that you’re more than capable of protecting yourself, (Y/N).” Peter’s sharp response surprised you both. That almost sounded like… a compliment? No, it couldn’t be. You eyed him confusedly, and an unnameable tension that had been between you both for quite a few weeks now filled the air between you, humming as the Lost Boys began a bonfire far behind you.

Felix coughed from where he stood to the side, smirking at his leader with an understanding twist of his lips. Peter shot him a dirty look. It was a misfortune, he thought. That his subordinate should also be his best friend. He knew more about Peter than Peter knew about himself, and Pan hated it. He hated the knowing smirk on his subordinate’s lips. Felix did make up for though, when he cleverly dispersed the tension to save his friend from an awkward encounter. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Pan?”

The time. Peter looked up at the sky, and found the moon rising even higher into the night. “Shit,” he breathed. “I’ll be back by sunrise,” he stated, running off into the forest before flying up, up, and away to another realm. You watched him go, his beautiful form snaking throughout the trees and disappearing into the stars. Once he was out of sight, Felix whistled at you, and you grinned at your friend, hopping onto his back as he made his way to the feast.

… … …

Nothing. He had found fucking nothing these past few hours. Peter racked his mind for the bits and pieces of the prophecy he still retained. What had it all meant?

When the sea burns red.
She rides a white mare.
A woman who’s been never born.

How would the sea ever burn? Which white mare was it? If the girl he was searching for had never been born, what the hell was he doing looking for her? The oracle’s words swum in fragments in his mind.

Peter had searched all over the land without magic, flying over red waves of rock in a desert, searching through grey storms in chilly towns, and ending up in various pubs and bars, trying to find his prophesied queen. His equal. He did come across many beautiful girls where he searched, and they all took an interest in him, but he knew in his heart that they were not the one he had been looking for.

Everything about them was wrong. Their hair was wrong, their too-sweet words whispered into his ear were wrong, and even their lips were wrong, the slope of them not at all right. The feel of the girls was foreign, and unfamiliar. The moon hung low in the sky now, and Peter Pan had lost faith in finding someone who would fill the barren void in his heart. With a reluctant sigh, the King decided that there was no such queen for him, and with a crumbling heart, he flew home.

… … …

Peter made it back, unnerved by the fact that the Lost Boys were still dancing. He caught sight of you.

There’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.
When the sea burns red and the sky stains grey,

He saw the crown of poppies and other wildflowers adorning your head, and something tugged at the back of Peter’s mind. The moon was gone now, and a sliver of the sun’s fire was rising from the horizon, turning the ocean into a sea of red. Grey fog lined the skies.

And the mountains and canyons then tremble and shake
As the children of the sun begin to awake,

The Lost Boys continued to dance around of the fire, its flames mimicking those of the sun. It seemed as if the boys’ stomping quaked the very earth beneath them. The sun began to peek out from beyond the sea, driving the boys even wilder.

You will find a queen without a king.
She plays a song and she cries and she sings.

Your flower crown was beautiful upon you, Peter thought, the various shades of the petals bringing out the glow in your face, the mirth in your features. You sang a tune as the boys stepped in time, the beat never faltering.

She rides a white mare in the footsteps of dawn.

Peter took notice of your position on Felix’s broad shoulders, and his eyes widened as he realized his second-in-command had played as your steed for the night .

She is a woman who’s been never born.

Peter staggered backwards. The mermaid didn’t mean that the girl had not been born yet. She had been never born. Never born. Neverborn.

It was you, he realized. His queen, adorned with a crown and steed to match. You were an ordinary girl back where you had come from, but when the Shadow brought you here, oh, how stupid of him not to realize! Peter stared at you in awe. Once you were brought to Neverland, you were reborn as a Lost Girl. A queen. His queen. And the King had come to claim you.

“Peter!” You slipped off Felix as you caught sight of the green-eyed boy, eager to give another jab at his ego. He stalked towards you, a determined look on his face, and you smirked, ready to let the banter begin. “How kind of the King to return to his people,” you remarked, Peter walking faster towards you. “I was beginning to think-” You actually had no time to think, or to even finish your sentence, for that matter, because as soon as he had strided close enough, the King of Neverland pulled you in by the waist for the most breathtaking kiss.

… … …

It was quiet. The camp was quiet.

The fire was quiet.

The forest was quiet.

Hell, even the boys were quiet. Silence had swept over the island in a single breath as Peter Pan crashed his lips to yours. His mouth danced along your own, and you couldn’t comprehend how long it was the pair of you stood there in the middle of camp, your hands rested on his chest as his hands caressed your hips, all while you returned his fervent motions. You came up for breath, and peered up at him.

You tried to think of something, anything to say. At this point, you couldn’t care less if it was witty or not. You just needed to know…

“Why?” It was the least you could say, and you hoped it conveyed everything you wished to ask. Why was he kissing you? Why did it feel so right? Why you?

“Because you’re my queen,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. And although you were unaware of most of the meaning, somehow, you understood what he meant. You understood the meaning of the tension that had been building up between you two, the meaning of his playful teasing, and the meaning of the words he spoke now. You smiled up at Peter, at your King, and leaned in for another kiss. He was more than happy to oblige, and the boys began hollering once again at the pair of you, Felix rolling his eyes as if to say, “About damn time.”

The magic of the island thrummed as if in understanding that its queen had been found, and somewhere beneath murky turquoise depths, a grin bloomed on the face of someone with silvery locks, who beamed up at the surface in approval before swimming away with a flick of an indigo tail.

(A/N): I fucking loved writing this, and I hope you guys enjoyed it too! 

did you think she was weak?
this girl with flowers in her teeth
a dress of black souls floating to her feet

her life was changed in a crack
earth split open, dragged down deep, ankles blue black
but the love she found was of no compare to flower and wheat

a man of nighttime air and winter springs
eyes like saphire on fire
a crown on his head, an outstretched hand

did you think she didn’t know?
when he asked for no more than a kiss, lips pomegranate red
when his hand found her hair, she was his

the seeds passed her lips
a sense of home long lost to the comfort of the dark
as she slipped into bliss, into rule, into love

why do you think she was there?
in her youth dreaming of a throne, crowns made from roses
maybe she grew poisoned flowers for a reason

fly traps and wisteria, Lilly of the Valley  
a need to hold the ugly in her pale, gentle hands
maybe she knew what she was doing

who holds the keys to the dead?
a girl with flowers in her teeth and stormy seas in her eyes
she is the winner of a game of death

she now holds the throne, sitting proud  
her dress of oblivion hanging on her swaying hips
a Queen, a Conqueror, she now his world.

—  a girl with pomegranate still fresh on her breath. 

She sleeps all day,
dreams of you in both worlds, 
tills the blood in and out of uterus,
wakes up smelling of zinc.

Grief sedated by orgasm,
orgasm heightened by grief. 

God was in the room
when the man said to the woman
I love you so
much wrap your legs around
me pull me in pull me in pull
me in pullme in pull mein 

Sometimes when he had her
nipple in his mouth she’d whisper 
this too is a form of worship. 

It smelt like flowers the last time she
buried the friend with the kind eyes. 
The last time she buried her face
into his mattress, frangipani.

Her hips grind, 
pestle and mortar,
cinnamon and cloves. 
Whenever he pulls out: 

—  Grief Has Its Blue Hands in Her Hair by Warsan Shire

“You love him?”


“Then why can’t you be with him?”

“He belongs to her now. I kept waiting for him to realize I was the one for him but within that time he forgot my name.”


Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #275


10:13 pm

Zutara week 4- Lilac

He had never liked gardening, and couldn’t remember most of the names of the flowers his mother used to point out to him- but he remembered this one. Its scent was incomparable. As gently as he could he cut through the stem and turned to Katara. He held up the flower, contrasting its purple petals against the green of her silk robe. It would look lovely in her hair.

“It smells amazing,” she said.

“They grow in the gardens of the Fire Nation palace,” he told her. “This is the first one I’ve seen in the Earth Kingdom.”

She looked at him as if she wanted to ask more, but then averted her eyes- almost sadly, he thought. 

The words bubbled out before he could stop them: “Would you like to come and see them for yourself, one day?” 

She smiled knowingly. “Yes Zuko, I’d love to.”

Theo Raeken | Ariel

Originally posted by lets-be-a-queen

Request: Imagine idea for Theo: Reader having bright red hair and the personality of Ariel (from the little mermaid) and she has a crush on Theo and she’s just kinda innocent. He catches her doing ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ with some type of flower and kisses her or something.


“Lydia, are you dropping me off at school?” Y/N yelled at her older sister. She was a junior this year and was ready for the bright year. Just like her older sister, Y/N was the smartest girl and had all AP classes. Both girls had bright green eyes that capture your attention. The only difference was that Y/N’s hair was bright red, not strawberry blonde. Y/N also didn’t know about the supernatural, which made a lot of questions pop up. 

Lydia walked in the room, staring at her younger sister. Y/N lightly curled her hair and was wearing a light blue dress, with brown boots. 

“You look perfect.” Lydia smiled and grabbed her sister. Lydia’s worst fear was Y/N getting sucked into the supernatural world like she and Allison were. Allison was a sister to Lydia but died by the Oni. Of course, Y/N didn’t know this, she thought that they were all attacked by a robber. 

Lydia and Y/N reached Beacon Hills High School. 

“Hey sis, I have to go. Love you.” Lydia said, kissing Y/N’s forehead and running inside the school. Y/N turned her head and felt like hiding. There was a guy, with brown hair styled up in a quiff, a black jacket covering his arms which were proof that he worked out, and green-blue eyes that seemed like you were heaven. Y/N’s eyes widened as he walked past her. She was quickly pulled away by the boy that was younger than her. 

“Liam,” She whined. 

“You are not staring at him, he’s a year older,” Liam said, as they both stopped at her locker. 

“So he looks pretty like he just jumped out of a book,” Y/N said, looking over and, this time, the boy was looking at her. He smiled and winked, making Y/N fall and die. 

“Oh my gosh.” Liam slammed himself into the locker next door. 

“Holy shit, Liam did you see that?” Y/N said, her green eyes so bright Liam thought he might buy a pair of sunglasses. The bell rang, making Y/N say her goodbyes and go to class. 

It was lunch, and Y/N couldn’t find anyone so she went outside and say on the grass. A daisy was right beside her. Y/N grabbed it and started to pick out the pedals. 

“He loves me. He loves me not.” She repeated. As the last pedal came another hand came in view picking it off. 

“He loves me.” Y/N slowly said, her eyes looking at the boy. He sat down next her, leaning against the tree.

“I must say, you remind me of Ariel.” He smiled, taking a piece of her hair, and twirling it. 

“My grandma used to call me that.” Y/N whispered. 

“That’s cute,” He said. “Theo.” The boy finally gave her his name. Y/N saw his eyes drift off her lips. Theo slowly leaned in, as their lips slowly touched. 

The kiss didn’t last that long due to Liam coming in and pulling Y/N away. She was in a daze and touched her lips where his had been moments ago. 

I hope you liked it. -A

To the guy who came and left

You saw her deep aesthetics
You did all you can just to keep in touch with this girl
And you got her
Not because you are good at something
But this woman has the soft hearted person you’ll ever met
She gets attached to someone easily

You accepted my flaws I accepted yours either
As you looked into my eyes
My heart beat raced
You’re loving the way my hair flows through your arms as you sit beside me

You gave her flowers and chocolates with some of your letter
This girl haven’t received anything like that
So she treasures every single bit of yours
And thinking of… He might be the one
As time flies
Your feelings fade
I couldn’t understand why.
Am I not enough?
I feel so stupid of giving my heart and time to someone who wouldn’t even be with me till the end.

She’ll get over it soon.
She’ll be okay.

He walked her home that night. The rest, as they say, is history.
It was all flowers and starry nights. More car washes and water fights, his eyes in the city lights and a white apartment and flowers she taped on their walls. Wooden floors that smelled like lime, messy bed with white bed sheets, picnics in meadows and laying in the grass with the dandelions and daisies in her yellow dress, driving with the top of his car down as his hair blew in the wind, butterflies on his shoulder and hushed laughters and kisses that tasted like smiles.
Nothing was ever the same.
—  The story of you and I

Lady Lilith by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, circa 1872. He also wrote a poem about Lilith strangling horny men to death with her hair called Body’s Beauty:

Of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, it is told
(The witch he loved before the gift of Eve,)
That, ere the snake’s, her sweet tongue could deceive,
And her enchanted hair was the first gold.
And still she sits, young while the earth is old,
And, subtly of herself contemplative,
Draws men to watch the bright web she can weave,
Till heart and body and life are in its hold.
The rose and poppy are her flowers; for where
Is he not found, O Lilith, whom shed scent
And soft-shed kisses and soft sleep shall snare?
Lo! as that youth’s eyes burned at thine, so went
Thy spell through him, and left his straight neck bent
And round his heart one strangling golden hair.

A guy out there was meant to be the love of your life, your best friend, your soul mate, the one you can tell your dreams to. He’ll smile at you, but he’ll never laugh at your heart. He’ll brush the hair out of your eyes. Send you flowers when you least expect it. He’ll stare at you during the movies, even though he paid $8 to see it. He’ll call to say goodnight or just cause he is thinking of you. He’ll look in your eyes and tell you, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and for the first time in your life, you’ll believe it.

There was a lonely sunshine
streaking past the wild trees
and changing leaves.

There was a girl
screaming past the roses
and daisies,
there was a boy
walking past the dandelions
and sunflowers.

There was a happy sunset
speaking to their eyes
and there was the red
that left the hearts
of those we couldn’t love.

Because the girl was screaming
as he walked away
and his heart was whispering
“why did i do that?”

So they became strangers
made from flowers
and sad sunlight.

There was a lonely sunshine
kissing her cheeks
and it’s a new morning.

She was no longer alone.

There was a girl
crying past baby buds
and small bees,
they could see
her blue, blue sea.

It streamed into her hair
from her eyes,
it streamed from her soul
and poured out of her heart.

There was a girl
walking past the
and this time
she was alone,
but this time
she made herself
a home.

In between the petals that they lost,
in between the fingers that held,
in between the lips that lied,
in between the hands that bled,
in between the roses and daisies,
she said with an apologetic tone

“i hate you, i love you.
i hate that i love you.”

lyrics from a song she just heard.

There was a girl and there were these flowers,
there was a boy and he was gone with the bees.

“some flowers need to be stolen.
some people need to be a thief.
so she stole those flowers
like how he stole her heart.”

She sang her whole way home,
but don’t warn the authorities.

—  The girl that stole flowers
// k.c.
this time of year was always difficult. she was everywhere he looked. her laugh, her smile, the way her eyes would light up when he brought home flowers unexpectently. he’d moved across the ocean just to get away from everything that reminded him of the love he lost and she seemed to have followed him over. he sighed as he sat at the bar looking down at the drink in his hand. that’s when he saw her walk in. her hair was tied back and sh elooked beautiful even if she wasn’t dressed to impress. she sat down alone and was given a simple drink. he wasn’t sure why but he walked over to her slowly, “sorry, but you sorta look like perhaps you’re as miserable about this time of the year as i am. mind if i sit and we can be miserable without being alone?”

darcethefarce  asked:

"Steve!! Happy Valentine's Day!!" Darcy grinned, having blindfolded her boyfriend and led him down to the living room for his surprise. He'd either love it or hate it, so she was really hoping it was the former. "You can take the blindfold off now." She'd turned the living room into an old fashioned dance hall, like something he'd have gone to for dates in the past. She'd found a vintage swing dress and stockings and tried to do her hair up like a pinup girl "Will you..,give me this dance?"


After seeing the entire setup, his flowers and chocolate seemed so mundane. But, his eyes lit up as he looked at her. “You did all this for me?” It was just like he remembered it being. From the floor all the way to the way she was dressed and pinned up her hair. He reaches forward, taking her waist in his hands, and starts to hum an old tune, swaying to the beat.

—James’s favorite colour was red. It was the most  Gryffindor colour. Symbolising courage and bravery and the blood that must be sacrificed to do what was right.

—Sirius’s favorite colour was yellow. A perfect Gryffindor complement. It was also as bright and annoying as Sirius himself. He liked to decorate rooms with flowers, bananas, and lemons.

—Remus liked dark blues and purples. They were calming and majestic colours. He was reminded of mountains and cloudy sun sets.

— Peter loved orange. A mix of James and Sirius, and complimentary to Remus. A warm colour that he associated with late nights by the fire in the common room.

—Lily adored green. Complements about her eyes were always her favorite.She would wear small accessories, like ribbons and braclets, of different shades. Her hair would make these stand out.

—Severus favored silver. A mysterious and elegant colour. One that matched quite well with the deeper muted colours he also enjoyed.

Oliver Queen vs Ollie Queen, a little headcanon by me

Oliver Queen is a very different boyfriend from Ollie Queen. 

If you can even consider Ollie Queen a boyfriend. 

Oliver wouldn’t. Ollie was selfish, manipulative, brash, irresponsible, impulsive, and lacking any type of real sense of responsibility. And while Oliver may still be some of those things, he likes to think that his awareness of these attributes must point to progress.

(Also, Ollie had really terrible hair.)

Oliver Queen is actually surprised at how good he is at the whole commitment thing. He’s attentive—it’s not hard to be, because Felicity is sort of like the sun, and he’s powerless against her pull. But he likes putting a smile on her face. He likes doing unexpected things like bringing her fresh cut flowers just to watch the light reach her eyes. 

He wants to be consumed by her goodness. 

He loves all the parts of her, even the parts she doesn’t know he sees. 

He doesn’t miss the way she reaches for him in the mornings, as if assuring herself that he’s there—that she’s there, too. The months haven’t erased her fears, and he knows this. So before he goes anywhere, he makes sure she knows where he’s going. That he’ll be back. He’ll always do his best to get back to her. 

He discovers that she’s slightly messy. She says it’s a true sign of genius, but he’s meticulous and it annoys him sometimes. 

They fight. They’re both headstrong and determined, it’s bound to happen. He knows her habit of storming off to avoid saying something she’ll regret, and he lets her go when she does it, but he always follows shortly after. He doesn’t want her to be too far away, doesn’t ever want her to think that they’re not worth fighting for. Even fighting each other’s demons for. 

All in all, Oliver Queen is surprised how naturally being Felicity Smoak’s boyfriend really is. 

And he hopes being her husband isn’t that far behind. 


Straightening out his jacket, Roderich gave a slightly embarrassed sigh. “Oh, don’t worry, then.” He glanced around at the flowers and bushes. “It is quite lovely to look at, isn’t it?”

Alice observed the man from the corner of her eyes, glancing back down to the flowers. “Very much so, I don’t see it often.” she replied, running a hand through her hair. “I’m at sea almost all the time, so this is a rarity.”

In his saddest moments, since she’s been gone, he imagines all the things that will never happen.

They will never argue about donut holes again (he usually put up a token argument before eating three in a row).

He will never get to take her to his favourite farmers’ market, pick her wildflowers, weave those flowers into her beautiful dark hair.

She will never taunt him about his too-easy defeats by “haloismybitch” on the video console.

He will never look into her dark eyes, eyes he would drown in.

He will never get to tell her that he loves her. That she is everything.

He will never get to hold her through the night, until the first kiss of morning eeks through the curtains.

He could list the “nevers” for eternity.

And then Miss Jenny convinces him back to the books. Back to finding answers. And he takes some comfort in this modern family of his, who keep him alive, who hold back the cavern of darkness yawning inside him.

Let The Words Slip Out of Your Mouth (1/1)

Florist Killian Jones wonders if he should let go of his last love Milah and talk to the beautiful blonde woman who works at the flower shop  (based on the words music video x)

also on and AO3

Killian tried not to think about her, the way her blonde hair cascaded down her back, the way her brows furrowed in concentration while inspecting his latest collection of orchids, the way she delicately touched the petals, the way her green eyes glinted when she caught him sneaking glances at her, and the way her cheeks turned pink when he caught her sneaking glances at him. He had been supplying flowers to the shop she worked at for two months now, and still he had not mustered up the courage to talk to her.  

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Walk in with flowers in your hair. The sun is your skin and the stars are your eyes. You are a warm, dazzling beauty. Because that is you. That will always be you. Don’t try to be the most phenomenal thing in the world. You already are. You just gotta strut the fuck in there and let him know he’s missing the greatest thing that could ever happen to him.
—  something my best friend told me when I was wasting my time and tears on someone who didn’t deserve it