#fractured shield

[fractured-shield]

OC traits/emotions

Rules: if you had to describe the driving force behind how you write your oc’s personality, what qualities would you choose?

Idhren- grief, guilt, despondency, love

Therien- frustration, uncertainty, idealism, loyalty

Oenith- practicality, tenacity, stubbornness, nervousness

Waith- hesitancy, self-discovery, anger, independence

Malin- heroism, remembrance, dutifulness, reassurance

Maithyr- dedication, vengefulness, impatience, conviction

yeah I kinda wanted to try making a tag game of my own I think? The idea for this one came to me last night as I tried to like…find the core of how I write these guys idk. No idea if if anyone else’s brain works in a way that this would be a useful exercise though

tagging: @honeybewrites @orions-quill @the-golden-comet @finickyfelix and anyone else who wants to join in!

[thingsasbarcodes]

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. 2x06 - A Fractured House

[mmmthornton]

"I got you, dude"

***

The Freedom Pals finished their route by taking out some sixth graders that were hassling kids outside the movie theater. One of them landed a kick on Tupperware's torso that cracked the container under his left arm.

He was starting to walk away when Toolshed tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey! I got something for that. May I?"

Almost before Tolkien knew what was happening, Stan slapped a neat stripe of high-quality duct tape up one side over the crack. "Oh man, thanks Toolshed!"

"Yeah man, I got you! Here, lemme get the other side so it looks like a style choice."

***

Some days later, most of the guys were waiting in Tolkien's living room for their various rides. Stan was standing around talking with his friends and was about to walk outside where it was snowing...in just his Toolshed t-shirt. Toolshed felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey man, you need something going out there, its cold out. Take this!" and Tolkien pushed a jacket into his hands.

"Aw, I don't need it, I'm across the street anyway Its no bi-"

"Just put it on man, you can't fight crime if you get sick."

Toolshed relented, and zipped the jacket over his shirt. "Thanks man. ... Hey, it kinda goes with the look."

"If you like it it's yours. I uh, got two jackets for Christmas." Human Kite noticed out of the corner of his eye a shopping bag stashed near the door that looked like the same brand as the jacket.

"Cool, thanks dude!"

Yeah, I got you."

***

While working on an upgrade to the Tupperjet, Tupperware nearly broke a window trying to remove a stripped screw. "Damn....Hey, 'Shed, do you have a pinhammer I could use to get these out?"

"Yeah, I got you, one sec."

"Thanks dude!"

***

"Tupperware, I need some protection for the wrist drill attachments; I can block when they're not retracted but otherwise the track gets janky. Got anything I could use?"

"Sure, I got you! My mom made spaghetti last week and we've got plastic thrown out in the recycling bin."

"Sweet, thanks 'Tups!"

***

Professor Chaos' minion set off a self-destruct that just caught Tupperware in its wake. He's shoved backwards by the blast and waves his arms vainly, falling backwards-

-and one hand finds Toolsheds glove, solidifying into an iron grip. The handyman hero hooked his measuring tape to a tree and caught them both in time before they went over the edge.

"I got you, dude!"

Mosquito came running up, grabbing Tupperware's other arm and pulling them both up to stable ground. He complained later to Super Craig how Tolkien didn't even LOOK at Clyde when thanking him for the rescue. His attention was occupied on someone else.

***

The meth-addicted hobos that had ambushed the team on a mission to the old mall parking lot weren't the brightest enemies they'd faught, but their blind druggie rage packed a powerful punch and all of them were feeling the effects. Toolshed knocked away two in one blow with his drill ground attack, saving Mysterion from yet another messy death. In the process however, he didn't see the one coming up behind him from under a tarp...

"I got you, Toolshed!"

...Before Toolshed knew what was happening, he was standing near the other side of the mostly-cleared battlefield as an electric *hum* and soft blue light faded around him. He saw where he'd been standing, Tupperware was surrounded by the same glow as his advanced shields met the druggie attack and deflected it to a harmless rattle. Moments later, The Coon pounced claws-first and finished the fight. Toolshed didn't react when his chubby friend in a fursuit commented that he needed to do better at watching his ass...and then murmured that he was more concerned with someone else's. Ass, that is.

***

"...So anyway, with the 3D Printer my dad just bought, we have basically limitless options for supplies and gear! Toolshed and I found a site that translates manufacturer specs into three dimensional plans for easy customizing and building. We printed a logo that attaches to Professor Timmy's wheelchair wheels that doubles as a shock absorber. How cool is THAT?"

Around the table of the Freedom Pals, everyone clapped politely except for Toolshed. Toolshed grinned widely and clapped the loudest, proud of their shared achievement.

***

After the meeting, Kite, Mysterion, and Coon approached Professor Timmy's chair.

Kyle cleared his throat.

"Heyyy, Professor...Would it be possible for you to help us with something?"

If it is within my immense telepathic and psychokinetic powers, and doesn't get me in trouble with my mom, of course heroes. What do you need that my powerful brain can help you obtain?

The Coon leaned into Mysterion's ear. "I know Timmy's head was big to begin with but geez..."

"Uh, yes, thank you Professor!" Kite continued. "See, we are friends with, um, Toolshed and lately he's seemed...distracted. Could you maybe use your powers and tell us what exactly his - er, deal is?"

There's silence, and Timmy's gaze turns to the other side of the room. Tolkien is out of his Tupperware suit and is leaning over a drawing Stan is showing him. "So, I got to thinking after seeing the 3D printer at work, maybe I can incorporate some kind of glue gun attachment? I have the heating elements already installed like so, and maybe-" The conversation continued in depth as the two boys excitedly went over plans and ideas that their shared knowledge and ability could actually make possible.

Timmy turned back to Kyle, not even bothering with the telepathy. Instead, he rolled his eyes at the three friends. "Timmy?" He gestured with his hand at Tolkien laughing at a joke Stan made, and the way he visibly seemed to glow brighter when Tolkien's hand clapped his shoulder. ".....timmy."

Kyle sighed and crossed his arms. "Yeah...I guess we didn't really need your powers either."

Cartman put a hand to his face. "God, that rich asshole better not Yoko our crew here."

Mysterion shrugged, and smiled from deep within the cowl of his hood. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for them baby blues?"

The other boys all nodded sagely. "Timmy timmy. Tim-may."

"That was beautiful Professor."

"Yeah, well-said," Coon leaned forward to check on The Human Kite's expression. "Well? Should we interfere?"

Human Kite for a moment didn't seem to hear his companion. A few seconds passed however, and he smiled. "Nah, I think he's got this."

***

[rhyliethecaterfly]

What If Toolshed Gets Fat After Eating Cream From Alcremie's G-Max Finale

[kory-anderss]

20 adrianne palicki icons

under the cut is 20 100x100 icons of adrianne palicki as bobbi morse in the agents of s.h.i.e.l.d episode ‘a fractured house’. screencaps were taken and edited by me. please like or reblog this post if you use them. part 1 is here!

[dean-belongs-with-lisa]

“I am different! I’m trying not to be but I am!”

That scene is heart breaking. Poor Fitz

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[mariasont]

Give This Old Man a Heart Attack - A.H

a/n: incredibly self-indulgent per usual because i'm the biggest cry baby to ever exist

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you make a mistake that almost gets you killed and hotch has a few choice words about it

warnings: slight angst, happy endings, established relationship, you're in trouble, suggestive ending nothing crazy, hotch is a sucker and gives in way too easily to you

wc: 0.9k

You were an idiot. You were so utterly stupid, and you could feel the heat coursing through you, prickling at your fingertips and scorching your ears. You had braced yourself for this moment all day, but the sheer anger in Hotch's eyes was something no amount of bracing could shield you from.

You were quite accustomed to his eerily tranquil expression, often misleading, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Today though, you were the focus of that discerning stare. 

"Do you understand that gravity of your actions today?"

You were fighting every urge to cry. Confrontation had always been your Achillies' heel, a fact that seemed laughable given your line of work.

You weren't talking about the type of confrontation that came with gunning down unsubs or running into burning buildings. No, it was the intimate kind, the kind that involved the disappointment in the eyes of those you cared about, those you respected, especially him.

So here you stood, tears simmering at the edges of your vision, your hands fidgeting and folding over themselves, knuckles whitening with the pressure.

Your lips parted, ready to speak, to defend yourself, but the rising lump in your throat held the words captive. Silence seemed like the better choice, so you offered a nod instead.

Hotch's hand briefly obscured his face, thumb and middle finger pressing against the bridge of his nose, as he cast a handful of documents onto his desk. They landed haphazardly, a chaotic reflection of the mistakes you made on this case.

"You could've gotten killed." Each word was forced out between clenched teeth. Never a good sign. "In fact, you were this close."

You felt his assessment was inflated, but now was definitely not the right time to point that out. You swallowed the rising retort and cautiously shifted a fraction closer to the desk, eyes flicking to the closed door behind you.

"I'm sorry, Aaron," you said softly, voice betraying the slightest fracture. "It won't happen again."

The sound of your strained syllables caused his head to jerk up. Contrarily, you recoiled, bowing your head into your chest as you feigned interested in the carpet's intricate threads. It was an interesting color. 

You failed to register him circling the desk. Not until the space between you was nearly nonexistent. The toe of his shoes just within your field of view. They were semi-brogue oxfords. His favorite.

The accumulated emotions of the week finally broke through, your shoulders trembling as you frantically brushed away the mortifying tears with your sleeve, only to feel his hands on your shoulders, drawing you into his chest.

"No, no," you protested, but the resistance in your voice was absent in your actions, as you found yourself easily giving into the warmth of his chest. "Don't feel bad for me just because I'm crying."

He said nothing, just a faint hum that filled the space, the vibrations sending ripples across your cheek. 

"You—, you were reprimanding me," you paused to sniffle, "and I deserve to be reprimanded. I know what I did was stupid."

"It was." His hand lay on your back, thumb circling lightly through your dress shirt, nearly burning through the fabric. "But I'm not going to continue to berate you when I feel as though you've learned your lesson."

"You weren't berating me," you mumble against his shirt.

"I made you cry."

When you looked up, your saw the concern etched on his face, brows pinched, a frown marring his handsome face. His hands cradled your face, thumbs gently clearing the tears as you breathed out a sigh.

"I think you know me well enough to know that it doesn't take much to make me cry."

This was true. You kept your emotions were always close to the surface, whether from happiness, sadness, or sheer frustration. 

Once you had sobbed over the unequal lengths of your shoelace bows. Morgan then proceeded to ask if you had ever been tested for autism.

"It doesn't make it any more disheartening to see," he said, shifting his hands to rest on your shoulders. He looked tired and it made you want to cry all over again.

"Would you feel that way if I was Reid?" You asked. It was a loaded question. One you peppered him with often.

You had strived to draw clear lines between your professional and personal lives, but moments like this made it very difficult. 

He didn't even bother you with a response, and he didn't need to. You knew the answer.

Another quick look over your shoulder, and you pressed a swift kiss to his lips. There was a moment of hesitation from him, the stickler for rules that he is, but soon his restraint gave way, his hand seeking you with a desperate intensity.

He drew back just enough to study your face, like he was trying to commit every detail to memory, like he was making sure you were really there.

"You really scared me today," he confessed, your foreheads resting together as your eyes locked.

"I know."

"Please don't do that again," he implored, pausing only to plant another quick kiss on your upper lip. "This old man's heart can only take so much."

You beamed at him with a cheeky smile. "I can't make any guarantees."

As you headed for the door, he sent a quick slap to your ass, drawing out a bubbly giggle that vibrated through the room.

That old man's heart definitely might give out after what you had planned for tonight.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[juneofdoom]

What up, whump fam?!

June of Doom 2024 Prompts!

We've brought back some old favorites/ popular prompts from last year with a healthy dash of new!

Please feel free to participate with original or fan works of any kind (writing, photos, gifs, mood boards, videos, songs, whatever creative medium your heart desires!). You can do one or all of the prompts on any given day, and if none are to your liking, check out the alternate prompts!

Two rules this year!

As with last year, tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.

AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.

[AO3 Collection] - "JUNEOFDOOM2024"

Text list below the cut for easier crossings-off. And don't forget to tag @juneofdoom so I can reblog your awesome here! Have fun!

“Help me.”                                        | Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

“It didn’t have to be this way.”             | Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

“Well, well, well…”                            | Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

“Does that hurt?”                               | Impalement | Fracture | Punishment |

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”                 | Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration |

“They don’t care about you.”               | Flinch | Broken Promise | Abandoned |

“What happened?”                            | Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

“This is your last chance.”                    | Drowning | Chair | Prisoner Trade |

“I made a mistake.”                            | Accident | Acceptance | Blame |

“Can you hear me?”                           | Fear | Smoke | Phone Call |

“We’re out of time.”                           | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline |

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”        | Dehydration | Grief | Coma |

“Wait!”                                             | Sacrifice | Adrenaline | Cornered |

“What were you thinking?”                  | Surrender | Human Shield | Outmatched |

“Get me out of here!”                         | Rescue | Chainsaw | Presumed Dead |

“At least it can’t get any worse.”           | Secret | Stranded | Setback |

“You don’t want to do that.”                | Struggle | Blackmail | Desperate Measures |

“I’m fine.”                                         | Self-defense | Allergies | Headache |

“This can’t be happening!”                  | Sobbing | Straitjacket | Dissociation |

“I can handle it.”                                | Scrape | Panic Attack | Neglect |

“Let’s play a game. “                           | Stairs | Pressure Points | Trap Door |

“What’s the bad news?”                      | Poison | Bedridden | Cauterization |

“You’re doing great.”                         | Trembling | Gaslighting | Rules |

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”                  | Blankets | Stitches | Bandages |

“I should have listened to you.”           | Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

“Don’t lie to me.”                               | Rage | Choke | Paranoia |

“Or what?”                                       | Defiance | Display | Last Resort |

“Say something.”                               | Numb | Cold Shoulder | Gag |

“I’m so cold.”                                    | Delirium | Fever | Exposure |

“Breathe, damn you!”                         | Shock | Asphyxiation | Emergency Room |

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

“Who did this to you?”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not okay.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You poor thing.”

Attending Your Own Funeral

Broken Glass

Mask

Whip

Obedience

[fractured-shield]

made more picrews again oops

it kind of hits different to actually visualize it but damn, idhren's wife and the guy he was with* before her really could not have more opposite vibes. i mean except for the "they both died and left him behind to grieve" part

*warmaster maithyr was driven by revenge for his husband's death and trying to lead a war and wanted a physical distraction from both, which he found in the council mediator who was a convenient sparring partner already...idhren came to love him, and thought he could be content with being what maithyr wanted, knowing he'd never reciprocate. he broke it off shortly before the war's end, shortly before maithyr died

oh yeah i also made another therien one. this is specifically from when she has different armor for Symbolic Purposes for the last little while. the armor choice is actually a very heartwarming statement on her part

tag list: @just-emis-blog @orions-quill @honeybewrites @leahnardo-da-veggie @robin-the-blind-sniper-rifle

[tojisun]

price having to shove his fingers into gaz’s mouth whenever you let him cum inside you because of how loud he starts whimpering

im a mess on the floor that someones gotta mop me off atp!!

kyle’s in between john’s legs, his back pressed flush on his captain’s front, while you have been a marvel before them—riding kyle while john pets your lover throughout, callused fingers flicking at kyle’s pretty nipples, softly tugging at the jewelled piercings he’s got on. they glint with every fractured light, and john had been infatuated, unable to put his paws away.

kyle’s nipples are pebbled, sensitive, and john tugs at the rings again in tandem with every of your bounce—thighs shaking, your own tits a wild distraction, and your manicured nails flicking at your clit because kyle’s gone slack, unable to do it for you now that he’s oversensitive.

one particular thrust bumps his cock against your walls and you wail, almost toppling over. you had to stop, trying to breathe through the deep press of his length, its cockhead thick and breaching, your hole spasming around him. but your cunt is soft, drenched, and feverishly hot, and kyle is losing his hold. his orgasm peaks—

then it breaks.

he lets out a deep groan as he cums, his voice is a heavy reverb, and john has to stuff his fingers in your beloved’s mouth to keep him quiet. no one would hear, truly, not with how far and private john’s quarters are, but it is such a dizzying idea—john plugging up kyle to shut him up—so he does it, almost in a daze. he digs his fingers into kyle’s tongue, feels the vibration of his moans rippling from the inside of kyle’s mouth, and placates your wailing lover with nuzzling kisses.

“shh, little bird,” john murmurs. “be quiet f’me, won’t you?” kyle gargles something unintelligible and john chuckles, fully endeared.

he flicks his eyes up to you, asking despite the silence. you’ve yet to cum and being pumped full of kyle’s seed has made you increasingly needy, razing your body with pinpricks of desire that is so ever-bloating, but you wait quietly, obediently, knowing that your captain will be the one to take you until you are weeping and begging for a reprieve.

(the three of you know, anyway, that ever since your escapade with the captain, no one else could make you cum because there is no one that can replicate his… dominance, sure, but mostly his presence. how it’s so overwhelming and intoxicating; terrifying, almost, with how you always felt irrevocably small before him. how you felt so seen no matter how much you try to shield yourself from his eyes.

john fills you up, in a way that is more than a weeping cock. he fills up that gaping chasm within you that aches for someone to—

well—

to take over. to take care of you.

to possess you.)

john’s other hand is still massaging your hip, a gentle sort of appreciation, so you take over the worship done to kyle’s chest; kiss-swollen lips peck at his buds, before pearly teeth tug at the barbells.

kyle jumps, lurching, and john has to restrain him again. you giggle, a little breathless thing, because another weak spurt fills you up, kyle’s cock pulsating throughout.

god, you want more.

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader

Cannibal chooses his rider

The battlefield was a chaotic swirl of fire and steel, the air thick with the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. The clash of swords and the roars of dragons filled the sky as the Targaryen civil war, known as the Dance of the Dragons, raged on. Aemond Targaryen, riding his colossal dragon Vhagar, was a fearsome sight as he soared above the fray, his one remaining eye scanning the ground below for his next target.

Aemond's heart beat with a fierce hunger for victory. He sought his niece, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, a reminder of the rivalry that had fractured their family. The sight of her, a symbol of the enemy, filled him with a cold resolve. He urged Vhagar lower, the massive dragon’s shadow casting a pall over the battlefield, and spotted her below—alone and vulnerable, her silver hair a stark contrast against the dark armor she wore.

He grinned, a sharp and cruel smile. This was his chance to deliver a devastating blow to Rhaenyra's cause. As Vhagar descended, the ground trembled beneath the dragon's immense weight. Aemond could see the panic in the soldiers' eyes as they scattered, leaving his niece isolated. He reveled in the fear he inspired, the power he held over life and death.

But as he prepared to unleash Vhagar's fiery breath upon her, a sudden roar pierced the din of battle. It was a sound unlike any other, a primal, fearsome bellow that seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. Aemond's eyes widened as he turned, his gaze snapping towards the source of the sound. A shadow, darker and more menacing than Vhagar's, blotted out the sky above him.

It was Cannibal, the wild and untamed dragon of legend, feared even by other dragons. A dragon so fierce and untamable that it had never been ridden, until now. The massive beast swooped down, its black scales glistening in the dim light. Its eyes, a piercing green, locked onto Aemond's niece with an almost sentient awareness. Cannibal roared again, a challenge and a warning, as it positioned itself between her and Vhagar.

Aemond hesitated, momentarily taken aback by the sudden appearance of Cannibal. He had heard tales of the wild dragon, but seeing it in the flesh was a different matter entirely. Vhagar, too, seemed unsettled, growling low in her throat. For the first time, Aemond felt a flicker of doubt. Cannibal was an unknown quantity, a wild force of nature that could not be predicted or controlled.

On the ground, his niece watched in awe and confusion as Cannibal landed before her, its great wings stirring the air into a frenzy. She had always admired dragons from a distance, respecting their power and majesty, but she had never imagined encountering Cannibal, the most dangerous of them all, in such a way. Yet, as she stood there, staring into the dragon's eyes, she felt a strange, inexplicable connection. It was as if the beast recognized something in her, something kindred and ancient.

Cannibal lowered its massive head, and she hesitantly reached out, her hand trembling. The dragon did not recoil or growl; instead, it seemed to accept her presence, leaning into her touch. A surge of emotion welled up within her—fear, awe, and a strange sense of belonging. It was as if the dragon had chosen her, recognized her as its rider.

Aemond, seeing this interaction, felt a surge of anger and fear. He knew what was happening—Cannibal was bonding with his niece, a wild dragon choosing a rider for the first time. He couldn't let this happen; it would be a significant advantage for Rhaenyra's side. He urged Vhagar forward, intending to stop this bond before it could fully form.

But Cannibal was faster. With a roar that shook the very ground, the wild dragon reared up, its wings spreading wide to shield its new rider. Flames erupted from its maw, creating a barrier of fire between them and Vhagar. Aemond was forced to pull back, shielding his eyes from the intense heat. Vhagar snarled, frustrated and enraged, but even she seemed hesitant to challenge Cannibal directly.

On the ground, his niece climbed onto Cannibal's back, her heart racing. She had never imagined riding a dragon, let alone the legendary Cannibal. Yet, as she settled into place, it felt natural, as if she had been meant to do this all along. The bond between dragon and rider was forged in that moment, strong and unbreakable.

Aemond watched in frustration and disbelief as Cannibal took to the skies, his niece safely astride the dragon. He had lost his chance, and worse, his enemy had gained a powerful new ally. As Cannibal ascended, Aemond knew the tides of the war might very well be turning. The wild dragon and its rider would be a force to be reckoned with.

But as Cannibal and his niece disappeared into the clouds, Aemond felt a cold determination settle in his chest. The war was far from over, and he would not be bested so easily. He urged Vhagar to follow, but the wild dragon had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him to seethe with frustration and anger.

For his niece, the bond with Cannibal marked a turning point. As they flew together, she felt the wild, untamed power of the dragon beneath her, a power that was now hers to command. She knew the war was not over, and that there were difficult battles ahead. But with Cannibal by her side, she felt a renewed sense of purpose and strength. She would fight for her family, for her mother, and for the future of the realm.

And as they soared through the skies, the once-wild dragon and his new rider, it became clear that the Dance of the Dragons had taken on a new and unpredictable dimension. The flames of war would burn hotter, and the outcome was now more uncertain than ever. But one thing was certain: the Targaryen princess, bonded with Cannibal, would be a force to be reckoned with, a beacon of fire and fury in the cold, uncertain times to come.

[slytherinslut0]

Lorenzo Berkshire- Through Rain or Shine

Info: you’d had a tough couple of weeks, and needed to find a way to relieve the numbness in your chest. when your forever friend unsurprisingly joins you, the two of you finally admit your feelings for eachother, after all those years.

Word Count: 3.8k

Tags: 18+, smut, fingering, kissing, themes of mild depression, praise kink, fluff, so much angst, childhood best friends to lovers trope.

In the quiet solitude of your dorm room, the weight of exhaustion pressed upon you like an invisible force, each day's relentless grind etched into the lines of weariness on your face. The past weeks had been an unyielding onslaught of books and notes, every waking moment dedicated to the pursuit of academic excellence, driven by the burning desire to excel in the impending owls exam.

The recent breakup with your boyfriend had cast a shadow over your world, pushing you deeper into the solace of your studies. Nights blurred into early mornings as you immersed yourself in the expanse of your textbooks, seeking refuge from the echoing emptiness left by the now-fractured relationship. Distractions became your lifeline, a shield against the lingering pain that clung to your chest like an unwelcome weight.

As the culmination of your efforts approached with the passing of your owls exam, a bitter relief settled in upon the conclusion. Yet, despite the temporary reprieve, the ache in your chest persisted, an unyielding rock crushing against your lungs. Caffeine and sleep proved futile against the overwhelming exhaustion that permeated your mind and soul.

And on yet another seemingly mundane night, a symphony of raindrops assaulted your window with an angry rhythm, a stormy punctuation to the warm spring night. Beneath the cocoon of your sheets, you lay motionless, your gaze fixated on the rivulets tracing their path down the glass. Restlessness plagued your every toss and turn, a sleep-deprived mind refusing the solace of slumber.

And as hour after hour passed in the hushed corridors of Gryffindor Tower, you succumbed to a rebellious impulse, heedless of any potential consequences. Clad in only a pair of sleep shorts and a light long-sleeved shirt, you navigated the dimly lit common room, driven by a compulsion to escape, to just fucking break free for once. Troublesome thoughts of repercussions faded in the face of your overwhelming apathy, truly not giving one single fuck about what could, or would happen to you if you were to get caught.

The damp corridor led you to the entrance of the courtyard, where the angry rain battered against the aged stones. A deep breath filled your lungs with the crisp scent of the tempestuous storm, and as you stepped into the downpour, an electric warmth surged through your drenched body. The hard curtain of water enveloped you, washing away the numbness and invigorating your senses, a desperate attempt to feel something--anything--other than the weight of your weary existence.

In another brief stretch of madness, you descended, lowering yourself against the soaked, weathered stones beneath your feet. As your back connected, you felt the tension instantly leave your bones, a shiver dancing along your spine, a stark contrast to the warmth pulsating within. The rain continued its unrestrained assault, a cacophony of droplets drumming against your body and soaking you to the bone.

With each breath, the scent of petrichor mingled with the raw, earthy aroma of the surrounding flora. Your clothes clung to your body, a second skin saturated by the unrelenting downpour. The waterlogged fabric, though chilling, brought a visceral reminder of your exhilarated presence in this moment--a stark departure from the numbness that had gripped you for the last few weeks.

In the embrace of the storm, time lost its linear structure, and the weight of your weary existence momentarily dissolved. The courtyard became a sanctuary, a refuge where the boundary between self and nature blurred, and for a fleeting moment, you existed in a space beyond the confines of your troubles, surrendering to the elemental dance of rain and stone.

Until, suddenly, the ephemeral sanctuary of rain-soaked contemplation shattered abruptly as someone leaned over you, disrupting the elemental dance against your skin. Startled, you opened your eyes, squinting against the mingling rain and the sudden intrusion of the night. There, peering down at you with a mixture of concern and confusion, was Lorenzo Berkshire, your damn-near lifelong bestfriend.

His worried expression cut through the remnants of your momentary escape, and reality crashed back with a jolt. The rhythmic percussion of rain against stone now seemed distant, replaced by the urgency in Lorenzo's eyes.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" His voice pierced through the storm, the concern in his tone palpable. "You're going to catch a bloody cold."

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as annoyance rolled through you. The boundary between self and the outside world reasserted itself, and the refuge you'd found in the solitude had now entirely slipped away, all thanks to the presence of your wonderful, but admittedly infuriating bestfriend.

"Enz, for the love of all things magical..." you grumbled, stubbornly keeping your eyes shut against both rain and scrutiny. "Can't I just have a moment alone? Please, just let me be."

"I can't just leave you out here, especially when you're practically bathing in the bloody storm." Lorenzo's concern lingered in the air as he shook his head, raindrops scattering from the movement. "Come on...let's get you inside before you turn into a drowned owl."

You stubbornly shook your own head, now--your rain-soaked hair clinging to your face as a testament to your unwillingness to yield.

"Enzo, I need this..." you muttered, not ready to abandon the calm you had just found, only moments earlier. "Just-just give me a bit longer, please?"

Ignoring Lorenzo's outstretched hand, you clung to the puddled, uneven stones beneath you, a silent plea for solitude amidst the storm. At your denial, your best friends frown deepened, lines of worry etching across his forehead as he observed your silent resistance. The genuine concern in his eyes betrayed an understanding that surpassed mere words.

He knew you--knew the intricacies of your soul since the days when stumbling was a more common occurrence than walking. He knew this was not like you.

He crouched down beside you, raindrops creating a haphazard pattern on his shoulders. The bond between you two transcended the need for spoken explanations. As he rested a hand on your shoulder, a comforting weight that spoke of shared history, he sighed.

"You've weathered storms before, but this...it's different. You're different." His voice was soft, gentle, barely audible over the sound of rain slamming the stone next to your head. "I'm worried about you."

"I know, Enz," you admitted, almost reluctantly. Opening your eyes, you met his gaze, and in that moment, vulnerability hung in the air. "It's just...everything--the exams, the breakup...I needed a moment to drown it all out, but it seems the storm found me first."

Enzo's hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, a wordless reassurance that spoke volumes. Together, in that shared silence, you both acknowledged the profound truth--you weren't facing the storm alone. He'd simply never allow it. And then, without uttering a single word, Enzo lowered himself to the rain-soaked stones, settling beside you with a quiet understanding. The haphazard patterns of raindrops now painted both of your figures entirely, a shared canvas in the midst of the storm.

In the hushed ambiance of the stormy courtyard, shielded behind bushes and flowers, you shifted your gaze toward Enzo, silently appreciating the allure of his rain-soaked features. Long lashes, adorned with raindrops, sparkled like morning dew, tracing a delicate path along his rosy cheeks. There was a captivating ease in the way he simply basked in the warm rain, his handsome features unburdened as though he was simply reclining in the luxury of his bed.

Enzo had always embodied an enduring quality, a trait that defied life's intricate twists and turns--an attribute you had always found yourself inexplicably envious of. His carefree demeanor wasn't a recklessness that jeopardized education or safety; instead, it mirrored the carelessness of a child navigating their first steps or the unburdened joy of someone soaking up the sun after a harsh winter. He moved through life with a rare freedom, an effortless lightness that resonated deep within you.

For that, you couldn't help but love him--a sentiment woven into the fabric of your bond. No matter the trials life presented or the stretches of silence between you, you unfailingly found yourselves back together. Side by side, navigating this crazy thing you called life.

"I'm here," Enzo's voice shattered the silence, a gentle reassurance that jolted you out of your contemplative trance. It dawned on you that you'd been lost in the steady gaze of his rain-kissed features. "You don't have to talk to me...but I'm here."

Your response came as a slow nod, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering presence. The weight of his words wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, a reassurance that soothed every inch of ache in your bones. It was right then, that you realized, since he'd laid down beside you, the numbness in your chest had completely fucking vanished.

Turning your attention back to the sky, you shut your eyes, embracing the rain that pelted your face. Basking in the comforting silence, you whisper, "Do you ever think about the day we met?"

Enzo's fingers brushed against yours, a tender touch that spoke volumes as he replied, "All the time."

His response stirred a warmth in your chest, a gentle flutter that resonated with the shared nostalgia. "The day at the lake?"

His low chuckle, like a melody in the rain, accompanied his words, "When you stole my toy shovel and then pushed me into the water when I tried getting it back?"

“Oh, please!” An uncontrolled giggle bubbled from your lips as you countered, "that's not at all how it went."

Enzo's eyes sparkled with amusement as he awaited your correction. "Okay, then, enlighten me. How did it really go?"

"Okay, okay, maybe it did go a bit like that..." amidst laughter, you playfully explained, "but you were the one who stole my bucket first, Enz. I had to get you back for it!"

"Fair enough, angel, I might have started it." Enzo's laughter blended with the raindrops as he conceded, "I guess I had it coming.”

Smirking, you retorted, "You've been a pain in my butt since the day we met, Enz…some things never change, do they?"

Enzo's grin widened, and he retorted, "Guilty as charged. But you love me for it, don't you?"

His eyes, filled with a mixture of mischief and affection, reflected the depth of a connection that had weathered the mischievous escapades and grown stronger with each passing storm.

"How couldn't I?" you responded with a fond smile, your gaze locking with his. "With a smirk that irresistibly charming, you make it impossible not to."

"Can't argue with that, angel," he quipped, flashing his teeth playfully. "Charm has always been my secret weapon."

As your laughter faded, a pause settled between you two. Staring at him, a flood of memories cascaded through your mind--years of friendship, shared laughter, and the occasional drunken kiss that had always lingered like a quiet undercurrent. In that moment, you couldn't deny the feelings that had grown, evolving beyond the boundaries of friendship.

The courtyard, still bathed in the rain's embrace, became a silent witness to the realization that the line you'd hesitated to cross might have finally blurred beyond recognition.

"Enz...have you ever...felt, lost?" As you blinked, you glimpsed his lips, your voice a soft murmur as it left your throat. "Like everything you thought was solid, just…crumbled away?"

"Absolutely," he confessed, a soft sigh escaping him as raindrops adorned his lashes like jewels. "It's like the ground beneath you turns into quicksand, and-"

"You're unsure of what to cling to, because it feels like..." you interrupted, your eyes locking onto his.

"....it’s all collapsing alongside you," he finished, completing your thought with a shared understanding. "Absolutely, angel...absolutely."

As you paused, eyes fixed on his features, a rush of emotions surged within you. The realization of your profound affection for this boy, the depth of his unwavering presence, and the shared history you both carried became palpable.

The weeks of self-imposed hibernation in your dorm had isolated you from the world, but here, in the midst of the storm, Enzo stood by your side. His willingness to weather the rain with you, to share the weight of your troubles, became a testament to a friendship that had transcended time and circumstance. The unspoken understanding, the shared glances, all hinted at a connection that had weathered storms of both the heart and the skies.

"Enz," you murmured, the endearment slipping from your lips like a secret shared between kindred spirits. "Thank you, for being here...it means more than you'll ever know."

"You don't have to thank me, angel," he replied, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his rain-kissed lips. "We've always been in this together...through rain or shine--it's what best friends do."

In the quietude of the rain-soaked courtyard, a charged silence hung between you and Enzo. Your heart, like a captive creature, pounded in your chest as you found solace in the shared gaze. His brown eyes, an intimate dance of vulnerability and unspoken sentiments, darted between your eyes and lips.

And then, in an unexpected surge of emotion, the two of you moved as if drawn by an invisible force--his hands found your face, a gentle reassurance, while your own hands mirrored the sentiment, delicately grasping the back of his neck as you pulled him close. Lips collided in a shared moment of exasperation, a kiss that seemed to carry the potential to mend wounds. Enzo's soft, warm lips moved with a careful precision, as though he feared shattering the fragile connection by moving too quickly or being too rough.

A sigh mingled within your shared breaths, and the emotional tide of the kiss swept over you. In the midst of the courtyard's relentless downpour, the intimacy of the moment became a sanctuary. Emotions, sought when you ventured into the rain-soaked space, surged to the surface, rendering you more alive than you had felt in fucking weeks.

Enzo, breaking the kiss with a soft, lingering reluctance, allowed his lips to trail along your jawline. A whisper of breath brushed against your skin as he confessed, his words carrying the weight of years of unspoken desire.

"I've wanted to do that for years," he admitted, the revelation settling in the damp air around you. "...for so many fucking years..."

Your response came as an instinct, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him close with a magnetic urgency.

"Me fucking too," you whispered, a fusion of emotions flooding your voice, "why did we wait so long?"

Enzo's gaze, now intensified by the admission and the proximity between you two, held a mixture of regret and longing. He nestled closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke with a sincerity that echoed through the courtyard.

"I don't know, angel," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of missed chances and unspoken confessions. "Maybe we were both waiting for the right storm to finally let it all pour out."

"Mm--pour it out for me, Enz," you whispered, your voice a gentle plea. "Tell me where you've been...tell me where your heart is..."

With a shared understanding, Enzo gently urged you to lay back, guiding you back against the cool, rain-drenched stones. He positioned himself alongside you, his head resting on your chest, the closeness of his body providing a comforting warmth against the coolness of the courtyard. One hand cradled your head while his other traced a delicate path down your stomach, igniting your skin into flames. Inhaling a sharp breath, he confessed,

"Someone once told me that it all comes down to the last person you think of at night." His fingers teasingly traced the line of your shorts as he continued, "That's where your heart is."

As his words lingered in the air, a tender smile played on your lips. Your eyes squeezed shut, encapsulating the vulnerability of the moment. Your hands found solace in his hair, fingers gently petting as you embraced the emotional tide that swept over you.

"Mm-yeah?" you murmured, finding it challenging to stay fully focused on his words as his soft teasing fingers traced along your inner thigh. "And who do you think of?"

Enzo pulled his head from your chest, meeting your eyes with an intensity that cut through the rain-soaked ambiance. His gaze held nothing but pure seriousness as he uttered, "Can I touch you, angel? Please?"

A near mewl escaped your lips, your entire body buzzing with anticipation. "Please do, Enz," you whispered, the plea carrying a mixture of desire and vulnerability. "Gods, please-"

Enzo leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss as he inched his fingers closer and closer to the edge of your shorts. As he slipped his tongue past your teeth, gentle yet urgent, you found yourself practically holding your breath in anticipation, shifting your legs wider slightly to give him better access.

Without wanting to keep you waiting for much longer, his long fingers slipped past the edge of the soaked fabric, connecting directly with your heat as you weren't wearing any panties. You moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it eagerly, his fingers wasting no time at all before beginning to rub tight circles against your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightened, your entire body quivering and squirming against his touch. You lost yourself in sensation, moaning into his mouth as he manipulated you expertly, sucking in air through his nose as he kissed you like he could devour you. The cool raindrops on your skin contrasted with the heat building in your body, and you felt as if you were about to burst with pleasure, explode with emotion.

Breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily as he slipped a finger inside you while his thumb continued to rub against your clit. You arched your back against him, feeling every inch of his finger stretching you out as he drove you to the brink of ecstasy, whimpering as quietly as you could as the two of you blended into the darkness, curtains of rain acting as your shield.

"I think of you, angel," His lips found your neck, kissing and biting gently as he continued to work you with his fingers, building your orgasm dangerously fast. "I think of you before I sleep...I wake up and I think about you..."

Your hands shifted, fisting his shirt as you cried out in pleasure, raindrops falling around you in a steady rhythm. You could feel his lips on your neck, leaving wet kisses as he continued, "I think about kissing you good morning...I fall asleep while thinking about kissing you goodnight..."

"Oh...Enz..." the words sent a fresh surge of desire through you, and you arched your back involuntarily, trying to get closer to him. "Oh my Gods..."

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your ear. "You know I'm helplessly fucking in love with you, right?"

"Oh-fuck-" you moaned, louder than you'd expected as he increased his pace on your clit, his finger pumping in and out of you with increased intensity, sending your vision spinning. "Enzo-"

"Mhm...pretty girl..." he cooed as you tilted your head back, giving him better access to your neck, and he obliged by nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. "I fell in love with you back before knowing what love even was..." he placed sloppy kisses on your collarbone, nipping softly. "And I've stayed in love with you because no one...fucking no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

Moaning softly, you squirmed beneath him, unable to contain the growing intensity coursing through your body. Tears welled in your eyes, each word that escaped his lips resonating with a tidal wave of emotion, threatening to engulf you under the weight of your own heart. This overwhelming surge of happiness felt surreal, like a dream you never dared to believe could be real.

Suddenly, he slipped another finger inside you, stretching you out wider as his thumb continued twirling over your clit. You cried out in pleasure, the intensity of the sensation making your toes curl, your chest reaching for oxygen as though you’d been starved of it for years.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Enzo murmured against your skin, his lips trailing kisses back up to your jawline. "Does this feel good, angel?"

All you could manage was a nod; your breath was coming in short gasps as the pleasure built and built inside of you. The rain continued to fall down around you, a cooling contrast to the heat in your body, bucking your hips against his hand, becoming increasingly desperate for release.

"Good girl...so, so good..." he purred, kissing his way back up your jawline until he veered back and met your lips, pressing the plush entirety of his mouth to yours. "I continue to fall in love with you every fucking day because there's no one I could ever picture my future with, other than you..."

"Oh Gods, Enzo..." you could feel the tension building in your body, coiling tighter and tighter until you were practically vibrating with need. "I'm so fucking in love with you..."

"Mm," he purred, grazing his lips against yours. "Music to my ears, angel..."

As if sensing how close you were, he slipped a third finger inside you, his movements becoming almost frantic as he continued to rub your clit in tight, harsh circles with his thumb. Your body shook with pleasure, every nerve ending sparking with sensation as Enzo's deep brown pools drilled into yours, watching every slight ministration of your face as you teetered on the edge of pure fucking ecstasy.

"Fuck-Enz..." you moaned, grasping the soaked fabric of his shirt for dear life, squeezing it within your trembling fists. "I'm going to-"

He kissed you again, smiling against your lips. "Cum for me."

That was all you needed to hear; and with a sharp cry, you came hard, spasms of pleasure wracking your body, your vision blurring as pleasure washed over you in waves. Enzo continued to move his fingers inside of you, riding out your orgasm until you collapsed, panting and spent. In the aftermath, as you both caught your breath, the rain persisted, its cool touch soothing your heated skin. A comfortable silence enveloped you, a serene pause in the midst of the rain-soaked courtyard.

After a lingering moment, Enzo gently pulled you up to your feet. Gripping your face with a tenderness that echoed the shared vulnerability, he kissed you again.

"I'll be here for you," he murmured, his words a gentle reassurance. "When you're down, I'll hold you; when you feel like you can't get up, I'll support you. We'll navigate this at your pace, angel. There's no need to rush."

"We've been friends since we were toddlers--how much less rushing can we do?" Giggling against his mouth, you playfully teased, "I just want you, Enz. You've made all the pain in the last few weeks completely irrelevant in a span of an hour...it’s always been you.”

"Then have me, love," he cooed, his fingers entwining with yours. "Whatever you desire, it's yours."

[kory-anderss]

30 adrianne palicki icons

under the cut is 30 100x100 icons of adrianne palicki as bobbi morse in the agents of s.h.i.e.l.d episode ‘a fractured house’. screencaps were taken and edited by me. please like or reblog this post if you use them. part 2 is here!

[solbaby7]

Nothing Even Matters

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings: swearing, probably typos, some angst, mentions of trauma, some fluff

summary: When the only thing you want during your recovery is the very person who put you there in the first place.

[ part one ]

—

“How’s it feel?”

“Fuck you,” You seethe through your teeth, words slurred from the wires holding your jaw shut—only for a few days, they said with remorse but all you could feel was such all-consuming rage. Such intense anger because you couldn’t move your body how you wanted; your arm was stiff in the tight bandaging holding it to your body while the dislocation and fractures healed.

Azriel glanced over at Rhysand who was offering Madja a sheepish smile, hands tucked in his pockets as he stood beside you. “Believe it or not, that was a lot nicer than some of the other words she’s been stringing together.”

“She shouldn’t be talking at all. Healing from a broken jaw is no easy feat—talking before the bone properly sets can lead to us needing to rebreak it all over again.” The heated glare you send her way could’ve killed if they were sharpened swords and Azriel has to step in front of you to ease the stormcloud you were casting above the room. Madja doesn’t seem to mind, urging the spymaster to step aside while she began her assessment. “Follow my finger,” Your eyes narrow with hate but you comply after a beat of time. “Good, no noticeable neurological deficits,” She scribbles something in a notepad, noting down the amount of pain meds you’d been receiving and an update of your vitals. “Your swelling seems to have gone down significantly—does it still hurt when I touch here?”

The High Lord cringes at the stream of profanities that slam at the edge of his mind; an act you’d been subconsciously doing since the moment the tonics for the pain had worn off the first time three days ago. You’d shoved your anguish out as far as it would go, so hard Rhysand had choked on a breath, hands clenching at his sides as he put forth more effort than normal to keep his mental shields up. “She says yes.”

Your hand taps once at Azriel’s arm and when he looks at you, you give him a jerky nod of your head. “She wants to know when she can go home?”

Madja lowers the notebook, voice annoyingly calm and full of understanding; not deterred by your attitude in the slightest. In fact, she seems to expect it, smiling softly before speaking, “Have you been eating?”

Your hand slams down twice on the table before you.

It’s jarring; aggression was never something you’d displayed often, if ever, but Azriel only takes a step closer, nearly sitting on the edge of your cot with an arm wrapped around the back of your pillow.

“I’ll assume that’s a yes.” Madja continues writing, bullet pointing your behavior and way you reel in your snark for the shadowsinger beside you. “Have you been able to get to the bathroom on your own?”

Two more slams against the table but these are much harsher than the first, a cup full of water splashing at the sides and Azriel lets out a sigh. “Not on her own but she’s really close. The dizziness just gets to her when she’s standing for too long.”

Rhysand spares a glance at the towering frame standing in the corner behind them absorbing every word like a child experiencing the world for the first time. Cassian had been unbearably quiet, avoiding Azriel at all costs but he was the first who’d noticed you beginning to stir awake. He’d barely left, always getting caught with a rag and warm water, dragging at your skin gentler than fingertips on flower petals. Rhys had to knock Cass out himself when the med staff came to take you away, advising that the wiring was imperative but the General couldn’t stop screaming about how you’d already been through enough; about how you deserved a full day of peace before putting you through even more pain.

“Any other symptoms besides the dizziness?”

You hesitate, heated gaze faltering for a beat of time before you’re slamming your hand down once and Cassian waits a full thirty seconds; golden eyes boring into Azriel’s back, urging him to mention the nausea, the splitting headaches that had you gripping at the first hand you came in contact with for any sort of comfort.

But, Azriel doesn’t say a thing.

“That’s good, what about—“

“Headaches,” Cassian’s voice is raspy with such little use and he’s more than grateful for the brace preventing you from moving around too much because he’s certain one of those sickeningly sharp glares were being specially crafted with his name on it. “She gets headaches and throws up sometimes because of one of the tonics—it’s orange.”

Madja, ever the professional hums in acknowledgment, scribbling down more notes and a furrow grows at her brow. “Could be an allergy or maybe the mixture is too much on your stomach without solid foods yet,” She not even talking to you, just muttering her thoughts aloud while the others tense; awaiting your reaction. They wait for the ball to drop; wait for the throwing of the first item in sight. It wouldn’t have been the first time and Az’s shadows had gotten surprisingly good at predicting it, darkness darting before the window before you could smash it to pieces since Madja insisted she’d dock any damages from your pay. “Thank you, General, that was quite helpful.”

A full minute passes and still, there’s no yelling; no frustrated grunts or shouting in your mind—just utter silence and you’re too busy settling further into your pillow to notice Rhys’ curious stare.

“If you can manage no talking for seventy-two hours then I will clear you to finish your recovery from home,” You’re nodding before she can finish, Azriel gently pushing you back when you try to sit up in your excitement. “I mean it—I’ll know if you aren’t taking the physical therapy seriously. At least an hour of walking a day ; slowly so you don’t aggravate your ribs and I’ll take off the shoulder wrap if you swear not to do any heavy lifting of any kind.” You throw her a pointed look, a hand waving around to motion at the three men that had been permanently stationed around you.

“We’ll take good care of her.”

Madja exhales a steady breath, hands resting at her sides and way she regards you is nearly motherly; relief settling into her features when she can confidently say you’ll make it. “Then, I suppose you’re free to go.”

—

“Come on she said at least an hour.”

Azriel is a sturdy pillar before you, arms crossed and shadows incessantly tug at the thick duvet you’d been grasping at like your life depended on it since he barged in ten minutes ago. You grunt in disapproval, settling deeper into the mattress and you shield your eyes from the bright light steadily pouring through—even though you remembered closing the curtains last night.

“You’ve already skipped breakfast and lunch; it’s nearly three in the afternoon. Get up.”

Your inability to speak seems to work in your favor because all you offer Az in return is a hand peeking from the covers to flip him off.

A pause and one eye pries open when you hear footsteps retreating. Five minutes pass, then five more before you relax back into the fluffy pillows, dragging the covers up to your chin and a content smile curves at the corner of your mouth for a fraction of a second before your entire body is drenched in freezing cold water.

You lurch from the bed like a creature rising from the dead, feet bare and legs on full display when you slowly stare up at the pleased shadowsinger, eyes wide and arms frozen in surprise as you dripped all over the floor like a wet dog. “Good. Since you’re up and showered, let’s go downstairs and get you something to eat.” Azriel’s looping an arm in your own and leading you out before you even have time to change, sloshing footsteps left in your wake and when you enter the sitting room Mor has to slap a hand over her mouth to hide the laughter.

“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

It’s harmless teasing; friendly laughs and eyes lined with water when they mention the rats nest atop your head but Cassian’s boisterous laugh doesn’t join in on the fun. He takes one look at you and quietly leaves the room; he'd been doing that a lot since the accident—ever so present when you weren't consious and practically non-existent when you were.

You catch Feyre staring at the bruises on your neck, the thick bandage stuck in place on your temple, how stiff your posture was from the tight wrappings securing your ribs in place and she flushes when you offer her a tight-lipped smile, trying to appear more sturdy than you looked. "Sit, I'll get your food."

Eyes roll at Az's choice of words, easing over to the couch with a low grunt. Food was a sorry excuse for whatever the fuck you'd been sentenced to consume until the wires were removed. A thick porridge like substance with a distinct grit that lingered on your tongue no matter how much water you chased it with.

It was nice to be home though, to sleep in your own bed and being able to ease the tension with a hot bath and a stealthily stolen glass of wine—even if it was impossible to wash your hair or to change your clothes without assistance. Fresh air breezes through the windows, ruffling the curtains and the High Lord is quick to dry your clothes with a wave of his hand. With nothing more than a quick touch to his shoulder in thanks, the others watch you brace your weight against things to get to the hallway, turning left in the same direction Cass had gone earlier.

It’s not hard to find him, cooped up in his room with a glass of amber liquid in hand; eyes trained on the crackling fire. “What are you doing in here?” He’s up in a flash, wings pulled tight behind him and a broad shoulder urges your good arm around his neck, warm hands are careful when lifting you off your feet and carrying you over to the neatly made bed against the wall. Pillows are stacked behind your back to prop you up in a way that didn’t agitate your ribs and you give a sad smile when Cassian’s eyes linger on the bruises that were steadily healing up the length of your legs and he’s carefully covering them in blankets with a shaky breath.

Usually, he’d have sat next to you but now you’re unbearably aware of the distance he puts between you; hands clutched at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out to touch. “You eat yet?” A slow shake of your head and Cass lets out a little chuckle in understanding. “Not surprised, that shit’s gross. Az never was that good in the kitchen.”

Everything smells like him; male and musk, cedarwood and bourbon. It’s overwhelming in the best way and years of memories begin to flood your senses; countless late nights spent in here drinking and laughing about nothing. Lazy mornings with breakfast in bed and amused snorts over buttered toast and tea when the Illyrian boasted about his latest conquest or earned accomplishments but then would go sheepish when you’d genuinely told him you were proud of him—happy that he seemed happy.

Cassian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to meet your eye because you were gazing at him so lovingly; not an ounce of hate in sight and guilt bubbles in his belly like curdled milk. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make you something.”

A few minutes pass of you examining the room before you notice there’s a bottle of whiskey on the bedside table and your brows furrow in worry. You’re grabbing it without second thought, shoving the bottle under the bed frame and out of sight before you hear the thudding footsteps coming down the hall and through the doorway. A goblet of a glass is clutched in one hand with a metal straw hanging over the rim; he rambles off some of the fruits he used while he walks over, gently settling it in your hands. Fingers graze and in the blink of an eye he’s already taken three steps worth of space between you but the berry smoothie is a significant upgrade from Azriel’s porridge mixture—little wins. This was sweet but not too sweet, thick enough to quell the rumbling in your stomach and thin enough to push through the gaps in the wires with ease. It’s half gone quicker than you care to admit but Cass seems pleased, yet the small smile he wears is quickly wiped off when you motion for him to sit next to you.

“I can’t.”

Brows scrunch together in silent question, head tilting to the side.

His face crumples, features lined with stress and it’s then you notice just how broken he appears—sure, maybe he didn’t have the bandages and wrappings but the damage was still there. “Look at you, peach,” Tears well at the pet name, your head lowering as if it could possibly hide the ugly bruising on your neck; it was the only spot that seemed to be taking forever to get better, a kaleidoscope of purples and deep blues. “Look what I’ve done to you,” Breath catches and you ache to comfort him when he doesn’t even bother to hold his wings off the ground. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only moves closer when you set the cup down and make way to stand; it’s then he sits near you, urging you back down and you see the way his throat bobs with the thick swallow when your hand gently rests over his own. Words aren’t needed to express how much you didn’t blame him; not anymore—not after the nights he’d spent hunched over your bedside spewing out confessions of his feelings. The unconditional love that never stopping pouring over when it came to you and the shameful jealousy that had followed. Secrets he’d kept in fear that you didn’t return the same affections; terrified to ruin the carefully crafted friendship that took centuries to perfect. To become an extension of the other and adding his feelings seemed messy—too complicated and then all of this. You and the sounds of your cries for help permanently branded at the forefront of his mind for all eternity. Waiting in anticipation for Madja’s updates on your health, how you were fairing and if there was any lasting brain damage; a burden he was fully prepared to bare for you. Willing to sit by your side with his fingers kneeding through your hair to soothe away the headache he knew was coming in from the scrunch of your nose even after being pumped full of pain relievers.

It seems fitting that you can’t voice what you know; the pieces that you’d held onto while stuck in your mind. Body too numb to even pry your eyes open but the hope of hearing it while conscious was a strong enough anchor to have you clawing to the surface—back to Cass and those lazy mornings and tea with entirely too much honey.

He’s a mess when you pull him in closer, brushing your fingers through his hair the same way he’d done for you. You can feel the feather light kisses he presses to the exposed injuries, silent tears dripping on your skin, hushed whispers of his apologies, all the ways he’d planned to do in order make it up to you. All the things he should’ve and would’ve and could’ve done and you have to pry his face from the crease of your neck to make him look you in the eye.

There are no words but the intensity of your stare says plenty and he’s right back where he started; wanting things he shouldn’t and falling back into selfish habits. Leaning into the warmth of your mouth slotting over his own and every bruise and broken bone doesn’t even matter when he’s finally kissing you—soft and tender but all too quick and he’s pulling away before you can memorize the feel of him. “You’re perfect,” Cassian whispers, forehead pressed against your own, hands keeping you close. “I don’t deserve you for a second.”

But you only kiss him again because in that moment nothing else mattered.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

Honest?

Pairing: Dabi x reader

Summary: Lying always seemed to be the best way to navigate your attraction to Dabi. This definitely didn’t aid you after getting hit with a truth quirk

Warnings: slight smut/mentions of smut; a tiny bit of blood at the start; language; teasing;

Word Count: 2k

Your foot slid across the pavement, damp concrete aiding your narrow escape from your opponent's axe.

The weapon slammed into the wall behind you, making a small dent in the stone that had been a few centimeters behind your head moments before.

Glancing up, you watched them grasping the hatchet, the heel stuck within the wreckage. The struggle gave you a chance to sweep your leg under theirs, bringing them to their knees as you jumped up.

However, the force of their weight effectively pried the axe from the wall, it’s edge cutting through the fabric of your shirt and piercing the skin underneath.

“Shit!” You groaned, watching red bloom through the cloth, dripping past your elbow and onto the chest of your fallen combatant.

A bang sounded off from your left and your spun on your heels, watching Twice incapacitate some enemy that had sticks of dynamite for hair.

Maybe the quirkless didn’t actually turn out to be the least fortunate group that society made them out to be.

The distraction was just enough for you to almost miss the haywire explosive shooting straight for another one of your comrades.

“Toga!” Your shout echoed through the alleyway, making the blonde turn her head in question, giving her just enough time to sidestep away from the projectile. She giggled, turning back around to stab her own opponent in the shoulder. He let out a cry of pain as she waved in appreciation for your warning.

Fear shot through your chest as a hand slithered around your ankle, a final attempt to overcome you that was easily squandered with a kick to the nose.

Still, the sensation of your opponent's skin against yours left an icky feeling that trickled up your spine, almost like the area below your knee was tingling with infection. You tried to ignore it, glancing up in relief to see the rest of your team similarly victorious in this fight.

A rigid breath left your lungs, beating heart still hammering away.

The stroke of adrenaline slowly drained from your limbs, leaving a comfortably sound mind that pushed you to remember the scratch just above your elbow.

“Ouch! What happened?” You looked up, quickly shielding your bloodied limb from Toga's view. Her tone seemed falsely sincere, but it greatly clashed against the carnal excitement gleaming in those golden irises.

I’m fine.

“My arm got cut and my ankle feels kinda gross."

You blinked.

That wasn't what you wanted to say.

While this was hardly the worst injury that you had gotten over your time working with the League of Villains, you were never exactly one mention any of your personal problems regardless.

It was just easier to patch yourself up unaccompanied, not to mention your underlying anxiety regarding making yourself seem weak in front of your cohorts.

Of course, most of them weren’t the type to notice, with the minor exception of-

"What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dabi, despite his usually disinterested nature, was quite the perceptive individual.

Actually, it probably would've taken someone with the observation skills of an ice cube to not notice the confusion overtaking your expression.

Nothing, I’m fine.

The lie got caught in your throat, an unwanted truth quickly taking its place and pounding against your vocal cords. “I can’t stop talking."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What?"

"I can't stop talking. My mouth isn't doing what my brain is telling is to," you sputtered.

Now you were starting to panic, mind racing in sync to the pounding of the muscle in your chest.

Dabi, however, took a moment to ponder your words before striding over to your previous combatant. He nudged their crumpled form with the toe of his boot, getting nothing but a fractured groan in response.

Sighing, almost like the lack of answers pertaining to your well-being was of common inconvenience, he moved back to you, cerulean irises boring into yours. "What are you scared of?"

The words were almost immediate. "Abandonment and letting people down. But clowns are also pretty-"

Eyes widening, you slapped a palm over your mouth, an amused grin overtaking his. "Truth quirk. You'll probably be fine in a few days."

You exhaled in relief.

Honesty quirks were annoying, sure, but you weren't going to die and your brain wasn't going to melt or anything like that.

Wait...

"Days?" You jogged to catch up with him, Toga and Twice following closely behind.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Hiding something?"

No.

"Yes."

Fuck.

He clicked his tongue, feigned hurt lacing his tone. "Ouch, and here I thought that we were friends."

You were.

Kind of.

At least, in the way that villains could be friends.

He would bug you with teasing comments that border lined flirting on several occasions. In response, you would ignore him, sending a comparable quip back in his direction when you felt like it.

But for the most part, you tried to keep your distance.

Despite your current ally-ship, you would've been stupid not to recognize how dangerous he was.

The fact that you had found yourself vastly attracted to the man for quite some time definitely didn't help.

It was safe to say that you spent the rest of the walk back with your hands over your mouth.

While Dabi had become uncharacteristically quiet, much to your growing concern, your other companions had only seemed to become more talkative.

"Who's your favorite person in the league? It's me, right? It's pretty obvious." A strangled cry came from Twice's direction. "Why do you hate me?"

Toga tugged on the cuff of your jacket. "When we first met and I asked if we could be best friends and you said yes, was that just because I was covered in blood or did you mean it?”

All of those answers were muffled beneath your palms.

It seemed like an eternity before the league's hideout finally came into view.

But just as you were ready to slip past the door and book it upstairs, somebody grabbed your elbow, pulling you towards the bar.

"Come on."

Almost having to jog to keep up with his long stride, you looked up at Dabi in surprise. "Where are we going?"

"To make sure that arm doesn't get infected."

You stopped in your tracks, heels skidding against the worn floor panels as you tried to yank your wrist out of his grip.

Of course, he was stronger than you, annoyingly so, but stronger nonetheless.

He dragged you to a bar stool, forcing you into the seat by your shoulders with a scoff. You watched him trudge behind the counter towards the smart cabinet of medical supplies the League kept around before emerging with a small container of rubbing alcohol and some bandages.

“I’m…” I’m fine, it’s not that big of a deal, is what you wanted to say, but the words stuck to your tongue like peanut butter. You took a minute, attempting to find a happy medium between what you wanted and what was the truth. “I can take care of it.”

You reached for the bottle, fingers grazing the glass as he yanked it out of your grip, completely ignoring your statement. With his free hand, he grabbed your wrist once more with a quick roll of his eyes.

Even as you tried to squirm away, he let a steady stream of the liquid fall onto your arm. He looked almost bored doing so, eyes only flicking up as you hissed through your teeth at the burn.

Dabi let out a mockingly kind pout. "Oh, I'm sorry, princess. Did that hurt?"

Your answer, an undoubted 'yes', was muffled beneath a palm, the action making him grin as he picked up the gauze.

“I can finish.” You muttered quickly, almost like if you spoke less, you may be spared from saying something embarrassing. “Thanks.”

Surprisingly, he relented, but not without another eye roll, and let you fidget with the bandages.

"So quick to get rid of me, doll? Won't you miss this pretty face?" Dabi let out a humorless chuckle before moving to put the bottle back.

The comment was just for show. He was one of the cockiest individuals you’d ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on. He was arrogant and awfully flirtatious when it came to you, but it wasn’t very difficult for anyone who looked hard enough to understand that he was internally pessimistic concerning his own appearance.

Those scars littering his skin were clearly a sore spot for him, although he didn’t seem to give a damn about giving anyone who would make a snide comment the satisfaction of a reaction.

Usually, they would just end up as a pile of ash.

Of course, his own secretly insecure views made it quite easy for you to keep up the image of your general dislike of the individual.

Which made it all the more terrible when you immediately responded with-

"Yes."

If it was anatomically possible, you could’ve sworn your stomach turned inside out as you watched him freeze, cerulean eyes lighting up as he slowly turned around to face you.

"Excuse me?"

"I said that I'd miss your pretty face."

He blinked. “You think my face is pretty?"

Run me over

"Yes."

with a freight train

The horrid grin crawling over his features made you queasy.

You leapt off the chair, shoes slipping on the wooden floor as you dashed to the stairs, the sting of embarrassment nipping at your heels.

But he was quicker.

Dabi's hand slipped around yours, yanking your body back and pushing it against the wall. "And where are you going?"

Almost instinctively, your arm shot upward, your palm aching to cover your mouth. The attempt was one that was easily squandered, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging it upward before grasping both of your hands between one of his own. "My room."

"Why?" The smirk gracing his lips seemed to combat with the tension blazing in his eyes, quiet anxiety brewing for your answer, the one you would be forced to give.

"Because I like you and don't want you to know."

The silence that followed made you want to vomit, eyes burning with tears that you willed not to fall.

And then he was kissing you.

Fingers strewn through your hair, he pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing the gasp that followed his actions.

Your eyes flit to a close as you let Dabi take you, his hands slipping from yours to snake around your waist and push your hips together. Warmth sparks between your legs as his touch dipped dangerously beneath your pelvis.

A groan was forced passed your lips as he gave your left thigh a squeeze, smirking as he pulled away, palm still cradling your chin. "If you told me, we could've done this a lot sooner, ya know."

"Bullshit," You scoffed. "If you didn't feel the same, you would've been an asshole. You're always an asshole, actually."

Leaning forward, his breath tickled the side of your neck. You felt him grin, teeth nipping at the top of your ear. "Maybe, but I don't seem to have any issues turning you on. Isn't that right?"

"Yes." You looked down with a huff, shuffling your feet. "Whatever..."

He intertwined his fingers with your own. "Oh, come on, doll. No need to be embarrassed." With a small tug, he dragged you towards the hallway, barely missing the blue haired individual holding a glass of whiskey walking past.

Shigaraki raised his cup. "Where the hell are you two going?"

Dabi glanced down at you, a smile gracing his lips. "I don't know, princess. Where do you think we’re going?"

You were smart enough to know, but you sure as hell didn't want to say it.

Unfortunately, the man standing next to you didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"To fuck, probably."

The sound of your fearless leader choking followed you both up the stairs, your curses of annoyance bouncing off the decrepit walls and into his room, the door slamming shut with a bang.