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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

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You Love Me for Everything You Hate Me For

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cock warming; insinuated breeding kink

Summary: You knew better and Daryl would remind of that.

A/N: Inspired by @retroellie headcanon regarding submissive vs dominant Daryl and @thewalkingdilf headcanon on cock warming. 🩵

You choked on another whine, body vibrating with fine tremors of barely contained arousal and a desperation for relief. You had lost track of time, stretched and molded around Daryl’s cock buried to the hilt inside you. The hunter was on his third cigarette, taking ample time to enjoy each long draw while his sharp blues remained locked onto your face.

How the fuck was he able to be within your velvety walls and remain completely still, completely lucid, completely fucking hard?

“Daryl, please.” You took the risk, bit the bullet, even after you were ordered to remain unmoving and silent. Turning his head to the side, he let the smoke billow from his mouth in a cloud that blocked his eyes from you for a moment.

“Knew better than to wear that shit out where that creep could stare atcha like a piece’a meat.” In his defense, the skirt really had been a bit on the shorter side, barely covering the curve of your ass. Spencer had followed you around like a lost puppy, ensuring he stayed behind you. You weren’t stupid and neither was Daryl. You knew where the man’s gaze had been drawn.

“You brought me the skirt from your run. I wore it for you.” You knew your backtalk would get you absolutely nowhere. Truth be told, you were probably earning yourself more time without the fucking you yearned to receive.

You both were well aware that Daryl didn’t care one bit what you wore outside. It made him proud for you to show off. Everyone knew you were his, so completely and utterly and helplessly his. He just wanted a reason to toy with you, not that he needed one.

“Don’t matter.” His index finger moved from where his hand rested on your thigh, flipping up the edge of the fabric in question the slightest bit. “Need remindin’ who this is for.”

You did whine then, shifting your hips in the smallest motion to seek friction against your swollen, throbbing clit. His large hand left your thigh to grasp your hip tightly, squeezing in warning.

“Don’t be a brat or I’ll keep ya here all day.” The cigarette was left hanging from his chapped lips so that his free hand could glide under your top, the rough pad of his fingertip carving a line over the swell of your right breast and down to your nipple. The little bud pebbled beneath his attention, your pussy clenching around him. There was a twitch inside of you but your archer’s expression remained indifferent.

“God, Daryl, please let me move. I’ll be good, I swear.” Your hands left his shoulders to lay flat against his chest, itching to unbutton his shirt and feel his skin beneath your palms. “You can cum inside me. Fill me up if you want.”

His finger stilled over your areola, a dark brow arching. “That’s temptin’, sunshine. Real temptin’.” He moved his hand to your other breast. “Too bad I ain’t in the mood to bargain.”

You fell forward, your face buried against his neck. You thought for sure that would break him. You knew the risks. So did he. Fucking a baby into you had been discussed but ultimately placed on the back burner. He wanted it. He’d made that clear. You wanted to give him that, a little family of his own, but Alexandria was just too new. You could always see it in his eyes, though. The subtle disappointment when he pulled from within your tight heat to empty himself on your skin.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” You pleaded, sitting up to grind your hips down again. His hand squeezed your hip at the same time that he pinched your sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Anythin’, huh?” His eyes met yours while he tilted his head, considering your offer. “Alright.”

The sound that burst from within you was the most desperate, embarrassing keen you’d ever let slip. Your walls hugged him again, preparing for the fucking of a lifetime. His smoke was dropped into a glass of water on the table, joining the ones that came before it.

“What do you want me to do?”

The grin he gave you induced goosebumps all over your skin. “Wait. Wantcha to wait.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon twd #Spotify

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littlefoxandthearcher · 8 months

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spoilers for a curse for true love…

rant….solely about APPLES.

With the lil teaser via Stephanie:

“Apollo hated apples”

i’d like to state that this is sooooooo important to the breaking of the curse.

from the first book it’s established that Evangeline has a connection to Jacks… which I believe is stronger than true love to start his heart, but to break the archer/fox curse that has kill almost everyone he’s loved (Donatella being the exception).

Within the first 20 pages we are told that Jacks is her greatest heartbreak…

And then the motif continues once Evangeline gets to the North and well well well… the evidence is overwhelming. Not only is Jacks her biggest heartbreak (the past of his curse killing those he loved and the loss of her memory in the last book) but he is also her true love.

—-this we already know, but Evangeline will not… she will smell and taste the apples with a hinting sensations of love and affection but will not know what it means…

Further proof of her subconscious reminding her of Jacks

BUT

WHAT DO THE APPLES MEAN!??!?? To jacks.

truly I believe that since the apples taste like true love, they curb his instincts of kissing people to kill them- because all the fates can’t fight their feelings. So Jacks obsession with apples is just another form of his love for love but also his restriction to love anyone. Maybe he knows the apples taste like Evangeline…and that’s why “she’s better off not knowing” - to save her from kissing him and dying…

HIS IMPULSES BEING EVANGELINE??? I’ll die.

And lastly… Evangeline’s association with apples also causes… impulses too…

So, Apollo’s hatred of apples will send little alarm bells going off in her head/gut on her true feelings and memories. Maybe after coming into contact with Jacks again she’ll realize something is drawing her to him…

…

And a bonus moment that is overlooked…

#evajacks #evangeline fox #tbona #tbona memes #jacks x evangeline #ouabh spoilers #tbona spoilers #the ballad of never after #ouabh #ouabh memes #caraval #jacks prince of hearts #stephanie garber #tbona theories #jacks #the prince of hearts #acftl

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likeadevils · 4 months

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Could Lover and Midnights be considered sister albums? In the outro to Daylight, there is the line “Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night,” which stands in direct contrast to the opening line of the Midnights prologue “What keeps you up at night?”

all of her albums can be sister albums. one of my absolute favorite thing to do is to pair them up and draw parallels. le morte d'arthur there is no one way to interpret art get out your red string and go to town

lover and midnights have the same core question approached from two different perspectives— can we chose connection, despite our flaws? lover (mostly) focuses on the moment of chosing that connection. midnights (mostly) focuses on the flaws that get in the way of it.

let’s start with the track threes, arguably the thesis statements of both albums. lover is very focused on agency— love is a series of little choices that builds to long term commitment. in anti-hero, long term commitment is getting in the way of little choices. she’s trapped in these cycles that started as a choice and have ballooned into things she can not escape from— her pride is at war with her love, her fame is at war with friendship, her wealth is at war with her charity which is at war with her family. can you chose what you build your life on?

the archer and you’re on your own kid introduce another core difference. both about a history of jumping from the train and riding off alone. the archer asks, who could stay? and answers, you could stay. you’re on your own kid gives a different answer— the thing she sees in that blood soaked gown is not a perfect kiss, it is herself. who could stay? i could stay.

final example. closing tracks, daylight and mastermind. daylight lays out each party’s flaws, acknowledges them, and says we can throw out our cloaks and our daggers because it’s morning now, it’s brighter now. the things we hate and the things that keep us awake at night are there, but we are what we love. mastermind… plays with the grey area a little more. is taylor’s ambition and scheming ultimately deleterious to every relationship she has been in? the entire album says yes. but is it possible to truly connect while hiding yourself? the entire album says no. love, without truth, is hollow. truth is love. same question, two very different approaches, a similar conclusion… but different.

lover says to chose love is to chose your true self, that love is stronger than fear and hate, that the things we chose are more important than the things that get in the way of that choice. midnights says to chose your true self is to chose love, and that the things that haunt us in the middle of the night is not only something to acknowledge and shed, but something that must be embraced. the things we chose and the things that get in the way are not opposing forces, but impossible to truly separate.

#asks*#every time i put something under a read more i’m like oh god no one is going to click the button

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trustymikh · 1 year

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I think that Giovanni’s Persian is a bully, Archer’s Houndoom being her main target even though he’s being a good boy

#I know that Gio's Persian is a male in games but gamefreak is wrong #she is Gio's little princess and her name is Miette #she hates Archer and Houndoom by extention #also she does the classic cat thing where she sits in the middleof the hallway and gets mad when smb tries to pass by #mik draws #pokemon persian #giovanni's persian #houndoom #pokemon houndoom #archer's houndoom #pokemon #fanart #pokemon fanart #digital art #digital drawing #drawing

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recurring-polynya · 5 months

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Who wants a post about 🎶spirit phones??🎶

lol, j/k who doesn't want a post about spirit phones?

So, me and my kid have just hit the Advance Team filler, specifically #128, the first of the episodes about the Whistle Hollow, and it gave us some really good looks at everyone's spirit phone, starting with Matsumoto's fantastically be-dazzled, magenta model. It looks a lot like a Motorola Razr or a Nokia 6133. I'm gonna assume she managed to get it in a premium color and then decorated it herself.

Next, we see Hitsugaya's, which is not quite the same model, because Matsumoto's has the square external display, and his doesn't. Are they different model years, or does he have some sort of fancy captain model?

I also think it's interesting that his display features an actual map (left), instead of this absolutely incomprehensible crap Rukia's phone gave her back during the Quincy Archer Hates You! Hollow Bait debacle (right).

Here's the real reason I made this post because what the Hell is that, Yumichika??? There were lots of slider phones available at the time, but you didn't usually hold them vertically like that. Is it a T-Mobile Sidekick? (I had a friend who had one of these and it was so extra)

As far as I can tell, Ikkaku does not have a phone, Yumichika handles the telephony in the relationship.

Renji is not in this filler episode for some reason, but we see his phone a few episodes later, in 136. It's pretty hard to see here, but there are some better shots of it back in the Bount Arc, and I think it's pretty clearly the same phone.

It looks pretty similar to Matsumoto's, but his has a light just below the external display that blinks and beeps to indicate Hollow activity. Also, it's lavender.

Rukia has already left for Soul Society at this point, but we got a good look at her phone in the Bount Arc, which appears to be the same one she had in the Agent of the Shinigami Arc, down to the Chappy charm on it.

It looks very similar to Renji's, including the blinky Hollow light. Hers seems to have a grid of dots below the light. I think Renji's may actually have that, too, but the animators were too busy lovingly drawing his tits and pretty braid to worry about air flow to his spirit phone battery. (I support your life choices, nameless Pierrot animator!)

Here's the interface to Rukia's phone, which is significantly different from Hitsugaya's.

Normally, I would accuse Hitsugaya of having some older or cheaper model of spirit phone, but his actually looks significantly nicer than everyone else's (except Yumichika). It definitely looks like Rukia and Renji have the same model (I keep going back and forth over whether or not they are the same color. Rukia's def reads as grey to me and Renji's looks more lavender to me but idk. Maybe it's a trick of the lighting). Matsumoto has a similar, but not identical model. I feel like my takeaway from this is that shinigami have to buy their own phones-- Matsumoto splurged a little on color, Yumichika splurged a lot on rizz, and Rukia and Renji appear to be at the mercy of Byakuya's family plan. I feel like Hitsugaya didn't even have a phone before this and bought one expressly for this mission, which is why his is nicer than it would otherwise be.

#spirit phones #advance team arc #toshiro hitsugaya #rangiku matsumoto #yumichika ayasegawa #ikkaku madarame #renji abarai #rukia kuchiki #i got my first cell phone because i was going to an academic conference across the country I FEEL YOU hitsugaya #i think it might have been a motorola razr actually #why do spirit phones use the same iconography for the battery meter and signal strength as human do? this is the real question

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wongyuuu · 7 months

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seventeen as song from lover (ts)

a/n: for this, i'll be giving songs and lyrics to each of the members, as well as small plots based on those lyrics. i don't plan to write all of these, but they are still my ideas (as basic as some of them might be). so if you are interested in writing one of them, you can message me about it. if you want to read one of them you can send in a request and i'll write for you

• Seungcheol ➝ Cruel Summer Fever dream high in the quiet of the night You know that I caught it (Oh yeah, you're right, I want it) Bad, bad boy, shiny toy with a price You know that I bought it (Oh yeah, you're right, I want it) ↳ Seungcheol was infamous, the bad boy like you see in the movie, and god you wanted him.

• Jeonghan ➝ Afterglow This ultraviolet morning light below Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh↳ Jeonghan was never one to lose his patience with people, least of all you. But one day a fight gets out of control and it leaves you wondering if your relationship has come to an end. ↣ read here

• Joshua ➝ Lover And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years? ↳ you’re scared you might be falling in love a little way quickly for Joshua

• Jun ➝ Cornelia Street And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away I'd never walk Cornelia Street again ↳ A year after the end of your relationship with Jun, you go back to the small apartment you used to share. To your surprise, Jun is next door to you.

• Hoshi ➝ Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince I counted days, I counted miles To see you there, to see you there It's been a long time coming, but ↳ one day you got a letter in the mail by mistake from someone named soonyoung. You spend years going back and forth with the letters until you finally meet each other.

• Wonwoo ➝ False God I know heaven's a thing I go there when you touch me, honey Hell is when I fight with you ↳ you and Wonwoo never fought before, at least not to the point where both of you were screaming at each other.

• Jihoon ➝ The Archer I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you ↳ for years you had a one-sided crush on Jihoon. You planned to confess your feelings many times but failed at every single opportunity.

• Minghao ➝ London Boy Show me a gray sky, a rainy cab ride Babes, don't threaten me with a good time ↳ Minghao is always one to see the beauty where most people see none, so when he drags you out of your apartment on a particularly rainy day you don’t complain, sure that whatever it is that he planned is a perfect date.

• Mingyu ➝ Paper Rings I hate accidents, except when we went from friends to this ↳ Mingyu had always been your best friend and that line had never been crossed before, then, one day, you woke up naked in his bed with a vivid memory of the previous night. ↣ read here

• Seokmin ➝ I Think He Knows He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans It's like I'm 17, nobody understands No one understands ↳ there was nothing in the world you loved more than Seokmin’s smile.

• Vernon - You Need To Calm Down And I ain't tryna mess with your self-expression But I've learned a lesson that stressin' and obsessin' 'bout somebody else is no fun ↳ nothing can make Vernon mad but you’re adamant about proving him wrong

• Seungkwan ➝ Death By a Thousand Cuts I get drunk, but it's not enough ’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby ↳ in which Seungkwan drunk calls you, his ex, and finally tells you all the feelings he kept to himself for months.↣ read here

• Chan ➝ Daylight I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night And now I see daylight ↳ it was impossible not to compare Chan to a ray of sunshine, especially after he was the one who brought you back to life

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @ho34gojo, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @mhlsymlysn, @swinterr, @immabecreepin, @uniq-tastic, @miriamxsworld

if you were tagged, please consider reblogging

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

a/n: somehow three of these could become smut and i'm thinking of writing them that way

#k-labels #seventeen imagine #svt imagine #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #hong joshua #moon junhui #kwon soonyoung #jeon wonwoo #lee jihoon #xu minghao #lee seokmin #kim mingyu #chwe hansol #boo seungkwan #lee chan #taylor swift

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helion-ism · 3 months

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so, after two years I have finally written something again. it's actually one of my new year's resolutions to start writing again, just a little at least, to get into it again. I will probably also edit some of the things I wrote in the past and re-post them again because I had a phase where I deleted almost all of them (just girly things 🤪)

anyways, this is what I came up with. hope you enjoy!

thanks, @lucienarcheron for reading and offering advice 🫶

rating: mature

word count: 3,207

or: read it on ao3

archer and prey

She could feel his wicked grin on her skin as she whimpered in response, leaning back against his hard body, leaning back against his hard body, his kisses lazy – without haste. Her head fell on his shoulder as his clever hands moved to her waist. He held her firmly and with care. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

All she felt and needed to feel was this pure heat he was offering her, this fire he was responsible for that was burning low in her body and threatening to consume her. And Elain could not stop herself from shivering, repeating with a hushed voice, “Please, please.” He chuckled at her impatience.

But he rewarded her the next moment when his tongue was on her neck, drawing circles. And his lips – his perfect lips – moved against her sensitive skin, though never increasing the pace. She liked this torture more than she would ever admit. Liked how he seemed to relish in taking his time with her, too.

His hands were on her thighs, his fingers burrowed in her skirts, hoisting them up little by little. He wasn’t close enough to where she wanted him, and Elain propped herself against him with a force that surprised and delighted him. He laughed and her stomach clenched at the sound.

More, more, more.

She might have said the words aloud.

Lucien’s hand moved to her neck. It might be his favourite part of hers, she thought, with the way he always kept returning to it. He caressed her collarbone, lay his fingers around her neck, and squeezed lightly. Elain gasped as she felt his hard length at her back, his fingertips gently turning her head to face him. She looked at him and the rugged scar that graced his face.

Wicked, wanton, wild.

“Please,” she whispered again and lifted her head to meet his lips. She wanted to make him lose his composure, make him forget his purpose for a second. She kissed him like she had never kissed him before, pressing against him, her hands up in his long hair, tugging and pulling. He groaned and Elain felt the sound in her core – but it wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him everywhere forever.

Lucien’s hand went to the back of her head, tilting it to have better access to her, his tongue now occupied with her own. He was in charge and taking over, deliberately slowing his movements yet again. She snarled, and he laughed again, this time louder. Her head was spinning.

Lucien’s other hand moved to her hips, turning and hoisting her up onto him. Elain’s head fell back at the pressure of him against her core and started to move slowly, leisurely against him. She felt so good, breathing his name in painful need. He was wearing too many clothes – she needed them off.

“You’re mine,” he purred, his lips on her collarbone, sucking until she felt a pain so good, so sharp –

Elain gasped as she bolted up from her bed. Breathing hard and fast, she placed a hand on her chest, willing herself to calm down. She let it happen again. This dream, this fantasy she could never shake off, no matter how much she told herself she hated him in the daylight. It was only in dreams she said his name these days, allowing it to roll off her tongue only then when no one else could hear.

She felt like a traitor. To Feyre, to Nesta, to herself.

To him.

She tried so hard to not think of him, even when he was in town. Even more so when he was out somewhere on the Continent with that human queen. Did not allow her thoughts to ever wander and wonder. Yet, at night, when the stars sparkled in the sky and the winds moved the sheer fabric of her curtains into her bedroom, her traitorous thoughts returned to him.

She knew it wasn’t fair to anyone. Not to either of them but especially herself. She had promised herself a thousand times to not let it bother her, this feeling that seemed to grow day by day. She thought perhaps that was why this body, this altered mind, now urged her to go to him, to touch him, even if only in her dreams. But she understood that loneliness was a burden she could not get rid of at night even if she could pretend it disappeared under the bright sun of Velaris. She blamed him for it.

Elain shivered as she pushed aside the covers of her bed and walked to the open window. Her feet were cold on the wooden floor, but she didn’t mind. It cleared her head. Velaris looked beautiful at night and she wished it could give her the strength Feyre drew from it. She wished it could be enough that she wanted to fit in. Wished she could feel like Nesta did after suffering for so long. But wishes were not enough and with each day passing, the feeling of isolation and desperation grew inside her and made her restless. Made her feel more alone.

Elain sighed and leaned her head against the opened window frame. She closed her eyes.

It could be so quiet here, at night. And only because the city was asleep and she couldn't be caught did Elain let herself think about her dream once more. She had stopped counting how often she awoke in the darkness, wishing to be close to him. Most of the time, the dreams were like this: slow and passionate, feeling too real. Like he was right here, behind her, worshipping her. She could almost smell him, taste him on her lips. She opened her eyes to stop the pain threatening to squeeze her heart until only tears could help her get rid of it.

Sometimes Elain woke because he touched her pointed ears and that was not something she could even accustom herself to in her dreams. Sometimes it was because she peaked, twisting in her sheets and waking up satisfied and yet yearning for more. She wondered how that was possible when she could not remember how his touch felt on her skin. Other times, it did not get that far. It was words that drew her from her subconscious.

Lucien wasn’t in Velaris. But she knew he was on his way back to the Night Court, to report on whatever it was exactly that he was doing out there for Feyre and Rhysand. She prohibited herself from caring every time someone uttered his name in her presence and hated her body for not complying. Elain wondered if on the mornings that followed nights like these, when she couldn’t go back to sleep and waited for the sunrise – she wondered if Feyre noticed. If that was why her sister studied Elain with a wariness that followed her through the rest of the day. But her sister never said a word.

Feyre likely suspected Elain would shut down the conversation, never admitting to anything. And how could her sister, with her perfect baby, and perfect mate, who she had accept with love in her heart, ever understand? How could anyone? Nesta once could, but Nesta loved Cassian. Nesta had friends and a purpose. She had a home.

Elain had that once, too. With Graysen. She almost did, anyway.

She sighed, sliding to the floor and letting her chin rest on her knees. It would be a long night as she longed for the day.

---------------------------------------------------------

He was here, she realized.

In the townhouse.

It was barely dawn.

His heart beat loudly in his chest and his scent – like a summer morning brightening the day – filled up the air. Elain couldn’t breathe as all of her senses focused on him – an instinct she wasn’t sure how to work against. She hadn’t actively decided to leave her room, yet here she was. He noticed her a few seconds later, looking up the staircase with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth.

He was so beautiful, she thought. It was unfair.

“My lady,” he said.

Those were his first words after months of utter silence. She wondered if his being here meant he had freed the firebird and was back in Prythian for good. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

Elain furrowed her brow. “I live here now,” she replied and hated how quiet and unsure she sounded.

“I assumed you would be with Feyre and Rhys –”

“I thought it would be best to give them privacy. As a young family.”

Her heartbeat matched his. Could he still not hear it?

He was silent. She thought it was the most they had spoken in ages. His eyes scanned her from top to bottom as she gripped the ornate railing. As she squeezed it like she might bend it underneath her frail hands.

“You look well,” he said then, a hint of a polite smile on his lips. She swallowed and Elain did not think it could be more awkward. “I’m sorry for disturbing you in your home. I figured I would recommend the townhouse to meet with Feyre not to … barge in on you, and she didn’t mention anything about you being here. I am here for business.”

“Business,” she said slowly, frowning. Of course, Feyre hadn’t said anything to him.

But before she could say anything else, the door opened and Feyre rushed in. Elain stiffened while Lucien seemed to relax.

She suspected he hated being here. She didn’t let herself think of what else he might have hated.

Feyre lit up as she hugged him. “Lucien, I didn’t realize you were here this early!” She glanced up at Elain and cringed slightly. Elain said nothing. Feyre likely had planned on warning her.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied softly.

And Elain didn’t hear what Feyre said next as everything grew louder in her head. Like water rushing right above her and into those sensitive ears. The duo moved to the parlour and Elain found herself following them slowly.

The door wasn’t closed, so she supposed she was welcome, especially when Lucien didn’t tear his eyes away from her as she entered the room and found herself by the window. The sun was hidden behind dark clouds.

The weather seemed to match the mood of her mate.

He seemed to have anticipated the arrival of Rhys and his brother and still, his mood worsened. He may have moved slightly closer to her.

“Am I interrupting?” Eris said, grinning widely at Elain, who, in turn, frowned at him. She didn’t know what to think of the redhead. Something about him unsettled her. He looked so different from Lucien. His nose was sharper, his skin paler, and his eyes seemed to take in everyone in the room at the same time – as if he was used to paying attention to every single person in his vicinity. Like he didn’t trust anyone here. Elain could hardly fault him for that.

“Be quick about it, Eris,” Lucien hissed and Elain watched Rhys step behind Feyre, kissing her on her cheek. Her stomach tightened painfully.

“Oh, brother, how have I missed you, too,” Eris snickered. He took a seat in the armchair closest to the fireplace. “Does your firebird miss you already?”

Elain froze at his question, well aware that everyone’s eyes were on her. The room was shrinking and every little noise, the fly on the windowsill, the birds chirping outside, Eris’s breathing, was getting louder and louder and louder. She wanted to cry and she didn’t know why.

She still remembered how difficult moments like this had been in those first few months. After she had surfaced, scared and shaking, and Lucien had made his way to her. When she had arrived at the Night Court, Feyre gone, Nesta blazing, and everything had been too much, too loud, pungent. It had been Lucien, surprisingly, who understood and offered the advice she desperately needed. She had clung to the windows of the house, praying for peace and quiet, praying for her old life to come back to her.

“Close your eyes when it gets too overwhelming in this new body,” he had said. She had blinked in response and looked at him. His brutally beautiful face had looked like he understood. She hadn’t seen how. “Make sure to breathe in deeply, and I mean, deeply. Down to your navel. Then hold it, and breathe out slowly. Close your eyes and block out the noise by focusing on one thing. Be it a bird chirping or footsteps outside.”

She hadn’t replied, and Lucien had stood, bowing, to leave again. This, Elain, had to admit, had helped more than the healer’s poking and touching. She didn’t have to tell him that it was the sound of his heartbeat, or the memory thereof, that she often used to calm herself down. Even now, with so much time having passed. She didn’t know why these Fae senses were taking so long for her to get used to.

Now, her ears focused on the steady, yet agitated beat of his heart. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.

The noises disappeared as she continued to breathe deeply. She looked at Eris, surprised to see his eyes observing her, not his brother.

“The firebird,” Lucien spat, “is still a firebird and unless you have helpful information for breaking her curse, I suggest you tell us what you came here for, brother.”

Rhys chuckled and sat with Feyre on the couch, obviously trying to calm the flared tempers. He looked suspiciously at ease, but maybe that belonged to the artful skillset of a High Lord.

Her sister rolled her eyes. “We’re not here to discuss Vassa, Eris.”

Lucien ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw and Elain couldn’t help but look back at Lucien, but he was staring at Eris.

“I am here to discuss my father’s death.”

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Then –

“You mean you are here to discuss treason,” Feyre said quietly as Lucien remained silent.

But Elain could hear him clear and loud. He did not want to be in this room. She saw flashes of blood on a dark floor, she saw a red forest and a head on the ground. A thin, red-haired woman crying in a beautifully decorated parlor.

“Treason,” Eris grunted. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“We told you, we cannot get involved,” Rhys said slowly. But he leaned forward like he had had the thought, too. Lucien noticed and clenched his fists.

Elain’s heart ached, and she hated herself for following him into this room. Hated herself for getting herself into this mess and to witness him like this – agitated and internally pacing. Did he want to return to his home? Did he miss the sight of those colourful trees?

“Mother would like to see you again,” Eris simply said.

“He will kill me on sight,” Lucien’s voice was quiet and emotionless. Somehow Elain knew what her mate’s brother would say next. Feyre did, too, as she straightened her back and looked at Eris with narrow eyes.

“Not if you bring your mate – both of you protected by the Night Court and her being Feyre Cursebreaker’s sister, he would not dare.”

Silence.

“You have lost your mind,” Feyre said at the same time as Lucien snarled, “Over my dead body.”

Eris wanted her to be a distraction. To be a piece in his chess game as he played his way to the position of a High Lord. Rhys was silent, but Elain’s irritation with Eris grew. He knew, she realized, when to press which buttons. Her brother-in-law understood too, what Elain had learned in this moment.

Feyre was watching her with worried eyes and Elain felt a darkness brush against her mind, but she recoiled from it. She barely could form any coherent thought and did not want to have Feyre invade the chaos inside of her.

“Elain.” Lucien’s voice was gentle and she looked at him, his golden eye whirring frantically. He looked ill while Eris seemed to be enjoying his moment. Elain clenched her fist and faced Eris.

“You cannot decide to use me and expect me to oblige. You cannot drag Lucien into this simply because it is convenient for you. This is your mess.” She was oddly proud of herself for saying those words without shaking. The anger, a burning flame ignited in her heart, made sure of that. Rhys smiled. As did Eris.

“Maybe it is. But surely you and Lucien have a desire to see him gone. After all, you are a princess of the Autumn Court now.”

Lucien’s eyes turned cold, perhaps for the first time in his life. “Elain is a free female. The Autumn Court is nothing to her. As it is to me. We are not going to help you commit treason. I will not risk her life like that.” His words were clipped. Elain didn’t understand why Rhys and Feyre stayed silent.

“What of mother?”

Lucien narrowed his eyes. “What of mother?”

“You know I will do it either way. With or without the Night Court’s help. I understand their … reluctance to assist me. Despite my continued assistance over these last months.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Eris continued, “I will do it and should I fail, what do you think becomes of our mother?” He looked at Lucien and Elain swore she saw a flicker of vulnerability show on his face. Perhaps another form of manipulation. Her heart ached nonetheless.

“He will punish her,” Eris added and looked at Elain. “If they won’t help me save my mother, you certainly could, Elain. I will forever be in your debt.”

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Lucien turned livid and tried very hard to restrain himself and not tackle Eris off the armchair. His brother was holding on to the armrest as if he was aware of that. Elain didn’t hear what Feyre and Rhys were saying, but their anger was palpable.

Elain knew, she knew, that Eris was a mastermind, but she believed him. She believed that he wanted nothing more than to see his mother in safety. Elain didn’t know their father, but given Lucien’s hatred for the Autumn Court, she could only guess what evil he was responsible for. She again saw puddles of blood on the floor. Did blood stain marble?

It irritated her that Eris used her to force Lucien to play by his rules. He clearly did not want to step a foot inside his home again, but everyone in this townhouse knew that if Elain went, Lucien would follow. Perhaps that was why she said, faintly but clearly enough for everyone to hear, “Fine.”

“I will go but not for you,” she said looking at Eris with a frown, then back at Lucien. His face had paled. Elain didn’t really know where it came from, she had certainly not expected the day to go like this. Seeing Lucien, seeing his brother, and saying things she never would have expected herself to even think. “I will go for your mother. No one should be left at risk.”

#elucien #elucien fic #maria writes

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midnightlizard · 3 months

Text

Dance?

Kate Bishop x gn!reader

Summary: You ask Kate to dance, but you didn't want to dance. But she says yes, so now you have to dance.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

Word count: 656

"will you do the honor of dancing with me?"

She turned her head at your question, seeing your almost kneeling form with your hand extended to her, the person talking to her giving a short goodbye before leaving you alone.

"you want to dance?" the archer asked, emphasizing the first word, a knowning glint in her eyes and an amused smile on her lips.

"ok" she said simply, drawing a step closer to you.

You straightened your posture, retreating your hand, letting it fall to your side. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out, making Kate's smile grow bigger. You definitely weren't expecting this outcome. And as if she was reading your mind she added, "you didn't expect me to say yes, did you?"

"no, I actually didn't" You answered, making her giggle.

"honey I know you hate dancing as much as I do, plus, you are totally incapable of dancing" she accused. Ignoring the warmth in your chest because of the pet name, your blinked your eyes fast and put a hand on your chest, causing Kate to roll her eyes.

Again she advanced towards you, until your chests were mere centimeters away from each other, and extended her hand

"come on, take my hand"

You tilted your head, uncertainty clear on your face, not moving from your position you spoke up

"you know what? I changed my mind"

Her teasing smile now turned into a soft and encouraging one.

"let me guide you, you won't mess it up"

She offered, making the desicion for you and taking your hand in hers, putting them in the air. Grabbing the other hand, she put it on her waist, and placed her own on your shoulder, starting to sway to the rhythm of the music.

It was only a few steps and your hand already left her body for about five times to adjust your hair, an unnecessary move, but the darked haired girl didn't pick up on your real motives, or if she did, she decided not to comment on it. Instead she circled your wrist and put it back in its original place "keep your hand on my waist"

You nodded, her soft voice doing something to sooth your nerves. If she tried to make conversation after, you didn't notice, hyper aware of all the people dancing or looking at you, especially one-

"hey! (Y/N)!" she whisper-yelled, making you raise your head, looking in her eyes.

"are you nervous?"

"uh, kinda? I mean-yes yes I am" you nod your head, blabbering on your words. At this Kate squeezed your hand searching for your eyes, indicating she was waiting for more.

"they're looking at me, at you, all of these people, your mother is looking at us and I'm almost tripping with every step. You shouldn't be seen dancing like this-shouldn't be seen dancing with-"

"(Y/N)" she called, stopping you from your rant, and your dance at the same time.

"(Y/N), stop it's okay. They're not looking at us and even if they are, let them look, we're hot" the archer shrugged, giggling at her own joke before she continued "and without you I would be standing in a corner somewhere, bored out of my mind, so don't stress out, mh?"

The brown eyed girl barely waited for any sign from you and spoke up

"don't look at the floor, look at me, no need to rush and don't focus too much, just follow my steps"

And you started doing just that.

"see? You're doing great. You had the perfect teacher after all" She tried to play it cool.

"you never danced in your entire life!" You replied, rolling your eyes and nudging her nose with your own. Har act broke, looking into your eyes, soft smile on her lips, and you were finally able to forget about everyone in the room but the one that was in your arms.

Kate Bishop Masterlist

MCU Masterlist - General Masterlist

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader

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thepinklink · 8 months

Text

“C’mon, Vet, it’s just a scratch,”

Twilight tries to reassure the fussy Veteran as he presses his hands against the recently acquired puncture wound in the Rancher’s abdomen.

“This is hardly a scratch, Rancher,” Legend snaps, switching to just one hand as he rummages around in his bag. “You’re bleeding out.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” Twilight teases, and it’s true. “I’m not bleeding out, just bleeding a little much for our comfort.”

“I’d rather you weren’t bleeding at all,” Legend’s face is set in a grimace as he pulls his hand out of his bag with a thick square of gauze. “No potions; think I gave my last one to the champion.”

“Fine, it’s not a potion-worthy wound anyways,” Twilight replies. “Other people will need one more than me.”

“You’d better hope not. If I’m out of potions, chances are everyone’s out of potions.”

Twilight winces at that. He’s right; Legend always carries more potions than everyone else, true to his nature. Movement behind the Veteran catches his attention and he sees a bokoblin drawing back its bowstring.

“Vet, watch it—!” He yanks Legend down to the ground, flinching at the thwack of the arrow against the tree he’s leaned against.

“Good catch,” Legend thanks him quickly before pulling out his sword and charging at the ‘blin. “Don’t you dare stop applying pressure to that!”

Twilight grins. Ever the worrier, Legend is, and he’s been worse after the rancher’s brush with death back at the inn. Well, everyone has, but he’s noticed it most in Legend. The prickly, snarky Veteran, who has out-adventured them all before the age of eighteen, has turned out to be quite the caretaker.

Even now, Legend doesn’t stray far from Twilight’s position against the tree. After killing the bokoblin archer, he’s fallen back to a defensive position just in front of Twilight, and none too soon—another wave of monsters bombards teh once-peaceful clearing and the Veteran has his hands full defending the vulnerable Twlight.

As for the Rancher himself, he quickly begins to feel guilty. The stab wound isn’t anywhere he’s ever been stabbed before. Even if he is tasting blood and bleeding a tad bit profusely, he should be able to fight. But when he tries to stand up, he ends up getting dizzy and sitting back down heavily. It takes him back to when the dark lizalfos first hurt him, further urging him to get up and fight—he doesn’t like having to sit here as the anxiety of past events nags at him.

It becomes unbearable when Legend gets thrown across the clearing by a moblin and doesn’t get up immediately. Twilight is on his feet faster than he realized, almost sprinting towards Legend’s position, sword drawn. His wound throbs violently but adrenaline masks it well. Twilight yells as the Moblin raises it’s club above the Veteran’s stirring form, and throws his sword at the creature’s back, effectively catching its attention.

It turns, looming over Twilight and obviously burning with rage. Twilight, having lost his sword and being remarkably unprepared to be barreled over by a creature twice his height, turns to at least distract it long enough for Legend to get up. He leads it back towards the tree he was just under, and is almost there when a sharp stab of pain through his gun sends a shockwave through the rest of his body. He must black out for a second, because when he tunes back into the world, he’s lying on the ground and the Moblin is dead.

He sits up and almost immediately regrets it when the world starts spinning and his gut erupts into searing pain. He inhales sharply, triggering a coughing fit that ends with blood on his hands and dripping down his chin. He hates the why his heart races at the memory of the last time he was coughing up blood.

Evidently, he isn’t the only one having flashbacks. Sky is kneeling in front of him, gently slapping his cheeks to get him to focus. Twilight smiles at him reassuringly. This has nothing to do with the dark lizard. He won’t resist potions or fairies this time, because it’s a regular wound. He grasps Sky’s hand, trying to get him to realize this isn’t like last time and there’s no need to worry. Not as much, at least.

“I’m fine,” he rasps. “You have to help the Veteran.”

“Captain’s got him,” It’s Sky’s turn to reassure. “Just hang in there, okay?”

Twilight can do that, easy. He must be more drained than he realized, though, because the next thing he knows he’s being woken up, despite not recalling when he fell asleep. There’s a bandage wrapped tightly around his middle. The battle is over by now and the clearing is silent, everyone gathered around him.

“We’re ready to move on,” Sky says softly. “Can you stand?”

He’s quick to nod, and even though it hurts he’s able to get to his feet. He searched around for Legend, and finds him, seemingly asleep, and being piggy-backed by Time. The bandage hides the wound on the side of his head but not the blood that runs from it.

“Is the Vet alright?” Twilight asks, and Sky nods, and then hesitates.

“Well…he’s not dead, but he’s got a pretty bad concussion. We’re out of potions and fairies, so we’ll need to find a town, and soon.”

“Portal,” the call comes from up ahead and only Wind seems to have the energy to bemoan it. One by one, the battle-worn and weary heroes resign themselves to their fate, and walk through the portal without a word.

* * *

Hylia herself must have decided they deserved this break, because they were let out at the front gate of Twilight’s very own Kakariko Village. They’re able to get their hands on a couple potions—it is unfortunately in the middle of the night, so they’re only able to get a few using Twilight’s reputation as the town hero—and several people’s conditions are improved. For the first time in awhile, the heroes spend the night in beds and no one is in too much danger of dying—although, Legend’s concussion is bad enough that Hyrule insists on watching him through the night, even after he’s given a bit of potion, just to be sure.

The night passes without incident, however, and the next day they purchase almost every potion Kakariko has to offer and Twilight finds himself, completely healed, sitting on the edge of his bed, enjoying the peace and quiet.

A knock on the floor interrupts the silence, and Legend enters. He leans against the bedpost next to Twilight, and is quiet for a moment.

“Thank you,” he says presently, “for saving me.”

Twilight smiles. “Of course. I’m always happy to help preserve your life.”

They fall into a slightly awkward pause.

“I should also thank you,” Twilight remarks. “For taking care of me.”

Legend shrugs. “It wasn’t much. Just a piece of gauze. Didn’t even do that much to help in the battle, I managed to get myself a concussion and if Sky hadn’t stepped in, you’d be dead.” Twilight hears the bitterness in the statement.

“You did a lot.” Twilight says. Legend raises an eyebrow, and Twilight is ashamed to say he can’t think of anything regarding that particular battle that would disprove Legend’s point. “It meant a lot to me, anyways.”

“Glad to help,” Legend nods.

Another pause.

“I…guess I should say sorry.”

That catches Legend by surprise. “What for?”

“I could have been more accepting of your help. You were just looking out for me and I tried to reject it.”

“Because you wanted someone else to get that help,” Legend shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re apologizing for protesting out of selflessness.”

“Well…no, no one really needed the help at the time. I was just in denial, I didn’t want to admit I’d gotten hurt and couldn’t fight. Again.” Twilight frowns, once again remembering the last battle that nearly killed him.

“Water under the bridge,” Legend says breezily. “I’ve done it before, we’ve all done it before, we still do. It isn’t in our nature to be useless, especially not in a fight.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Twilight snorts. “Anyways, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Don’t let it weigh you down.”

The ease with which the Veteran gives out his grace makes Twilight smile.

“You’re a big softy, you know that?”

Legend glares at him sharply, feathers obviously ruffled.

“Shut up,” he mutters. “I already have the Sailor calling me soft, I can’t have you doing it too.”

“It’s technically too late.”

“Shhh.”

“At least I know why your dark world form is a rabbit.”

Legend’s glare turns murderous. “I’m going to bury you.”

“I love you too.”

“Almost dying has made you almost as insufferable at the Captain, you know that?”

Twilight just laughs.

#this has been sitting in my writing app for awhile #it isnt the best thing I’ve ever written #but it’s sweet #enjoy!!#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu legend #lu twilight #link writes

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apollogies-p · 4 days

Text

Prompt: Missed Target

This is beyond late, but it's my first time participating in toapril sooo 😭 (this is literally based on the first prompt, and I'm barely now doing it-)

If this seems unfinished, it's because it is!! This seems like a good place to end it for this prompt, but the next one is going to centered around another prompt!! (Also ik this is like vaguely following the prompt, but I promise the next part will be better 😭😭🙏🙏)

@toapril-official

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Every story he was told had a great hero, strong and king, yet always flawed, and it was those flaws that were their downfall. He thinks that those stories are only told to enforce fear into mortals, a clear message to never challenge a god's lest, you know the consequences.

But he wasn't a regular mortal, was he? It was evident in the way the nymphs looked him, both terrified and awed.

Besides, he wasn't stupid, hushed arguments between his father and father's sister left little to the imagination.

But then, if he wasn't a regular mortal, then what was he?

All these thoughts crammed in his mind made practicing ten times harder, not that he was any good anyways-

Nock. Draw. Loose.

The arrow was too fast for his eyes to comprehend, but he was certain he had that time. His posture was perfect, and his archers point has never been better-

Thwack!

His arrow was embedded in the boss of the target. No where near its intended target.

"Chiron-"

The frustrated scream ripped that through his throat had him sliding off his arm guard and throwing his bow across the grass.

"What's the point!?" Whipping his head towards his father, his eyes drank up the sight of his tied up gold hair and his stupidly perfect bow, all golden and shiny and just perfect.

And he hated it. He hated how perfect Apollo was, how he always managed to read Chiron like an open book.

"Oh, Chiron, everything will be okay. You just need more practice; you've only been at this for three weeks, my dear centaur."

His father was on his knees, something he always he whenever he wanted Chiron to listen. His eyes swarming with pity and Chiron hated it, he was so angry and the tears that welled up in his eyes only made him angrier.

"Don't call me that, I'm not a baby anymore."

The soft chuckle from his father partnered with the fond look in his eyes made Chiron's stomach curl, "No I suppose you're not but you are just eleven. You know, most normal eleven year old mortal boys go out and play in the sun, they don't spend hours practicing archery like you do."

"But I'm not a normal mortal boy, am I Lord Apollo!? For Hades' sake I'm not even your son!"

Chiron regretted it the moment the words left his lips but he already did it, he couldn't go back. He can't backpeddle now and he's just so angry.

But Apollo loves you, and you know it. You don't deserve the attention of an Olympian, you're a spoiled little foal that got too used to being pampered and now there's no turning back-

"Chiron?"

His father's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he carefully opened his eyes. (When did he close them?)

Chiron couldn't stand the worried look etched on his father's face. Apollo prided himself in his youth and with his furrowed brows and the deep frown lines, he looked older than he ever let himself look.

He took a step back, then another, until his father's face was no longer close to his.

"Chiron? I'm not angry I promise you!" A soft sigh and father was no longer kneeling, "I'm sorry I never told you but, but I was scared- I was worried." Apollo's careful steps forward led to Chiron's careful steps backward and it was like they were dancing, maybe they always were, they've been dancing around this subject for a decade.

"I found you Chiron. You were just a few weeks old and I couldn't stand to leave you in the mercy of Echidna's children that lurk in the night." This, Chiron knew and father knows that so why is he repeating it?

Another sigh escaped his father, this one unsteady and tired, "You're Kronos's son, Chiron."

It felt like Lord Poseidon himself sent wave after wave to drown him. His knees buckled, but his father was there in an instant to cradle him on the grassy plain.

"I know this is hard Chiron but I promise you this has never, not ever changed the way I love you." Warm hand cupped his face and the blurry figure that was his father met his eyes. "You are my son. No one will ever change that."

Chiron wanted to believe him. He really, really did but the anger in his stomach raged on and his father's comforting words did nothing but smother them in guilt.

"No." With gentle hands, he pushed his father away, but the god wouldn't budge. "No!" Using his front legs, he kicked at Apollo's chest (ignoring the pained wheeze that came from his father), and with (much) effort, he brought himself to his feet.

"No! You lied to me. You were," Chiron licked his lips, the realization left his mouth dry. "You were scared of me! Did you just, did you just assume that I'd hurt you or Lady Artemis or- or Lady Persephone?! Just because of who my father is?!" Hot tears ran down his face, and he couldn't be bothered to wipe them. His pain brought Apollo pain, and that's all Chiron wanted.

"I hate you! I hate you! IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou-" choking in own tears and mucus, he turned around and ran. He ran straight into the dense forests surrounding their little clearing.

"Chiron! Chiron!" His father's voice was nothing but a whisper now.

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#apollo #chiron #toapril #trials of apollo #pjo hoo toa #toa #im so sorry this took so long #toapril creations

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