#I miss you but not enough to relive the nonsense that was us

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 09

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

If that punching bag could speak, it would beg for mercy. Sweat heated my skin, and with every punch against the rubbery surface, an overstrained grunt sliced through the air.

"I think that's enough for today, Noah," someone said from a distance, but my focus was locked on the back-and-forth motion of my clenched fists, ignoring how they throbbed painfully with each strike.

This was the only way to unload everything consuming me without smashing my head into some random passerby while walking down the street.

The past few days couldn’t have been more hellish. I couldn’t write, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and all I was left with was being forced to see that woman at every rehearsal and act like she didn’t exist.

Impossible when she was everywhere.

"I just said it seems like enough for today, Noah!" The same voice broke the short space between me and the punching bag as it pulled me away from it. "What the hell is wrong with you today? You seem like you're on another planet!"

The trainer stood in front of me, arms crossed, while I slid down the wall until I sat on the floor. My chest heaved uncontrollably as I stared at his calves through the strands of sweat-soaked hair hanging over my face.

Training at night was good; I liked the empty gym, especially when I used it as an escape.

"My head's full of crap, that's all," I spat, removing the wraps around my fists.

"Anything I can help with?"

"Only if you can hit me hard enough to induce permanent amnesia," I tried to joke, but my voice came out more morbid than anything else.

"Actually... I might be able to do that!" The tall, bald man with bulging veins on his temples shrugged. "But forgetting, even temporarily, won't make your crap disappear."

"And who said I want anything resolved? The sooner everything goes to hell, the better."

I definitely didn’t mean to be so harsh, but it came out automatically, and he should ignore it. My good moods were so rare that, to him, this probably felt like just another normal day.

"It might be a relief for a while, but the body reacts differently than your mind. Even if your mind didn’t remember anything, you'd live with the feeling that something’s missing every time it relives memories, habits, interests, and tastes," he added. "Like when you touch an object and your body reacts instantly, or when you visit a place and your insides speak for themselves."

What utter nonsense, for God’s sake.

"Got it," I said, giving him a thumbs-up with a straight smile, as if that load of crap actually made sense.

"Fine, fine, call me crazy, Mr. Know-It-All!" He rolled his eyes, turning his back. My gaze swept the room, watching as he picked up gloves and bags scattered on the floor, placing them on the shelves.

Leaving the gym, I regretted not grabbing a jacket earlier as the wind hit me on the street. Walking to the parking lot, I unlocked the car with a click, and before getting in, I heard a brief cluster of voices in the distance. Turning around, I saw a group of four girls bundled up in band hoodies, phones in hand.

I couldn’t explain why, but a discomfort seemed to envelop me as they approached, realizing I wasn’t about to flee.

“Noah, would you mind taking a picture with us?” asked the tallest girl, her short hair tucked behind her ears.

Well, maybe there was no harm in that.

“Of course! Let’s do it!” I forced a brief smile as they gathered around me.

A guy passing through the parking lot helped take the photo, and I held the smile until he finished.

“Thank you so much, Noah. I hope you’re doing okay!” said another girl with colorful streaks in her hair, stepping aside.

“I am, thanks for asking.”

I just wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

It wasn’t that I hated my fans or anything. In fact, I’d always been able to separate those who genuinely appreciated the band’s work respectfully from those who felt entitled to my personal life, as if it didn’t belong to me or as if I wasn’t an adult capable of handling my own decisions.

But I couldn’t deny that most of the time, I wished to be a voice without a face. I loved writing music, I loved singing, and I never doubted it was for me since the first time I did it. I just wasn’t so sure that back then, I’d also wanted everything that came with it.

The way I felt uneasy in most recent social interactions made it clear how I felt.

“We just wanted to let you know that no matter what happened, we’re on your side. Always!” she emphasized, and my brows furrowed as my expression darkened.

“What are you talking about?”

“It was on a news channel—speculations that the Bad Omens vocalist’s overdose was her ex-boyfriend’s fault.” The information came with a phone placed in my hand. “They dug up videos of you two arguing at the festival, and now they’re blaming you.”

“They’re piecing together moments from shows where things seemed tense and comparing how she’s been since your breakup,” added a redheaded girl, taking the phone from my hand. “But we’re rallying in your defense. We know she was always the problem, and we won’t let her fans drag your name like that.”

Every misfortune seemed to fall short of what I deserved.

“Look, I’m sure you all have better things to do than worry about this,” I assured them, stepping back closer to the car. “I don’t need lawyers for the internet court. Take care.”

With a final fake smile, my eyes narrowed as I turned my back on them and got in the car. Before starting the engine, I still caught one last complaint.

“It’s incredible how he defends that girl even in the middle of this circus. I don’t understand what the hell she has!” she fumed, stomping her feet and crossing her arms.

That was an excellent question.

I was far too focused on the traffic, humming Sicko Mode by Travis Scott, tapping my fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. I couldn’t help swaying in a little dance as if nothing was wrong. The sunlight was strong, so I pulled my sunglasses from my hair to better see the road.

For a fleeting moment of distraction, I glanced in the rearview mirror, and a chilling sensation washed over me for no reason. Behind my car, a dark-windowed SUV waited at the same red light. There was no reason for concern—I knew cars like that were common around here.

But the unease grew, gnawing at me, as I decided to test my suspicion when the light turned green. Casually, I turned the first corner to shake it off, but it didn’t take long for the driver of the SUV to appear on the narrow street, blatantly trailing me.

I pressed the gas pedal moderately, and the bastard matched my pace. He didn’t seem intent on cutting me off, maintaining a safe distance—just enough to let me know he was there, aiming to unsettle me.

I tried to keep control, ignoring my sweaty hands gripping the steering wheel, my gaze fixed on the mirror. Accelerating down the second avenue, I ran a red light, weaving through the crossing traffic to shake the pursuer, my pulse racing in rhythm with the car’s speed.

No time to think. I veered sharply into the opposite lane, narrowly avoiding a collision with another vehicle that slammed on its brakes. The blaring horn couldn’t even dampen the sinister adrenaline coursing through my veins, heating my blood alongside my labored breathing.

I yanked the wheel, swerving into the first open alley I spotted, slowing just enough to notice the SUV caught in the chaos I’d caused at the intersection, freezing the traffic behind it.

But what the hell was that?

After another meeting in the office, everyone was ready to leave. I was really determined to keep my promise when I said she had died to me yesterday.

Today, I only thought about her three thousand times.

When I passed through the door, I saw that she was right behind me, and it was incredible how every time things were tense between us, she somehow managed to look six times more stunning, as if just to provoke me.

The funniest part was that she didn’t have to try very hard to do it.

“Are you okay?” My steps instinctively halted when I heard her voice. “You seemed agitated when you got to the meeting, and…”

If I were speaking to her, I would’ve surely said that a big part of my irritation came from people spreading lies about us online again and some lunatic racing me on the road just a few minutes earlier.

“I really wanted to talk to you about something,” she insisted, gently touching my back, which I quickly pulled away from. Her fingers carried electricity, and just the slightest contact with my skin was enough to turn my brain into useless mush.

But I wasn’t about to break the silence game.

“Noah?” Gerard poked his head out of the room, interrupting the moment. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

Relieved, I exhaled deeply, keeping my back turned to her as I walked into the room. I hated the smell of cigars and strong alcohol that filled the place, and I couldn’t stop glaring disgustedly at the leather furniture, worried the scent would stick to me.

“Just seeing the number of attendees in today’s meeting told me your conversation didn’t go well, did it?”

“Did you call me here to talk about work, or are you looking to catch up on gossip? I’m sure any website could keep you more updated than I could,” I retorted as I slouched in the chair, legs spread, letting my head fall to the side.

Fortunately, I wasn’t very expressive.

“I called you because I care about you two, and of course, this news shook me—not just because it’s a sad decision coming from someone young like her…” Gerard paused dramatically, and I raised a single eyebrow. “But because I’m worried about you in all of this.”

Fascinating.

“It happened exactly as I imagined. There’s no way she could’ve handled another wave of hate after all these months being labeled as problematic. Noah, I knew she’d eventually find a way to drag you into it, to share the blame!”

“I don’t follow the news, so I’m out of the loop,” I lied shamelessly.

“So you haven’t noticed she hasn’t defended you or denied anything being said about you? Noah…” He took a deep breath, clasping his hands with a thick gold ring on his ring finger over the messy desk. “I’ve been your age, and I know what love does to people, especially when it’s one-sided.”

Nothing annoyed me more than people circling endlessly around a topic instead of just saying it outright. We weren’t at a lecture or a sermon, and outside this place, dragging things out made no sense.

It was impossible not to stare at him with more disinterest as I rested my hand on my chin.

“I know you probably think this is all nonsense, but I can’t let you forget what happened the last time an issue between you two crossed personal boundaries and hurt the band,” he stressed, drawing a line on the desk. “I took the hit, and you… well, no need to comment—just search your name online.”

“Every day revisiting the same topic. Don’t you have a new, important agenda to make my visit worthwhile?”

“This will remain the topic until you stop behaving like you’re ready to throw it all away for that disturbed girl again!” He finally bared his claws. “Are you going to tell me you didn’t, even for a second, think it was betrayal for her to throw you to the wolves and save her own skin?”

I’d reached my limit for the day, clearing my throat into my fist before standing and stretching my back. Slowly, I leaned over the desk, bringing my face close to his while locking eyes and moistening my lips with my tongue.

“Gerard, dear…” I whispered so softly it almost sounded like a song. “You can take my band, my money, my rights, my songs, even the damn socks I sell. But my personal life? That’s still none of your damn business!”

“It becomes my business when she manipulates every thought in your head and keeps you from doing your job!”

“As you’ve noticed, we’re no longer together. She made her choice yesterday, and now our relationship is purely professional. I couldn’t care less about what she does from now on, as long as it means she sings properly and does her job!” I declared. “Now, please stop bothering me with things that aren’t my responsibility or interest. I’ll keep ensuring my part is done.”

A strangely triumphant smile formed on his lips, and I watched as Gerard nodded slowly.

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, giving two light pats to my cheek. “I knew I could count on you!”

Breathing outside that room again felt like being reborn, if such a thing was possible. The entire way out of the office, I tried to push his words out of my head, though they carried a shred of truth.

I couldn’t forget that when everything fell on her shoulders, I had the same reaction, if not worse, staying silent, waiting for the chaos to subside. But it never did, and now it made sense for her to use a winning hand against me.

She knew I couldn’t do anything on my own, and that gave her free rein to do whatever she wanted. But it was undeniable how bitter it tasted to feel like a stepping stone for her unstable ego.

Outside, I paused at the entrance as rain washed over the dry, empty streets of the city. It wasn’t heavy, but the few drops that hit my face were cold and powerful enough to conjure a mirage before my eyes.

Ahead on the road, there was nothing but trees past the shoulder. In the middle of the asphalt, two people—a couple—smiled as they ran, chasing each other like there was no fear of tomorrow. They danced even without music, and it seemed like the first time the boy had ever felt truly happy about something. He looked free.

Shaking my head to push away the revisited memory, I headed toward the studio, which wasn’t far. Outside, amid the laughter and the sound of guitar riffs, there she was, her voice like a spell capable of putting me in an automatic trance every time I heard it.

Passing through the gate slowly, I walked toward the back of the vast yard. She and my friends were gathered, Jolly and she doing a duet—more precisely, a cover of Decode. Even as they seemed to be having fun, she didn’t go off-key once.

The raspiness of her voice, the beginnings of delirium watching her sit there smiling between verses on a bench with the microphone in hand—it took me back to the bar’s back room, watching her sing in absolute silence. There was no technique, no production, no effect—nothing could compete with the absurd talent I desperately wished the world would know.

The same place where I first saw her and swore I’d never seen anything like it, the same place where I fell hopelessly in love with the insane woman who had a desperation for life, for proving how free she was, enough to infect me with the same poison.

I hated her.

I hated her so much.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ;

[jedijesi]

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 14

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy!Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Implied Smut, Heartbreak, Little bit of Violence.

Word Count: 4K

Summary: Felicia relives her heartbreaking past with her ex, Peter Parker AKA Spider-Man. 

Co-Author: @stclairesplace

A/N: Sorry for the late update, holidays and finals have taken us hostage. Enjoy this chapter, I loved writing it! I also recommend listening to the other woman by lana del rey during flashbacks!

New York, Earth-192

Felicia and Miguel sat comfortably on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in the captivating show playing on the television as their minds wandered to the thoughts of each other's lips. She found solace in leaning against Miguel's chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed, a comforting and familiar rhythm that reassured her.

The playful touch of his fingers touching the silver strands. As the scenes continued on the screen, Miguel would occasionally plant tender kisses on the crown of Felicia's head, causing her heart to beat faster. Then, with a delicate touch, he would kiss her neck, leaving a trail of affectionate pecks that ignited a spark within her. Each kiss left a tingling sensation in its wake, and Felicia couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

In this intimate moment, the outside world seemed to fade away as they found comfort and love in each other's presence, even if they were doing nothing but simply watching the television. The shared silence spoke volumes about their connection.

Miguel continued his sweet assault on Felicia's neck, listening to her soft gasps and moans, until LYLA's sudden appearance jolted Miguel out of his moment with Felicia. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her neck, his attention shifting to the unexpected intrusion.

"What?" Miguel asked, a trace of irritation in his voice.

"I thought you wanted updates," LYLA said, crossing her arms with a no-nonsense expression.

Miguel pressed one last tender kiss to Felicia's lips. "Enjoy your show, Hermosa. I'm going to go in the other room if that's alright."

Felicia nodded and stole one last kiss. "You can go to the gallery. Its the third door down the hall." She gestures with her hand. 

With a smile, Miguel briskly made his way to Felicia's gallery. He opened the French doors, stepping into the room that held breathtaking displays of art. The walls were adorned with some of the most stunning paintings, and practically every inch of the room was covered with canvases. Miguel can’t help but shake his head and smile, imagining all of the Black Cat’s escapades. 

“Miguel.” LYLA interrupts his daydreaming to remind him of her presence. 

“Yeah, sorry, what’s going on at HQ?” Miguel asks as he walks to the desk by the window where a box of newspapers had fallen. 

“One thing has been confirmed, It’s all an inside job.” Miguel sighs, bending over to help clean the mess on the floor. “Miss Drew and I interviewed everyone that works in the Gismo production so see if anyone has been smuggling them. So far, we’ve got nothing there. A little over two months ago there were a few outages in the security cams.”

“That must have been when they retrieved enough to give to the Maggia.” Miguel ponders as he places all of the newspapers back into the box. 

LYLA continues to theorize, but Miguel becomes enchanted by the headings of the newspapers. 

FAMOUS PAINTING: THE SWING, MISSING! NEW YORK’S NEW VILLAN, BLACK CAT?

Several security guards reported a woman in a 

black suit and claws stealing the precious art.  

Miguel chuckles to himself as he looks over his shoulder to where the girl in a pink gown on a swing, hung proudly in the center of the wall. Miguel flips through several more newspapers spanning over the years. As he flips through the various years and headlines staring his Felicia, he stops on one in particular that catches his eye. 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT FIGHT SCORPION

Has the Black Cat changed her ways? 

“LYLA,” Miguel interrupts the AI’s train of thought. “Does Earth-192 have a Spider-Man?”

Taken back by Miguel’s random question, LYLA stops to go through the data in her codes. “Yes. Night-Spider and Spider-Man AKA Felicia Hardy and Peter Parker.” She informs. “Why do you ask?”

“She never mentioned having a Spider-Man.” His brows furrow. 

“According to my records, Peter Parker of Earth-192 sponsored Felicia throughout her training and interview process.” Wanting to know more, Miguel dives back into the box of newspapers. “Whatcha doing there, boss?” LYLA peaks over Miguel’s shoulder with suspicion.

“Just… looking.” He shrugs. 

“You sure you're allowed to do this? Might be a violation of her trust.” LYLA warns. 

“Holy shit.” He muttered as he finds exactly what he is looking for. 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT KISS!

New York’s favorite crime-fighting duo was spotted kissing on the Empire State Building!

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!

Spider-Man and Black Cat take down the sinister six! 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT PREGNANCY?

Is she bloated or pregnant? 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT ENGAGED?

Black Cat seen with diamond ring! Is it from cat burglar days or a special spider? 

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT BREAK UP!

Black Cat makes it very clear that it is over!

LYLA and Miguel read each headline in shock. Slowly, Miguel places the stack back into the box, trying to take in the new information. As he takes a step back, Miguel notices a newspaper crumpled on the ground. Hesitantly, he picks it up to read the headline. 

SPIDER-MAN AND NIGHT-SPIDER: NEW YORK’S COUPLE REUNITES WITH A KISS?

After a tragic car crash, the former Black Cat was seen working with Spider-Man and sharing a passionate kiss! 

Refusing to let his scattered mind confuse the situation, Miguel grabs the box, rushing back to Felicia. 

“Felicia,” Miguel calls out, striding down the hall into the living room. 

“Yes, my spide-” Felicia’s smile fades as she recognizes the box he holds. “What are you doing with that?” Her posture straightens to attention. 

Miguel timidly sits on the couch next to Felicia, setting it down between them. “I found this.” 

She sighs, staring at the two Newspapers on the top. “SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!” and “SPIDER-MAN AND NIGHT-SPIDER: NEW YORK’S COUPLE REUNITES WITH A KISS?” 

“Mí Vida.” Miguel brights Felicia out of her dark thoughts as his hand touches hers. “You can tell me.” 

“He was the guy that… kissed me that night- the first night I stayed with you.” Felicia could feel her heartache as memories began to flow filling her mind’s eye. 

“He was the asshole that kissed you!” Miguel shouted, his eyes glowing red with fury. 

Felicia nods. “Peter Parker, the man obsessed with the front page of the Daily Bugle.”

“I just don’t get it,” Miguel becomes baffled by the information. “Peter Parkers aren’t exactly known for being egotistical assholes.”

“He wasn’t always… he was my first love.” 

Freshman Year of College…

Black Cat offered a playful smile from her elevated vantage point, perched on the rooftop as she surveyed the treasures of Tiffany & Co. she planned to rob after nightfall.

"Tiffany's? Again?" Spider-Man couldn't help but express his disapproval. "Can't we fight somewhere else tonight?"

Her melodramatic gasp followed, and she placed a hand over her heart as though she'd been wounded. "I thought we were close enough not to judge each other."

Spider-Man moved closer, nimbly walking along the thin rooftop wall. "When are you going to join me on a real mission and help people?"

Black Cat met his gaze, her sultry tone curling into a teasing purr. "Whenever you decide to take me on a date."

Spider-Man chuckled at her response. "That's not fair. You never say yes."

Black Cat shrugged with a devious grin. "You haven't earned it yet, Spider."

Their flirtatious exchange took a more serious turn as Spider-Man whispered into her ear, "I thought I earned it two nights ago, but I guess I was just a booty call."

Before Black Cat could come up with a witty response, Spider-Man suddenly leaped off the building, swinging down to the street below. Concerned and curious, she hastily followed him, only to discover that he had stopped traffic to allow a family of ducks to cross safely.

It was a simple, lighthearted gesture, but it struck a chord with Felicia. She couldn't help but reconsider her goals and her plans for the night, including her intended heist at Tiffany's. Perhaps she did want to explore the Italian restaurant Spider-Man often raved about.

Junior Year of College…

Felicia's heart raced with excitement as she raced up the steps of the campus lecture hall, leaping into his arms. "Pete!”

"My precious girl," Peter replied with a tenderness in his voice. He showered his girlfriend's face with affectionate kisses as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"I missed you," Felicia pouted, looking up through her lashes at her dashing boyfriend.

Peter couldn't help but chuckle at her infectious energy. "It's been 8 hours!" he teased, his eyes sparkling with affection as he held her close.

"8 hours is a long time to show you this!" Felicia exclaimed, pulling a newspaper out from behind her back. She bit her lip, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Daily Bugle

SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!

"We're New York's favorite couple!" Felicia excitedly whispered, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm as she carefully ensured they wouldn't alert other students. "We were all over international news, babe!"

Peter took the newspaper and inspected the featured photo, which captured the thrilling action of Black Cat and Spider-Man's recent battle against Vulture, Shocker, The Lizard, Sand-Man, and Green Goblin.

"Look how much you've grown, baby," he said, his voice filled with pride and love. "I'm so proud of you. I couldn't have done it without the love of my life."

With those heartfelt words, Peter passionately kissed Felicia on the steps wanting everyone to see how much he loved his Felicia.

Later that night…

"Wanna order takeout to celebrate?" Felicia asked as she playfully traced invisible doodles onto Peter's chest.

"Chinese downstairs?" Peter responded with excitement, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

"Mmhmm!" She confirmed as her fingers continued to dance along his skin.

Peter couldn't help but smile, and he gently pulled Felicia in for a sweet, lingering kiss. "I love you so much," he whispered, his words laden with warmth and devotion.

Felicia giggled her laughter like a cascade of soft chimes, and gracefully slipped out of the bed to put on some clothes. "It shouldn't take long. Why don't you set up a movie and get some drinks ready?" she suggested a playful glint in her eyes.

"Sure, baby," Peter agreed, giving Felicia a playful smack on the ass before she left their cozy studio apartment.

As he reached for his sweatpants, his phone chimed with a message, a notification that displayed a name he hadn't seen in a long time. His heart raced as he read the name, his mind racing with questions and emotions. The air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation, casting a shadow over what had been a tranquil and affectionate moment between him and Felicia.

MJ: Hey, Tiger. It's been quite a while. I caught a glimpse of you and your girlfriend on the news, and you two were nothing short of amazing. I'd love to catch up sometime. Feel free to text me whenever you can. I've missed you <3

Peter: Hey, thanks. I'm just relieved no one got hurt. Missing you too, by the way. How's everything going?

MJ: San Francisco has been chaotic. I can't help but wish I was back home with you. ;)

Peter hesitated, his gaze fixed on his phone, before typing his next message.

Peter: How's your boyfriend?

MJ: I called it quits with him yesterday.

Peter: Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. 

MJ: Don't worry. I'm genuinely happy.

MJ: I just realized that he's nowhere near as spectacular as you, Spider-Man ;)

Peter: Haha... Thanks. You're remarkable yourself too.

MJ: I'll be moving back after college next year. Perhaps we can reconnect?

Peter: Yeah, I'd really like that.

MJ: Can't wait to catch you on the news, Tiger. ;)

Peter's fingers danced over the phone screen as he exchanged messages with MJ. The nostalgia of their conversation filled him with a mix of emotions – a bittersweet blend of longing and fond memories. He couldn't help but smile to himself, lost in the exchange of words that felt like a breath of fresh air from his past.

"Dinner!" Felicia's cheerful voice broke through his daydreams as she walked into their cozy apartment, holding two plastic bags filled with takeout. Her vibrant enthusiasm clashed with the introspective mood that had overtaken Peter. "You didn't set anything up," she remarked, her smile slightly faded, but still optimistic.

Peter quickly wiped the smile from his face, placing his phone down as he returned to the present moment. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, the weight of his previous conversation still lingering in his mind.

"It's okay, Spider. Everything alright?" Felicia inquired, her concern evident as she placed the bags of food on the small table by the window.

Peter managed to put on a smile, though the warmth that usually danced in his eyes was absent. "Never better." 

Today…

Felicia's gaze was distant as she stared at the black and white print of the newspaper. "After that," she continued, "he became utterly fixated on the limelight. It was like he couldn't get enough of it." Her fingers absently traced patterns on the paper, betraying the weight of those memories. "He'd pose for every picture, he became obsessed with his physique, and took on the most outrageous stunts," she sighed, the words laden with both disgust and disappointment.

The room fell into a contemplative silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the city filtering in through the window. Miguel scooted closer to Felicia, letting her fall into his arms so that he could hold her. Then, she added, her voice lower, "He hooked up with MJ the very day she returned to New York." The words hung in the air, heavy with the knowledge of a romance that had played out in the public eye, and the impact it had on Felicia's relationship with the man in question. “Took me a bit to find out though.” 

2 Weeks after Graduation…

The apartment was immaculate, as Felicia desired to surprise Peter on their special date night. Freshly cut flowers from the rooftop garden adorned the living space, their fragrant aroma mingling with the alluring scent of Felicia's new French perfume, filling the apartment with an ambiance of romance and elegance. She dressed in Peter’s favorite black dress with elegant make-up and sat on the fire escape of their cozy apartment, a hint of anticipation in her demeanor. She occupied herself by meticulously manicuring her nails, her signature black nail polish to match her attire. As the minutes ticked by, Peter's absence stretched to over an hour and a half, causing Felicia to be more engrossed in her nail care routine while the anticipation gradually turned into concern. 

As the clock marked the two-hour milestone and Felicia's attempts at contacting Peter remained fruitless, her growing concern turned into determination. She decided to take matters into her own hands, donning her iconic Black Cat suit. With her agile and graceful movements, she swung out into the vibrant New York night, visiting the locations Peter frequently frequented in the hopes of finding him.

While gliding through the cityscape, the distinct sound of Peter's hearty laughter reached her ears, piercing through the bustling nightlife. Guided by this familiar echo, Felicia zeroed in on an apartment. With her newfound spider-powers, she stealthily crawled along the brick wall. Her cat-like finesse allowed her to peer inside the cluttered room, where she spotted Peter seated on a couch. Tears glistened in his eyes as he burst into laughter, the intensity of his amusement visible through the window. The sight both relieved her and piqued her curiosity, as she wondered what had brought such joy to her often absentminded boyfriend. Adjusting her angle, she finds the source in her blind spot. 

Felicia's heart plummeted and an overwhelming feeling of nausea washed over her as she beheld the scene before her. Watching MJ in her underwear, return to the couch with two glasses of wine, a million thoughts raced through her mind. She knew she couldn't let Peter see how he had just shattered her world.

With a heavy heart and a sense of devastation, Felicia glided back to the apartment, her swift, graceful movements belying the turmoil within. She hastily packed her belongings, leaving no trace of her presence behind. The only place she could run to was the secret penthouse at the Plaza that her father left her. It was dusty as she had mainly used to store her stolen valuable jewelry and artwork. Previously, she was content with the idea of living a humble life with Peter, but life had different plans for her.

After moving everything out of her, now, old apartment, Felicia found herself on her rooftop of the Plaza, finally alone with her thoughts. It was the first time she allowed herself to fully absorb the reality of the situation, the pain of heartbreak weighing heavily on her shoulders.

Painted tears streamed through Felicia’s Black Cat mask, leaving streaks of make-up along her face. In an instant, the Spider-Woman-in-training decided to revert to her previous life, purging herself of any trace of Spider-Man. Her tears blurred her vision as she gazed down the street at the Dolce and Gabbana store. A shift in her demeanor occurred as an idea suddenly sparked in her mind. Before she could put her plan into action, she goes back inside for her old bag of tricks, hidden away in the dusty confines of her home.

Across town, Peter wiped away his tears of laughter before reaching for his phone, which was charging on the table. "Oh, shit!"

"What's wrong, Tiger?" MJ inquired.

"I have a ton of Spider-Man alerts; I gotta run!" Peter replied, quickly grabbing his Spider-Man suit from his bag.

"Hurry back, lover," MJ said with a gleam in her eye as she pressed a kiss to Peter's lips before he pulled the mask down and swung out of the window.

Felicia deftly twirled her vibranium baton in her hand as her eyes locked onto her next target. With a powerful swing, she shattered the glass protecting the precious jewelry. A triumphant scream escaped her lips as the gems and trinkets lay exposed. This was her fifth shop of the night, and in each one, she left his clothes and a deliberate and enigmatic message for New York's beloved Spider-Man. 

Dolce and Gabbana: “CHEATER” 

Tiffany and Co: “TRAITOR”

Gucci: “FUCK YOU”

Chanel: “LIAR”

Versace: “ROT IN HELL, SPIDER-MAN”

Each message bore the distinctive signature of clawmarks and a cat sketch, a calling card only too familiar to the city's web-slinger. As Spider-Man arrived at the first scene, a heavy sense of dread engulfed him. 

"Did Black Cat make this for you, Spider-Man?" a cop inquired, eyeing the bold, black spray-painted words.

Spider-Man hesitated for a moment, his thoughts racing. "Are there more?"

The police officer nodded. "Yeah, several places around the upper east side have been broken into and tagged."

"Fuck!" Spider-Man cursed before swinging away in search of the next location. The night was a relentless cycle of pursuit, revealing message after message until he reached the last one. His frustration and anxiety grew with each discovery.

"FUCK!" he exclaimed once more, his voice filled with exasperation. He finally returned home to find his apartment nearly empty, all his belongings in a messy pile in the middle of the room.

Felicia stood before her floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, and gazed at the flashing police lights converging on the designer shops she had systematically destroyed. The ever-growing chaos in the city below, brought her a strange sense of peace. 

After Felicia had run out of tears, she stepped away from the window and set about the task of cleaning the dusty apartment. She hung up her stolen art, unpacked her belongings, and gradually transformed the space into her new home. It was a solemn process of letting go and starting anew, but it needed to happen, even if she’d spend half the night doing so. Once the daunting task was complete, Felicia crawled under the covers of her king-sized bed, tears streamed down her face, and she cried herself to sleep. 

Today…

As Felicia’s head rested on Miguel’s heart, she continued. “For the rest of the summer Peter and I were in an on-and-off relationship.” She cringed to herself. “He would keep trying to convince me that there was nothing between him and MJ. It was a painful cycle where I’d cried every night as I realized that I would never truly have his heart.”

“It’s not your fault, mí vida,” Miguel whispers, caressing her hair soothingly. 

“Looking back, I realize I shouldn't have ignored the glaring red flags. I was a fucking dumbass and kept going back to him. I genuinely believed that the same Peter that would have stopped the world for some ducklings was still buried in there. But now, he's still obsessed with MJ's approval while she's obsessed with the chase. I hope they're happy in their psychotic relationship." She spat out, frustration causing her to throw the newspaper across the room. 

Miguel presses dozens of kisses to Felica’s forehead to soothe her. 

“Thanks, Miggy.” She looks up and smiles at Miguel. She moves around so her legs straddle his lap, a knowing smirk drawing itself on her face. She leans into his lips, whispering, “I consider myself very lucky to have you,” and presses her lips against his, both of them smiling into it. 

“Is that so?” 

“Hmm” 

“And what is it about me that makes you feel lucky?”

Felicia takes a deep breath in before saying, “I love it when you throw me around.” 

Miguel bursts out laughing at the bold statement. “You- you do huh?”

“Don’t you dare make fun of me O’Hara we’re supposed to be having a nice moment!” She slaps his chest to scold him. 

Miguel catches his breath still laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry what- what else, please please continue baby.”

Felicia huffs before continuing. “I like how you’re a good leader. You think about everyone else before you do yourself.” Miguel nods for her to continue.

“And I don’t care what anybody else says, but I like how you have a scary, menacing walk. Where people look at you and are scared to approach you but I for one find it incredibly sexy.” Miguel’s smile fades into a stern expression, his tone changing.

“Who says what now?” 

Oops. “No one! Just rumors, anyways!” Felicia quickly diverts the subject, waving her hand in the air as if to wipe it away from memory.

“I like the way you look at me.” 

“And how do I look at you?”

Felicia smiles to herself about the answer, the heat rushing up to her cheeks. 

“C’mon tell me.” Miguel sits up more on the couch, hands now rubbing at her sides. 

“I like how you look at me like I’m your equal. Like I’m worthy in every way possible. Not someone who needs fixing, or needs to be changed. You look at me like a partner, not an enemy.” 

Miguel slowly nods his head, absorbing all the things that Felicia expressed to him. 

“I’m lucky to have you too sweetheart. You have no idea, how lucky.” Without giving her a chance for her to reply he immediately pulls her head in to kiss her deeply.  She melts into his arms, her heart racing as their kiss deepens. His words echo in her head, I’m lucky to have you. She feels so lucky to be in his arms, feeling safe and loved. She’d never felt such adoration before, not like this, especially with Peter. She wraps her arms around him, wishing for the moment to never end.

Chapter 15

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com

[pumazoey]

wow i wrote a thing about my pokemon oc

Uhm enjoy ig? shes silly

_____________________________________________________________

Hammerlocke Stadium roared as Delphine D’Grace strutted into the center. She waved to the cheering crowd, blowing kisses and swinging her hips. “Alola!” She called out to them, and their screams got even louder. “Betcha don’t hear that much around here, do you?” She loved teasing her audience. As the crowd quieted, Delphine tossed the quick ball that was clipped to her belt into the air, releasing Primarina in a flurry of pink hearts. 

“How are we this evening, Galar?” She practically screeched into the mic. “Feeling hyped?” She gestured to her band, an unnamed guitarist and drummer. “Feeling glam? Gimme a beat!”

The first song started. Delphine bounced energy off the crowd, and Primarina seemed to be living its best life too: the fairy type was a natural-born performer. Delphine ran towards the crowd, reaching up to high five the fans in the ringside seats. 

As the opening song ended, and the second song started, Delphine’s mind was racing. Arceus, was she grateful to even have this amount of fame and reach. What would that 12 year old girl from Paniola Town say if she could see where she’d be at 22, world-famous with a champion’s title and a singer’s voice?

What would her younger self have said, with the knowledge that she would go on to complete the Island Challenge, beat the first ever Alola League, and used that press to make a name for herself like no one had before? She’d probably be in disbelief, clutching her partner Popplio to her chest. The thought amused Delphine. 

The show closed with an encore of the opener, Primarina being recalled into its ball and the crowd whittling away into the night, dispersing in fits of joy. Delphine flopped over onto lush green stadium grass, the feeling of a cold Galarian night flooding all her senses. She’d gotten used to it, though a big part of her missed the always-warm Alola air. Going back there for concerts never counted, those were indoor anyway, and she never stayed long enough to relive everything she’d gone through in her home region. She sighed and looked down at the Z-Ring on her wrist. Maybe life on the move wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The pleasant feelings had dissipated, and Delphine was homesick for the first time in years.

“I was hoping to do a few concerts in Alola this year. One per island, give me time to stay, to go home.” Delphine took off her jewelry, setting it in her suitcase. Her manager, a no-nonsense, professional-looking woman named Caster, eyed her impatiently. 

“You know as well as I we haven’t planned for four concerts at the end of the tour. Just say you want to go home.” Caster cracked a small smile. Delphine heaved a sigh of relief. Home was still waiting for her. 

“Is that…within the schedule?” She ventured. Caster tapped her pen against her dutifully-carried clipboard. “I was expecting this question far sooner. You’ve been just about everywhere, from Kanto to Paldea, I was waiting for the day you were ill for Alola. One more stop, in Hoenn, and then it's home for you.”

[blithehearts]

departures to sydney

i didn't think i'd catch myself thinking "oh, X would say this to my mum/dad" before realising X wasn't (physically) present anymore. she's flown off, back to sydney again. the trips to and from the airport yesterday made me feel... a whole lot, some of which i can't explain. i'll catalogue my thoughts here. 01. missing it goes without saying, i think, that i'll miss a whole lot. three months after two whole years simply isn't enough. it felt like i was reliving fragments of my earlier years (year 4, 2022 in particular) when january came. i'll miss: - not having to come home to an empty household - having (bland, as i so often teased but not-so-secretly loved) noodles (with soup and vegetables) after a long day at school, as a late-lunch of sorts; the conversations we'd have over the dinner table, either of us occasionally nursing a coffee or working through an assignment - absolutely brainrotted conversations over nothing in particular. pieck, jean and erwin? having a photoshoot of figurines that looked absolutely nothing like them? hell yeah. (and me dropping the octopus plushie on the ground for her to garble out a strangled 'no' in response; i have no clue how this came about, but i'm endlessly amused) - throwing around random 'domain expansion's, making a nonsensical 'are you X because...', saying out-of-the-blue 'nah i'd win's and 'stand proud's, and having someone on the receiving end who actually gets the reference :') - and this goes without saying, all the conversations about fuck all we'd had. serious ones, hilarious ones, everything in between. we'll have more days, weeks and months to come. it'll be fine. i just need to get used to this feeling again, to the human-sized empty space in the household. it'll be alright. 02. space i want to fly. i really, really want to fly. what i mean is that i want to have time and space alone to grow up–as a teenager, a young adult, an adult. i don't want to be coddled. i'm thankful for all the support my family's provided me, for being a nest of sorts i can return to no matter what happens out there in the open. but god, i want to be independent. and with... all the unresolved trauma of being a first-gen immigrant, all the guilt of moving on and leaving my parents behind, it's tough to expand my social circle. i genuinely feel like moving overseas is the only way i'll be able to explore the world, meet new people and make new friends w/o feeling like i'm leaving some part of my childhood/identity, my parents, behind.

being at the airport yesterday and watching her leave solidified that feeling in me. i do want to leave–not because i detest this place, but because it's a necessary part of growing up, growing into an independent being of my own, in my eyes. hm. i just need to study hard, study like hell, and get the grades needed to get into oxford. i don't want to do my higher education here. i want to leave, once and for all. but i'll resolve to always return periodically. i finally feel somewhat at ease with my family, and i'll cherish that. do my best to maintain that feeling. end. that's all for now. i'll get on with studying now. fingers crossed that by the time my timed practice exams are here, i'll be well on my way to scoring those As.

[euterpessi]

Romance Manhwa/Manga Recommendations:

Historical Manhwa/Manga:

Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess

I’ve reincarnated as the reverse harem game’s villainess, the one and only adopted daughter of the ducal Eckart family.

But the difficulty just has to be the worst!

Everything I do will only lead me to death.

I must be paired with one of the main male characters from the heroine’s harem before the ‘real daughter’ of the duke family appears!

Two older brothers who always pick a fight with me on every little thing.

The insane crown prince whose route will always lead to my death.

‘I only see the heroine and no one else’s wizard, and also her loyal slave knight, too!

‘First, let’s take some of them which I see no hope in, out of the list!’

“I didn’t know my place up until now. From now on, I’ll live as quiet as a mouse so you wouldn’t care the slightest bit!

But why do their interests in me keep on rising every time I draw the line?!

The Villainess is a Marionette

Cayena, the Imperial Princess, was known as the most beautiful woman in the Empire. She was a woman who knew nothing but evil and luxury.

However, she was destined for ruin: she would be used as a chess piece by her younger brother to secure his throne and killed by her crazy husband.

“I’ll make you the Emperor.”

“… Sister, are you referring to me?”

“In exchange, give me freedom.”

She had to change things before she became that Cayena.

The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up At The Duke’S Mansion

Poisoned to death by her own betrothed?! Eunha didn’t wake up in a novel’s story just to get killed off again as an unfortunate extra! To change her story she needs a cover… 6 months pretending to be the fake fiancée of the novel’s male protagonist, Duke Noah Wynknight. But will this cold-hearted, angel-faced demon of a man really help her avoid another ill-fated ending?!

Your Throne / I Want to Be You, Just For A Day

The story follows main characters Medea Solon and Psyche Callista, who become archenemies after competing for the position of crown princess of the Vasilios Empire. On the day of the Yearly Prayer, Medea and Psyche accidentally switch bodies.

The Remarried Empress

Navier was the perfect empress, however, the Emperor wanted a wife, not a colleague. And so, the Emperor abandoned Empress Navier and placed an enslaved girl beside him. That was fine until Navier heard the Emperor promise the slave the Empress’ position. After many ups and downs, Navier decided she would accept being the Queen of the neighbouring country and remarry.

Kill The Villainess

Eris Mizerian was the villainess of a novel. The only daughter of a marquis, she got executed after scheming against the pure and lovely protagonist, Helena. My only goal, after possessing her, is simply to leave this world and go home. I am prepared to face even death, but the laws of this world keep stopping me.

A changed Eris begins to draw the attention of three men who once loathed her; the Crown Prince, the High Priest, and the Knight.

"It doesn't matter. I will never be able to love this world."

Even if the only way out is death,

even if the only way out is make a deal with a witch...

I will absolutely leave this world!

This is the story of the villainess who defies fate, Eris, and her escape from this world!

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

I accidentally took possession of someone in a 19+ reverse harem novel.

The problem is that I became Roxana Agriche, the older sister of the sub-villain. My damn father kidnapped the heroine’s brother. Now, is the only thing left to meet a terrible end from the vengeance of the heroine?

But what if I can avoid that horrible development?

“I’m also interested in this toy.”

“I’ll protect you until you can get out of here safely.”

The heroine’s brother, Cassis Pedalian, will definitely be able to pay me back later.

Shadow Queen

“Can you be my daughter for me?”

By his offer, Elena became Duke of Franceschi’s fake daughter.

She became the queen and gave birth to Crown Prince’s son.

Then suddenly, Princess Veronica who was assumed dead came back.

She was only just a toy.

But eventually, Elena gets her son taken and is murdered.

However, she went back to the past.

“I’ll destroy all of you.”

I’ll never live as a toy again.

Elena decides to seeks revenge.

Under the Oak Tree

The daughter of a duke, the stuttering Maximilian, married a knight of lowly status at her father’s coercion.

After their first night, her husband departed for an expedition without another word.

He comes back three years later, this time as a famous knight in the whole continent.

How would Maximilian face him on his return?

"The more I think of you, the more lonely and lonely I become. I don't know why I can't quit even though it's so painful."

I'm Stanning The Prince

Angela’s fanfic became such a sensation that it even reached the Imperial Family, leading her to get arrested on charges of treason. Nevertheless, her fanfic improved the First Prince’s image, and his sister, the Princess, decides to take political advantage of this and keep Angela by their side. 

The heroine who can now fangirl to her heart’s content, and the Prince who doesn’t know how to act around her. As they bicker back and forth, they start growing closer…

Miss Not-So Sidekick

Hyejung loved to read to escape her daily stress. But that’s before she woke up inside the bizarre world of her favorite novel! Instead of the main heroine who courts three eligible men, she is now Latte Ectrie – a minor villain that everyone hates?! One way or another, it’s a chance to live out her most beloved storyline, with popcorn in hand to watch all the drama! Taking charge of the narrative takes on a whole new meaning!

Even Though I’M The Villainess, I’ll Become The Heroine!

I wasn’t able to overcome the harassment and took my life, but I was reincarnated with the perpetrator? The perpetrator is the heroine, Florre, and I am the villainess, Dahlia, who’s going to die horribly.

“They said you are a villain with neither blood nor tears, but unlike the rumors, you often shed tears.”

“Your Highness must believe all the nonsense the idiots are talking about, huh?”

Grand Duke of Cervian, the half brother of the Male lead and who will be punished for treason afterwards. He approached me. I can’t lose the man who will be my greatest ally.

“Your Highness, would you marry me?”

“Now…… what did you say?”

“And take revenge together.”

A similar situation, a fixed ending. The heroine is not the only one who knows the ending of the novel. I took a long and arduous path of revenge.

Who Made Me A Princess

The beautiful Athanasia was killed at the hands of her own biological father, Claude de Alger Obelia, the cold-blooded emperor! It’s just a silly bedtime story… until one woman wakes up to suddenly find she’s become that unfortunate princess! She needs a plan to survive her doomed fate, and time is running out. Will she go with Plan A, live as quietly as possible without being noticed by the infamous emperor? Plan B, collect enough money to escape the palace? Or will she be stuck with Plan C, sweet-talking her way into her father’s good graces?!

The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass

With the marriage of her prostitute mother to the Count, Aria’s status in society skyrocketed immediately. After leading a life of luxury, Aria unfairly meets death because of her sister Mielle’s schemes. And right before she dies, she sees an hourglass fall as if it were a fantasy. And just like that, she was miraculously brought back to the past.

“I want to become a very elegant person, just like my sister, Mielle.”

In order to face the villainess, she must become an even more wicked villainess. This was the new path Aria chose to take revenge on Mielle who murdered both her and her mother.

The Evil Lady's Hero

Junipe Magnolia, a villainess friend of the heroine in this novel called Rael Cania.

The Junipe inside the novel has always loved the male lead, Iseed. To the point where she harassed Rael out of jealousy because she's loved by Iseed.

And thus, Junipe is destinied to die in the hands of the male lead of this novel.

But one day.

"Why did I become Junipe?!"

But let's think about it, it's still one year away from the time Junipe is going to get killed by Iseed. So, I have to meet Iseed and Rael first, I'll be able to find a way out of my death if I do so.

Yeah, let's meet them first!

But, this man is just so tender-hearted and kind. Would Junipe be able to escape from this man?!

I Tamed a Tyrant and Ran Away

God gave me a chance to relive my life. Before the rebirth, I had been used for the past 400 years as the empire's sword. And so, I swore to destroy the empire. I found the young prince of the country and became his teacher. I taught him how to become a tyrant and asked for the country.

"I will do the lady's will."

He conquered the whole empire for me, and I ran away.

"I came to take you, Charlize Ronan." Dylan became a perfect tyrant and searched the entire empire for me.

"You tamed me, so why did you run away?"

Untouchable Lady

“Please, Hilise. Please die in place of Gabrielle.” My always dignified brother begged me for the first time. He wants me to die for our stepsister, whom we don't even share a drop of blood with. “For the first and last time, I ask you this.” I've always been miserable, and there is no exception this time. The seventh time that I was betrayed and killed, I was completely free of lingering feelings. “I'm glad that you're a scumbag until the end.” I won't be swayed by love anymore. It's my turn to abandon them first.

I’ll Live On As A Villainess

I reincarnated as the villainess in a book!

The one who dared to commit attempted murder on the heroine is the owner of this body?

Let's just live in a quiet place where we have fun and eat! That's what I thought for a while.

It was so, so, so cold here in the north, where I was kicked out as a punishment.

Before I froze to death, I called the Great Demon of Fire and set fire to the fireplace but...

Why isn't he going back? If you've done the job, shouldn't you go back?!

I was flustered to find out that I had signed a life contract with a demon just to start a fire but to think that I'd be responsible for relieving his desires!

The bickering romance between a big puppy demon and a small villainess lady!

It Looks Like I’Ve Fallen Into The World Of A Reverse Harem Game

When I opened my eyes, I was in a different world. I had become the game’s villainous princess who was feared by all. Not to mention… Completely naked men I didn’t even know were approaching me left and right! “Are you cold? Shall I warm you up with a hug?” “Oh? Have you not had enough yet?” Seriously, what’s up with this situation? And just how the hell am I going to get out of this freaking game?!

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married!

I’m Jubelian? The daughter of the duke and the villainess of this novel?

I managed to avoid my death with some previous knowledge about my life, as this was my second time at it. Now, I should be able to live a peaceful life!

“I’m not going to marry a man unless he has everything. I want the most wealthy, famous, and competent man there is.”

I dreamt of a glamorous life as the daughter of the duke, but my father tells me the Crown Prince who is known to be a lunatic is to be my husband! As an extraordinary measure, I couldn’t help but start a contract relationship. That is, with a handsome side character that looks better than the main one.

“Why are you trying to avoid being engaged to the prince?”

“He’s scary. I heard that he even kills his own entourage if he doesn’t like them.”

A few days later, the prince sent a terrible letter to me.

“I will not kill you.”

Oh no, did I set up another death trap for myself?

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch

"Hi, You."

Count Casarius fell victim to a plague and died suddenly, leaving behind a will stating that Rietta, his beautiful young widow of the manor, whom he tried to use as a concubine, be buried alive alongside him. Just before Rietta is buried, Archduke Axias, rumored to be a cruel tyrant, arrives at the funeral to collect the enormous debt Count Casarius still owes him.

“Everyone here seems to feel sorry for her, and I still have a debt to collect from Casarius… If I take her instead of debt, I think all of you here should be happy," he smiled.

"Hello, Temptress."

Everything was a Mistake

Roa Valrose reincarnated as villainess in the book. In order to avoid the fate of being burned at the stake, she approaches the hero, Nocton Edgar.

It hurts every time she gets closer to him. Nevertheless, for her survival, she does everything he wants her to do.

“Come again, Valrose.”

The mysterious Nocton unexpectedly sought her out every day.

Then one day, her friend for 10 years says something unknown to her.

“Actually, I have a dream. The Duke of Edgar is a terrible villain!”

He is not the hero, but the villain?

As soon as she realized that she had misinterpreted the role, she decided to get away from Nocton.

“Let’s not meet anymore.”

But the villain’s reaction was strange.

“Don’t go. You’ve always been special to me.”

She was suspicious of his sudden change of attitude.

Will she able to get rid of Nocton safely?

I Became the Tyrant's Secretary

I became the secretary of a tyrant in place of my clumsy brother to survive.

But I have so much potential for it. I’m so darn good at my job. Because I served the tyrant so well, ‘Everyone has a happy ending’.

Well then, shall I quit being a secretary and live a leisurely life now?

“Rosaline, tell me what you want.” He asked as he stepped down from his chair.

“I want to quit.”

His eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Do you want to die?”

Your highness, you never hold on to people who want to leave, so why’re you being like this to me?

Seduce the Villainess Father

After being in a bus crash, I woke up to the world of my favourite web novel.

Not only that, It was before the protagonists were born, to their parents’ world!

To stop the incoming multiple bad events.

I tried to prevent the kidnapping of the sister who is pregnant with the female lead!

But I got kidnapped instead?!

It's depressing to be kidnapped, but my body couldn't handle the mana and became a sunfish-like state

But... if I am next to the emperor who kidnapped me, my body becomes normal!

Right! The way to save that man from marrying a witch and getting killed by his son, and for someone who is vulnerable to mana such as myself to live, is for us to get married!

The Villains Savior

Set on a path to tragedy and misfortune from a young age, Aseph Randell is doomed to die a villain. That is, until the mysterious Elzay Tiathe appears in his life with a promise: "I can save you." After having vivid visions of him for so long, can Elzay untangle the twisted fate tied to Aseph... or will they both be dragged down together?

Contemporary Manhwa/Manga:

Night Crying Crow

This woman; who is she?

If something was action, it'd be action. If something was romance, it’d be romance. The A-list actor Cheon Woo Kang, who's great at every (genre), had his heart stolen away by an unknown woman who’d broken into his house!

“We'll meet again.~"

Woo Kang contracted an over imaginative illness as he drew the woman, whose name he didn't even know. In front of Woo Kang, she reappeared as the police officer Park Tae... Could the shadow of the crisis that appeared in front of them be a coincidence?

Raise wa Tanin ga Ii

Yoshino Somei would have been a normal high-schooler if not for the fact that she is the granddaughter of the leader of the Osaka-based Somei Group, the Kansai region's largest yakuza organization. One day, Yoshino hurries home after hearing of the news about the unification of Kansai and Kanto's biggest syndicates, the Somei and the Miyama groups. This, according to the article, will result in a marriage of the leaders' grandchildren—one of whom is Yoshino herself! Despite her best efforts to annul the arrangement, Yoshino has to go to Tokyo to visit her fiancé, Kirishima Miyama, who is unexpectedly nice and charming.

During their first meeting, Yoshino is swept up in various events and becomes unable to refuse moving to Tokyo, which is why, half a year later, she now lives with the Miyama group. At school, she soon realizes that Kirishima is very popular, so her relationship with him garners the hate of his fangirls and subsequently results in bullying. To make matters worse, Kirishima could not be further away from her prince charming since he, after all, was born to be a yakuza member.

Raise wa Tanin ga Ii follows Yoshino and her new life in Tokyo that is filled with nothing but troubles connected to the underworld. However, though she wishes to be as far from it as possible, this isn't Yoshino's first time dealing with the world of the Yakuza...

Positively Yours

To Hee-won’s dismay, the BFF she crushed on and her other BFF are now dating! Seriously bummed, Hee-won decides to go wild just one time, and find solace with a handsome stranger. A very satisfying one night affair has now turned into more — she’s pregnant! Fate brings them together again, and now the regimented Doo-joon is determined to do the right thing and marry her. But they’re basically strangers! Except... their bodies have been very intimately acquainted. What’s this mother-to-be to do?

True Beauty

After binge-watching beauty videos online, a shy comic book fan masters the art of makeup and sees her social standing skyrocket as she becomes her school’s prettiest pretty girl overnight. But will her elite status be short-lived? How long can she keep her real self a secret? And what about that cute boy who knows her secret?

Cheese In the Trap

Hong Sul is a ordinary college student. Yoo Jung is the school's most popular upperclass man. He's good looking, rich, smart, and even nice. However, Hong Sul thinks there's more to Yoo Jung than what meets the eye…

SPY x FAMILY

The master spy codenamed has spent his days on undercover missions, all for the dream of a better world. But one day, he receives a particularly difficult new order from command. For his mission, he must form a temporary family and start a new life?! A Spy/Action/Comedy about a one-of-a-kind family!

Doppio Senso (18+)

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about a guy.”

KyungHyun stopped in the middle of a deep kiss and sighed. His lips began to form a smile, but his fierce glare said otherwise. Possessiveness and jealousy spread across his sculpted face.

“Will you tell me his name?”

His easygoing and languid voice reached her ears.

“Why?”

“So that I can shoot him down.”

[unholyobsessions]

K9 Approval

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Description: Spencer starts crushing on the cute dog handler

Requested: Yes 

A/N: Not really falling in love, more of a meet cute but I am considering writing a short blurb as pt2 who knows

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, typical criminal minds stuff

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist 

It’s a pretty standard case. Spencer wishes he didn’t have to classify a number of women getting kidnapped and murdered as ‘standard’ but there is nothing particularly strange about it. The good thing (well not exactly good, more like convenient) is that it’s a local case and he is able to go home to his apartment every night. 

When he arrives to the BAU on their third day on the case he knows as soon as he looks at Hotch that this case just became anything but standard. 

“He sent a note,” his boss speaks and all color drains from his face. A note can either be extremely helpful, or extremely dangerous. He rushes to follow Hotch into the round table room where the rest of the team is crowded over a lined sheet of paper. 

I’ve always enjoyed a nice walk in the park. Especially those with lots of trees. Makes it easy to hide from the monsters crawling in the dark. It’s also easy for the monsters to hide their secrets. Can you find my secret? I’ll give you a hint. She’s no longer breathing. 

Spencer’s brain immediately tries to find any codes that could be hidden within the words but comes up with nothing. He picks up the plastic bag the paper is in and starts to read the note again. 

“Reid what can you tell us?” Hotch asks, arms crossed over his chest. 

“There is a lot of abbreviation. I’ve instead of I have. Lots instead of a lot. It’s casual, almost nonchalant. The pen is pressed lightly against the paper, which shows that he was calm as he wrote it. He’s confident, not worried about getting caught.” Spencer explains his findings without looking up. “Garcia are there any parks within the geographical comfort zone?” 

Garcia immediately starts typing away on her computer, not needing to look at the keyboard to click the correct keys. In a matter of seconds she’s speaking the location of two parks, both conveniently placed in the center of the comfort zone. 

“We need to get two teams of search dogs in each park. Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss go to the one on fifth avenue. Rossi and JJ you’re with me at the park on eighth. We need to find her.” 

. . . 

Arriving about twenty minutes later, the park was already crowded with search dogs and their handlers. Spencer crinkled his nose, never particularly excited to work with the dogs. He was vaguely listening to whatever Morgan was saying next to him as he let his eyes scan over the park. 

There were certainly a lot of trees and it seemed like the place children would enjoy playing hide and seek in. It wasn’t huge but it was certainly bigger than the average park and the lack of street lamps surrounding the area would have certainly made it easy for the unsub to sneak around at night. 

As he kept looking over the area, his eyes caught sight of you and the breath was knocked from his lungs. 

You have always loved animals, dogs in particular, and you have known since you were young that you wanted to be able to work with them when you were older. However, eight-year-old you never expected to look for dead bodies for a living, well you look for living people too. And technically you don’t do this for a living, you’re a veterinarian who happens to spend her time volunteering in search and rescue missions. 

The decision to start volunteering as a search dog handler came after a girl in your college went missing. Everything was okay and she was thankfully found unharmed but it was two days of your campus being crowded with search dogs. You talked to one of the officers about the job and after a few short minutes of conversation you were instantly hooked. Five years later and you cannot bring yourself to regret your choice. 

You remember when you got Ash, a gorgeous German Shepard, after your first training session. He was only three months old and the perfect age to start his training. It required you to spend all of your free time playing hide and seek in your small, one bedroom apartment, which is not as fun as it sounds after a few weeks. 

In the end it was all worth it since you are able to help people and it got you a new best friend. 

You walk around the park with a tight hold on Ash’s leash. You got the call about fifteen minutes prior and you are thankful that it is your day off from the vet. You keep your eyes on your dog, making sure to look out for any change in his behavior that may indicate that he found something. 

The small hesitation in his step was enough to make you stop walking. He started rounding one of the trees, sniffing the ground before looking up at you and giving a loud bark. 

You call Hank, one of the members of the team that is carrying the shovel over. “I think we got something.” 

Your voice not only attracted the search team, but also three FBI agents. A few seconds later there was a small crowd gathered around you as Ash used his paws to help Hank dig the hole. Once the body has been uncovered you lead Ash away from the crowd, your hand going into the fanny pack strapped around your waist. 

“Good job,” you say as you kneel next to him. You hold out the treat and he excitedly licks it off your hand. You can’t stop the smile that comes on your face even though it’s not the most appropriate reaction considering the situation. You feel a pair of eyes on you and you look up to see one of the FBI agents staring at you. He looks embarrassed at getting caught and you wave him over. He does so cautiously, keeping his eyes on Ash. 

“Hi,” he says once he gets within speaking distance. You stand up and dust your hands on the fabric of your jeans. 

“Hey, you’re from the BAU right?” You already know that he’s from the BAU, your team leader having had told you so as soon as you arrived. But he’s cute and you need a way to start a conversation. 

“Yes. I’m Dr. Reid. Uh I mean Spencer…you don’t have to call me doctor.” He looks away bashfully and you smile, finding the blush creeping up his neck endearing. 

“Well Spencer, I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself. You notice that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Ash, who is looking up at you as if waiting for you to introduce him. “Everything okay?” 

“What? Oh yeah it’s just that dogs don’t particularly enjoy my presence. They actually kinda resent it.” He says it so casually and you are sure that this isn’t the first time he’s had to say it. He looks just about ready to run away if the need arises and he does look a tad surprised to see that Ash isn’t attacking him already. 

“Nonsense. Ash is a sweetheart and loves meeting new people. Come on,” you gesture for him to come closer with your hand. What you say is true, however Ash does look a little more vigilant than he usually does, as if he senses a threat in the FBI agent but won’t act upon it without your command. You don’t comment on it though, assuming this will only make Spencer more hesitant. Spencer approaches slowly, afraid that the dog will start barking at him. Once he’s standing next to you, you hear him audibly gulp. “Hold out your hand.” He does as you say, placing his hand out in front of him and toward Ash. 

Ash looks at you for confirmation and at the small nod of your head he leans forward, sniffing the stranger’s hand. Spencer looks completely terrified of the situation and after a few seconds, Ash leans back. Spencer is about to retreat his hand but you stop him, knowing that everything is riding on Ash’s next move. Ash lifts his left paw off the ground and places it on top of Spencer’s hand, barking once and you let out a relived sigh. If he had refused to shake Spencer’s hand and barked twice, it would have been a done deal, because even though you are attracted to him, if Ash disproves then it can’t happen. 

You smile and nudge Spencer slightly. “See, you just got the Ash stamp of approval.” The laugh that leaves his lips makes your heart flutter and you scold yourself. You just met him, get it together. 

You see the grimace on his face once Ash removes his paw and leaves a good amount of dirt on his hand. You reach into the fanny pack and take out a small pack of wipes and a small bottle of hand sanitizer, always prepared. He looks grateful at the items, immediately taking a wipe and running it against his palm. Once he’s done he turns back to look at you. Ash has settled down at your feet, happily wagging his tail and sniffing Spencer’s shoes. 

“Does this stamp of approval allow me to ask for your number?” He asks it so casually and it is such a contrast from the shy man a few second before that it takes you completely by surprise. It takes a second for your brain to properly process the question and now you are the one stuttering. Once it catches up, you turn to him with a grin. 

“Definitely.” You grab your phone from your pocket and hand it to him and he does the same, both of you typing your contact information. You stare at each other with matching grins but are inevitably broken out of your daze by a voice calling out for Spencer. 

“Reid, Hotch wants us back at the BAU. You can flirt with the pretty dog handler later.” The dark skinned agent yells across the park.

Spencer blushes furiously and turns back to you, barely stuttering out, “I have to go.” 

You nod your head in understanding. “I’ll talk to you later Spencer.” 

“Definitely.” You are pleasantly surprised when he leans down and pets Ash a couple times. “Bye Ash.” 

You keep looking at him as he walks away, too distracted to notice the new presence beside you. 

“Got a date?” Hank asks. 

You shove his shoulder, trying to feign annoyance but the large smile on your face betrays you. “Shut up.” Ash barks up at you, seemingly wanting to join in on the teasing and Hank laughs, lowering his hand to high five Ash. “I hate both of you,” you reply with a frown. 

Your façade breaks when your phone chimes with a new notification. You grin at the screen, the text sending butterflies to your stomach. 

Want to get coffee on Saturday? 

Tilting your phone away from the prying eyes of your team leader and furry friend, you type out a reply. 

It’s a date

[doodledrawsthings]

Her Aim Was Getting Better

(Ahit ““““““Coffee Shop AU”““““““ rp log)

This is part of an RP between @displacedentities and myself detailing the meet-up between Luka and Vanessa, when she spikes his coffee with the curse. We did this a while back to get a feel for the characters and how that scene would go down, and they nailed it with how they wrote Vanessa. So I asked them if I could post it. Some of the stuff here was written before we had other things established, so some things like Hatties’s age and how long ago they split might be inconsistent with other posts I’ve made, but Enjoy!

(also forgive me for the way i write my parts, I’m not as practiced at writing rip)

(MysticDoodles) Despite the warm paper cup in her hands, Vanessa couldn't deny the chill in her bones. It had yet to go away since that day in court, biting at her skin and hovering just at the base of her brain stem. It always seemed to grow colder whenever she thought about how she got here... the things she'd said. What she almost did to that poor briefcase jockey in the courthouse.

But it didn't matter, anymore. If anything, her mom was happy she lost that case. Losing her husband and... child had stripped away all excuses she had not to throw herself into her work, and her mother was happy. 

Vanessa was not happy. 

In fact, she was seething. 

Luka took everything from her, that day. Her love, her place in their home. His adorable smile, his laugh... they weren't hers anymore. He only gave them to that- little gremlin. The parasite that took his love away from her, her precious nickname given to their daughter. 

Nobody got to be Luka's princess except Vanessa herself. Never again.

She lost the custody battle and her efforts to take Luka's obsession away from him, but she was going to make sure he lost so much more.

Vanessa waited in the autumn breeze, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the coffee cup. Chestnut-infused Columbian. His favorite. A sister cup sat opposite the table, waiting for him. If he was brave enough to show his face. .

(DeusExMakena)  He could see her from his car as he pulled into the parking space, sitting at a table by the large window at the front of the coffee shop. How long had it been now? Around five years, right? Hattie was barely a year old when they split.

He used to get so excited about meeting her, being in her presence, making her smile... and now the very thought of just getting out of his car and making eye contact with her left a pit in his stomach. As much as he'd loved this woman in the past, the way she treated their newborn daughter.... he had to stop thinking about it. Starting this meeting out in an angry mood wouldn't be a good idea.

With a sigh he finally willed himself to leave the vehicle, and just as he looked up their eyes met. The pit in his stomach deepened as he walked up to the cafe doors.

(MysticDoodles) The ice crept up her neck again. Vanessa forced it down, and put up a smile. No reason to start this off as cold as the ice in her veins. 

 Luka can see from her attire that she's doing rather well- financially, anyway. A thick coat against the autumn chill- or maybe from her heart, so closed off- and a scarf stuffed into her bookbag. Her mother must have improved her stipend, now that they split. What a beastly woman. It's pointless to ponder what-ifs at this point, but maybe if Vanessa's mother had been someone else... no. No point.

 With one hand, she gestures to the chair opposite her. Empty and waiting. "Hello, Luka. I got your favorite. You're doing well?" 

 ...the tenor isn't as friendly as it sounds, and feels more plastic than her smile appears.

(DeusExMakena) He hesitates, looking around the venue at the other tennants before wordlessly taking the seat across from her, mostly staring at the coffee cup in front of him.

Why is he having such a hard time looking at her?

"I'm... fine," he manages to force out as he takes the cup in both hands. Come on, man just get this over with and you can go home. "So uh, what brings you here?"

He wishes he could kick himself in the face for how out of place he feels, right now. What do you even say to someone you haven't seen in years, when the last time you saw them had been after an intense battle over the custody rights of the child you fought so hard to protect?

At least the warmth of the cup in his hands provides him with some reassurance.

(MysticDoodles) Something in Vanessa's smile twitches, but it's gone before he can really tell what it was.

"Oh- I just wanted to chat, catch up on old times, you know? I'm guessing the bar exam went well?"

...

Awkward silence, as Vanessa turns her smile away. She lifts her own coffee cup to her lips and takes a long drink, looking at the pavement.When she sets it down, there's a brief moment where her fingertips looked blue. It soon fades back into perfectly trimmed nails.

"...you know why I called you here, Luka. Don't make me lie to you." Her voice grows quiet, though pensive or frustrated is difficult to parse. "You were always better at lying, anyway."

(DeusExMakena) He squints slightly at that last remark and has to do enrything in his power to hold his tongue.

"I dont, actually. With the way things ended the last time we saw eachother, I was almost sure that would be it." he says, probably with a bit more venom in his tone than he should have used, but he was here for less than 10 minutes, now, and he could already feel his patience waning.

"But if you're really just here to reconnect, you'll have to forgive me" he takes a moment to swirl the cup in front of him before lifting it towards his mouth "I'm not very good at small-talk."

Chestnut-infused Columbean bean. Cream and Sugar. So nice to know that she never forgot.

(MysticDoodles) Vanessa smiles as he takes a drink. It's gone by the time he removes the cup again.

"...sorry," she says. Her stony expression shifts into a frown. This wasn't how she expected this conversation to go- but really, she had been expecting nothing, so no pain or gain thus far. "I'm not being very polite, am I? I guess I just- missed you, Luka. It's very different, going back to my mother's apartment after-... well. Being with you."

...

Another quiet sip. Vanessa runs her finger on the plastic cap.

"...do you miss the nights after we studied, when we'd just sit on the couch together and watch garbage movies?"

Before Harriet came along, she didn't say aloud.

(DeusExMakena) Of course he did, he loved her. And as much as he'd love to revisit those moments, to relive the sense of elation he felt when he got her to laugh over awkward acting and nonsensical writing... He just couldn't forgive her for what she did.

He sighs, opting to indulge in her to see where she's going with this.

"Yeah," He takes another sip, looking back down at the table "Sometimes I still wonder why that had to stop."

(MysticDoodles) There's no way he misses the way her fingers tighten on the paper coffee cup. Especially since it's accompanied by an audible pop of paper crumpling in a half inch, and liquid sloshing within.

"They did stop, Luka."

How could he be so blind?

"They stopped when you stopped spending them with me. You spent all your time with our daughter, and not with the loving wife who gave her to you. Don't you see how unfair that is? I deserved your time, too."

Vanessa sighs, her words almost chastising. It reminded of the times she shifted into 'disappointed mother' mode around Harriet. Their one year old, at the time, who didn't understand consequences for things like dropping a toy in the sink. She even had the nerve to sound hurt as she speaks those words.

(DeusExMakena) He is absolutely apalled.

"I-" he doesnt know why he cant find the words to respond. His eyes wide and his eyebrows furrow as he glares directly at her. He shouldnt be surprised by this, really, he saw this coming. Five years, and some things will just never change.

Luka pinches the bridge of his nose, he MARRIED this woman.

"I'm sorry, are we- are we really doing this again?" He sets his coffee cup on the table with a little more force than he wanted to, "You do realize you're getting jealous over a literal one-year old that we both agreed that we wanted to have. I'm her father, I'm sorry, again, for doing my job and raising our child."

(MysticDoodles) Vanessa's long-suffering expression hardens back into stone, pouting out her lip as once more, Luka shows no signs of budging on his stance. How very lawyerlike of him. To the bitter end, he would fight for his side of the case against the opposition. She wished they didn't have to be on opposite sides, anymore, yet here she was for the second time.

"Is it so wrong that I wanted to spend more time with my husband? All toddlers need to learn to share, anyway." Vanessa shrugs, as if this were no big deal. "You never spent evenings with me, anymore, Luka. Every night that you came back from graduate classes and networking with firms, you would go right to her. The honeyed words for me didn't come until dinner, if they came at all. And don't talk to me like I wasn't a good mother- I kept her out of trouble during the day, whenever I was out of rotation."

...

"How is my little Harriet doing? It's been so long since you've squirreled her away."

(DeusExMakena) No. No, no, no, he's not doing this again

"You..." He tries to hold his tongue, but peck, he doesnt want to deal with this right now. He feels his hands ball into fists "No. I'm sorry, no, you don't get to ask how my daughter is doing. You had every opportunity to join us, no one was stopping you from being happy but yourself! You wanna talk about sharing? Then why are you throwing a fit over a over a child spending time with her father?"

 ...

"She wanted a relationship with you, you know. It's... really hard having to explain to a five-year-old that she doesnt get to see her mother because she was too immature to realize 'oh hey! I could hang out with both my daughter AND my husband at the same time!'" He says that last bit in a mocking tone as he picks up his coffee and goes in for another sip, glaring straight at his ex-wife with pure exasperation.

(MysticDoodles) There he goes again. His daughter.

This time, Vanessa doesn't look away as she returns the glare. The medical graduate holds unflinching eye contact as she lifts her own cup and downs half the contents. Trying to make a statement, maybe? She always did have issues with competition.

"...so where does that leave us, then? You drink the coffee I got you, and walk away? Are you really so set on burning this bridge, Luka? Things can go back to the way they were, if you really want it that way. My stipend will get us through the rest of exams, and then we can live a good life together - high paying jobs, a comfortable apartment, as many dates and trashy movie nights as we want. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

...she didn't say a word about five-year-old Harriet.

(DeusExMakena) Luka takes a moment to stare at her, eyes half-lidded and tired.

He picks up the cup and downs the rest of his coffee, before placing it back on the table and standing up from his seat, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Allow me to light the match for you."

With that, he turns towards the door, ready to leave. Why would he feel bad about burning a bridge that leads nowhere?

(MysticDoodles) Luka can hear the squeal of the metal chair legs as Vanessa stands abruptly from her seat. There's no click of heels on riverstone, but he knows she's got her fists clenched at her sides, watching him. She always did that when she was angry. Maybe this time she'd have some ice on her wrists, now that her abilities were public. She'd put less effort into hiding it after the court case, anyway.

"YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE!" Vanessa yells after him as he continues, stride unbroken. "You'll regret this! You won that case, but you'll always be my prince, and I'll always be your princess!"

But legally, she couldn't touch him, now. Luka and Harriet were no longer family. He knew that, and she knew he did.

...

Oh well.

The door closes with a crnk-ling of the bell, and the background noise of the cafe starts to fade back into her awareness. Or lack thereof. Everyone nearby was staring, not that she cared.

Stiffening her upper lip, Vanessa grabs her bag and loops it back over one shoulder. She pats the side, removing the scarf off the copy of 'Ancient Botanicals & You' she'd found at the antique bookshop, and tying the garment back around her neck. With one hand she picks up Luka's cup, and looks inside.

Empty.

A smile traces her lips as she takes it along with her own, and tosses them both into the trash can.

Now all she had to do was wait and see.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Hiding From the War We Claim to Fight For

Dick Winters x Reader

Chapter 2- Like Darkness Drawn to the Night

Summary: Dick considers how to make ammends while you are reminded of your position in the Airborne

Warnings: ANGST AGAIN, some backstory, more internal monologue than any of you crazy cats asked or signed up for, nix being a smug little bitch, some wildly inaccurate and made up military rules, my usual nonsense

Title and Chapter name taken from The Hollow in Retrospect by Corey Kilgannon

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dick’s fingers hovered over the keys of the typewriter, fingers starting to shake from inaction as he stared at the row of blank paper waiting to be filled.

How anyone could write reports all day was beyond him.

 He’d rather relive each and every scorching run up and down Currahee while under enemy fire than compose another sentence, let alone an entire document. More than anything, he wished he could just write in the straightforward, bullet point style that SInk and Nix’s intelligence reports came in.

Briefly, Dick wondered if it was this difficult for everyone else in the military, or if he was just uniquely inept.

 Whenever he saw you writing reports, your fingers danced over the keys like a concert pianist. You made it look easy.

The thought of you brings back the sour feeling in his stomach, an anxious nausea rolling over him like a rogue wave. His blood was both too hot and too cold in his veins, the sight of your heartbroken face carved into the inside of his eyelids.

 “You made me part of it…. You stood there and did nothing to stop it.”

 He couldn't deny your accusations of negligence, even though every fiber in his body ached to reject such claims. When had he lost that part of his humanity? Where had it gone? He’d had it in England, he knew he had still felt it in Normandy….maybe it was after Hall died? 

Had he left it on that hillside in Sainte Marie du Mont, as he watched the city down the way exploding in fire and fury?

 It scared him- to think that he hadn’t even felt the man he’d been slipping away.

Had it been obvious to anyone else?

Had it been obvious to you?

 Forcing himself to refocus on his report, he reread the last part he’d written and frowned. He’d reached the part in his report of the October 5th report that he’d been dreading: the part where you got hurt….

 When the men had brought Alley back from the Crossroads, Dick had thought them lucky that only Moe had sustained injuries- serious ones but non-life threatening.

It hadn’t been until Joe Liebgott suddenly looked around in fear and asked if anyone had seen you that Dick realized that this wasn’t just a matter of re-securing a border anymore.

It was a body retrieval.

 He hadn’t even had time to get angry or scared or confused as to why you were out so close to the frontlines before he’d gotten whatever men he could together to retake the Crossroads, his sense of duty and obligation taking over his more emotional mind and giving it a purpose by way of distraction.

You weren’t in the dike where Liebgott had assumed you’d fallen, something that provided little comfort for both Dick and the men who’d grown to love you like a sister. While no body usually meant that there was still hope of life, the fact that you could’ve very well been taken squandered any such optimism.

No body, no answers.

 When Dick had thrown himself off of the dirt road and slid into the dike for cover, it had been your whimper of pain that had brought life back into his body. Somehow, he’d managed to get his hand over your mouth before you could make much of a sound, your eyes wide and bright in the dark as he stared down at you in relieved wonder.

 You must’ve been laying out in the cold for at least an hour, your calf bleeding steadily as you shivered in the damp muck of the grassy slope. As carefully as he could, he’d rolled his body over yours in a desperate hope to offer you some warmth, his heart going a thousand miles a minute as he processed the fact that you weren’t dead- that there was still a chance of you making it out of this alive.

 “Are you hit?” he asked as quietly as he could, watching as his breath moved the hairs that had fallen loose around your face like some gentle breeze.

You nodded, knocking your left knee against his leg to indicate where you had been injured. He realized he still had his hand clamped over your mouth and lifted it up slowly, worried that you might make another pained sound and give away your position.

“Not bad,” you hissed, your jaw tight as you tried to keep your voice quiet. “Bad ricochet…. Moe? The guys—?”

“Safe.”

 You’d let out a sigh of relief, swallowing a few times before seeming to refocus and process what Dick’s being there probably meant.

“A truck with three men passed about six minutes ago,” you sighed, and Dick could feel your hands move from your sides to slide between both of your stomachs to start pulling at your belt. His face went red and he quickly rolled off of you, eyes wide at the insinuation of the act before realizing that you were trying to give him something to make a tourniquet out of. 

 He knocked your lethargic hands out of the way and helped you slide it from your belt loops, wrapping an arm around your waist to unclip your holster that was inhibiting the belt’s release. 

“Just you?” you had asked, exhaustion from blood loss beginning to stain your voice.

Dick sighed a ‘no’, looking back the way he’d come from before looking back down at you.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised, looping the belt around your leg and securing it just below your knee. “I’ll come back, okay?”

Your hands took the tail of the belt from his and pulled, your face drawing in pain as you nodded.

“Go, go!”

 He stops typing, his mouth feeling dry and his hands feeling clammy.

It made him uncomfortable to think that you’d been angry with him even then, that you’d been angry with him for a long time and he hadn’t even realized it. You’d been so brave, squeezing your eyes shut as he and Tab poured sulfa powder on the wound and muffling your cries of discomfort into the palm of his hand as you held it to your mouth.

Dick wondered briefly if you’d ever let him touch you again, even if it were only to save your life.

 You meant more to him than he cared to admit or think about. You hating him hadn’t changed that.

When you’d brought up the kiss you two had shared in England, you’d used the past tense- ‘the feelings I had for you’.

Selfishly, Dick supposed that he’d automatically assumed that you were still harboring your affections for him- that you would wait until he felt comfortable enough to share his own feelings of mutual admiration and that things would easily fall into place.

It made him feel stupid. It made him feel foolish.

He wondered if this was how you’d been made to feel after Alderborne.

If so, he had more to apologize than he thought.

 Make amends the voice in his head whispered. Do your job and make it better.

He didn’t know what that meant, not really. He didn’t know how to even start.

What he did know? He couldn’t do anything until he finished this report.

So, leaning on his sense of duty, he brought his fingers to the keys and began to clack away.

 ~

 Dick’s report felt heavy in your hand as you waited for his orderly to alert him to your presence, anxiety churning your stomach like a storming sea. It took far too much effort on your part to maintain your professional facade these days, and judging by the noticeable tremble of the papers in your hand, your mask was starting to crack. Even Sink had made a remark about how on edge you seemed, doubt clear on his face when you tried to brush his concern off as nothing more than homesickness.

 You should’ve known better than to try and lie to Robert Sink, he’d known you too well and too long for you to get much past him. It didn’t happen often, but you could swear that there were moments where he looked at you like you were still the messy-haired little girl who played war in the woods with his children after holiday meals- his eager-eyed niece who would climb into his lap and beg for him to recount the far off adventures he’d just returned from.

 Now that you’d had a chance to share one of these adventures with him, you wondered if he regretted indulging your fascinations. You doubted he’d ever tell you either way. 

That was just the sort of man he was.

Those were the sort of men you now surrounded yourself with.

 When you tried to imagine one of your future nieces or nephews crawling into your lap and asking you for stories, you were alarmed by the fact that you had unintentionally imagined Dick sitting by your side.

 Before you fully process why that had been where your mind went, Zielinski returned and gave you the go-ahead to enter the office.

 You felt an instant shot of relief when you saw that Dick wasn’t alone, the presence of Lewis and Harry calming your frayed nerves significantly. While you knew in your heart that Dick was not a bad person, that he hadn’t done what he did maliciously, you still weren’t sure what to make of your anger towards him.

 The moment you step in the doorway, Dick shoots to his feet and for a moment you think he’s about to stand at attention. Briefly, you wonder if Zielinski had accidentally told him to expect Sink coming in- and if the way Harry and Lewis start to confusedly copy his formality, they are just as confused as you are.

 But you knew Zielinski hadn’t mentioned Sink. You’d been right next to him when he’d said your name.

That made your face feel hot for a reason you didn’t dare explore right now.

 Everyone in the room stands awkwardly and stares at each other for a second, and with a confidence you didn’t truly have you attempt to break the tension.

“Uh- at ease, gentlemen?”

 Harry snorts a laugh at that, plopping back down with Nixon following suit. You don't miss the look Nix shoots Dick’s way, but you aren’t able to decipher it. Maybe that was for the best.

 “Well, would you look at that?” Harry says with a beaming smile. “Look who’s decided to grace us with her presence this morning.”

You roll your eyes at that, giving Nix a quick nod in greeting before fixing Harry with a look as you walk further into the room. 

“Oh Harry, when I decide to grace you with anything you’ll know it.”

He shoots you a wink as Nix huffs a laugh at the interaction.

You can feel Dick’s eyes on you, and when you turn to face him you feel your easy smile tighten and you give him a nod.

 “Sir.”

“Y/L/N.”

 The air between the two of you is thick with unspoken tension, stained with guilt and frustration and the remnants of affection that made the feeling all the more painful. You could see a similar trepidation on his face, your throat feeling tight as you choke back all of the things you wish you could say.

 Lewis, clearly feeling the awkwardness as well but kindly not letting it linger, quickly breaks the silence.

“You want to sit, Y/N? Heard you got shot at the crossroads….”

 Dick’s eyes flicker to your leg and then he’s quick to reach over and rip his coat off of the wooden chair to the left of his desk. You sigh a laugh, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’ before carefully lowering yourself into the seat.

“I think I fall somewhere in between shot and grazed, but yes you heard right—”

“Oh yeah!” Harry adds, leaning into the sill of the window as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Lucky you weren’t at CP. heard they got hit pretty bad….”

You feel your mood darken slightly at the reminder of Holly’s death. He was a good man. All of the men who had died that day were good men.

“Yeah,“ you mutter as brightly as you can. “All things considered.”

 You clear your throat and look hesitantly at Dick.

“That’s uh, actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You hand him the file in your hand and give him a nod of thanks when he comes closer so you don’t have to get up. 

 “Sink’s hoping he can get you to rewrite the report on that—”

“Oh?” Dick’s pale brows furrow as he looks at the paper to see that it is indeed his report on the crossroads. “Was something wrong with it? Did I miss a signature? Was it too vague—?”

“No, no!” you interrupt, having heard through the grapevine how hard he’d worked on it. “Nothing like that! It’s um, the opposite, actually.....”

 Dick frowns at that, and you hesitate for a moment while you try to find the right words to express what Sink needed fixed.

“Sink, um, was hoping you could rewrite some of it. Specifically….” You look down to pick at an imaginary thread on your pant leg. “he needs a report that doesn’t include the fact that I was there—”

You feel his eyes on you, and the room is unbearably quiet as you clear your throat and continue to look anywhere but Dick’s direction. You catch Nix’s gaze, and you can tell he knows what you’re getting at.

“I…” Dick begins, his voice quiet. When you see Harry’s head turn to look in his direction you do the same and catch him looking at Nixon as well. “I’m not sure I understand…”

 Harry, never one to stay still for long, chooses this moment to pop to his feet and announce that he’s getting himself some coffee. You all mumble your own acknowledgments to his intention, and he saunters off like a kid who was just told he didn’t have to stay for detention. 

 When Dick’s eyes fall on you again, you begin to tap your fingers on your thigh nervously.

“Well, I’m still technically just an orderly, at least on paper, so—”

 “—So having you injured in the line of duty is a direct violation of your service agreement.” Lewis interrupts, saving you from your tongue-tied stupor. Dick’s frown deepens, and when he looks back at you you nod in confirmation. 

“What he said,” you say with a bitter taste in your mouth. “It’s just a minor adjustment, otherwise it’s a perfect report, Dick—”

He holds up a hand, narrowing his eyes as he processes what you and Nixon have just said. Once upon a time, you would’ve found the look on his face endearing and it would’ve made you smile. 

But not right now. 

 “That doesn’t seem right.” he finally settles on, smoothing a hand over his already perfectly combed hair before setting his hands on his narrow hips.

 You couldn’t agree more. It wasn’t right.

You’d implied as much to Sink when he’d tasked you with getting Dick to amend the report earlier than morning, a strange embarrassment bringing tears to your eyes at the notion that the simple mention of you ruined an entire report. 

 Were you such an intolerable figure that by simply being referred to in an official document brought into question the credibility of a successful engagement? 

 Sink, giving you a look that you recognized from your childhood moments of petulance, had clapped a hand on your shoulder and given it a familiar squeeze.

“It isn’t fair, you’re right about that. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but the powers that be just ain’t ready for someone like you- not yet. Don’t take it to heart. You’re smarter than the lot of ‘em.”

 “The terms of my service are pretty clear that I in no way should be anywhere near combat,” you heard yourself parrot hollowly. “Colonel Sink is just trying to keep me from getting sent home—”

 “But you were shot.”

 The ferocity in his tone surprises you, and when you see him angrily shaking his head from side to side you send Lewis a pleading look.

Taking the cue perfectly, Nix stands up again and clears his throat as he elaborates on your behalf.

 “If she’s shot back at CP, that’s one thing. It’s where she’s supposed to be as an orderly. But If she’s shot ‘in the line of duty’, she’s considered an active servicemember- and active service members who get wounded are eligible for a Purple Heart, which would make her a soldier—”

 “—and then you’d have the right to a soldier’s pension.” Dick finishes Nixon’s sentence, his jaw working as he looks ruefully at the report in his hands.

 Nix snaps and points a finger at him. “Bingo.”

 Your frustration from earlier has begun to boil your blood again, and your feet nearly itch with the need to leave the conversation and the suffocating feeling of the office.

As you push yourself up to stand, Dick and Nix move to help you- only stopping at your assurance that you’d got it under control.

Looking back at Dick, you fix him with a look that you hope conveys the importance of what you’re asking.

 “I was able to buy you an extra two days, but the sooner Sink gets it the sooner he gets off of your back about it.”

Dick nods, tossing the pages down atop all of the other paperwork on top of the desk.

“Yeah, understood.”

“Hey, Dick—?”

 Something in the set of his shoulders gave you pause, and you realize you aren't really sure what else you wanted to say to him. 

Sorry I called you a monster? I think I was angrier at myself than anything else? I don’t think you’re a bad person at all, and I am sorry if I made you think that I did?

 But you can’t say any of those things- not yet and not with Nix here.

So you settle on another tight smile and a nod.

“Thank you. I know it’s….you’ve got a lot going—”

 The strained smile he gives you back tells you that he feels it too, that he knows there is still an ocean of unresolved conflict between the two of you. That he is just as sorry about it as you are.

“Don’t give it another thought. I’ll take care of it.”

 With a final nod, you murmur a goodbye to Lewis and leave the office

~

 The moment you are out of earshot Nix smirks like the cat that ate the canary.

“Told you she still liked you.”

“Shut up, Lewis.”

 Dick hoped his friend was right.

~ ~ ~

HELLO MY SPECTACULAR STARFISH HERE’S SOME MORE NONSENSE AND FEELINGS FOR YOU TO DIGEST! I TOTALLY MADE UP THE RULES AS TO WHY READER CAN’T BE IN LE REPORT SO PLZ DONT YELL AT ME I’M SENSITIVE OK I LOVE YOU BYYEEE!!!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @teenmagazines​ @liebgotttme​

[screensirenfic]

A Curse On Your Name - Chapter 3 - Ruin To Your Name

10 years earlier 

Izumi had been right. 

Jujutsu Sorcery would bring their family nothing but pain and suffering, and sometimes Masamichi wished he had listened to her all those years ago.

Jujutsu Sorcery had cost him his family; the woman he loved and his daughter leaving him for the safer promise of foreign shores, the United States a supposed safe haven free of Cursed Spirits and Sorcerers where Mikasama could grow up a normal kid who knew monsters only existed in story books.

But Jujutsu Sorcery hadn’t cost Izumi her life.

It wasn’t a Spirit or a Curse User that had stolen the soul from her before she’d even reached her fortieth birthday.

It had been the cruel hand of God; cancer robbing her of the years she had left and leaving nothing behind.

Well, nothing, but their teenage daughter; Mikasama no longer the wide-eyed 6 year old his memories had clung to all these years.

He’d never delivered on his promise; the pressures of his work never allowing him to entertain far flung fancies of getting on a plane and seeing his daughter as she’d grown.

Not until now.

Now, standing outside the foreign form of his late-wife’s two-story home, the hustle and bustle of American suburbia making him feel all the more of a stranger as he finally returned home to her after nearly a decade.

He stepped inside, pleasantly surprised to see that Izumi had kept some semblance of home within; the distinct decor of Japan melding seamlessly with that of the Western World.

He made his way up the staircase, following the dark tangle of empty halls; the square stains of pictures marring the walls like scars of where they’d once hung; most of the house’s contents packed away and shipped off to storage ready for when Mikasama came of age.

The last door on the left, just as it had been at home; the gratuitous swirling cursive of her name marking the room as her own, the clumsiness of the lettering seeming cumbersome to his eyes.

He held his fist up to knock, unsure if she’d even recognise him after all these years, let alone the sound of his voice, but deciding to anyway.

“Mikasama…”

He called out as he rapped his knuckles on the door, ear hovering close to the wood as he waited on an invitation to come in.

He was met with silence, and for a moment he dared to think she’d ran away just like her mother, but he told himself that was nonsense.

Instead, he pushed open the door, surprised to find the Westernised equivalent of what she’d had at home; the room more suited to a 6 year old than a teenager, with its brightly painted walls and glow in the dark stars.

Still; the timelessness of the room wasn’t what drew his eye.

It was the figure of a young woman sat crossed legged on the far side of the room, her back facing him as she hunched over, her body’s stillness almost unnerving to him.

“Mika..?”

He called out again, stepping further into the room past ageing dolls and discarded teddy bears; his foot stopping before it could crush the small and ragged form of a familiar friend.

Pan-kun 

He recognised it even as the years had not been kind, picking up the bear from the ground and taking in it’s changed appearance firsthand.

The bear was stained and patchy; the toy looking a little worse for wear after years of affectionate handling, but he was surprised she’d kept it for so long.

Perhaps she hadn’t forgotten him after all.

He smiled at the toy, letting his fingers run through what was left of his stained fur, one of the bear’s eyes missing as it stared up at him with its dopey expression, and he suddenly got an idea.

He placed the toy back down on the carpet, standing it upright so it could balance unsteadily on its four legs; Masamichi thankful that it’s body still held some integrity.

Then he slowly let forth a small amount of Cursed Energy - not enough to form a soul, but just enough to imbue the bear with the ability to move on its own.

Slowly, the toy came to life, stretching its limbs cautiously like a cat waking up from a particularly long nap, the long years of stasis limiting the movement of its now animated body.

Then, it began to make its way over to its owner, its movements clunkier than Masamichi had remembered as he relived an old memory years into the future.

Just as the bear reached Mikasama’s side, it’s round head turning to greet its mistress, her hand shot out, grabbing the bear in a tight grip as it grew limp; the Cursed Energy that had been coursing through it moments before no longer present.

“Mikasama…”

He said, stepping forwards towards his daughter as he heard the snivels of sobs; proud of his daughter’s apparent inheritance of his Sorcerer’s abilities, but worried by her rash reaction.

“Mika-chan…”

He continued, kneeling down beside her as he reached out to touch her narrow shaking shoulders, only for her head to whip round to face him first; his body nearly struck back physically by the living memory he was greeted with.

Izumi’s face.

Even with his dark hair and furious brows; it was hers that stared back at him, all the same scorn and hatred captured in green teary eyes.

——————————————————

Present Day

The Math Department was a bust.

Plenty of Cursed Energy as expected, but none with that distinctly evil aura that seemed to follow the Fingers of Sukana like a bad smell.

She’d exercised a few spirits; small fry like a Roppongi Curse and a couple of Fly Heads, but found no trace of Sukana’s Fingers.

Now; she was heading back to the shrine to reconvene with Megumi, hoping that the boy had found something more noteworthy on the sports fields.

“Mikasama-Sensei-!”

The Fushiguro boy exclaimed as he barrelled straight into her, knocking her off her feet and onto her ass in his haste to reach her.

“Whoa; cool your jets, Megumi, or else you’ll put me in hospital..!”

She remarked, sounding a little too much like Saturo for her liking, but deciding to ignore it as she climbed back to her feet.

“But I’ve found the Cursed Object; it’s in possession of a High School student..!”

He informed her with a strong sense of urgency; Mikasama honestly surprised of the level of responsibility she was getting from a fifteen year old.

“Well; did you retrieve it?”

She asked, kind of relieved they no longer had to prowl around an empty High School after dark, the teacher-student implications not sitting nicely with her, even if their circumstances were beyond exceptional.

“I… couldn’t catch him before he left…”

Megumi admitted, his blue eyes lowered to  where his sneakers kicked at the grass; the kid clearly ashamed that he couldn’t apprehend a Non-Sorcerer by himself.

“No use crying over spilt sake, Megumi…”

She reassured him, patting him comfortingly on the shoulder as she began to formulate a game plan on convincing this kid to give them the artefact.

It wouldn’t be easy; especially if he believed it was something of value, but she’d picked up enough of Saturo’s charm to convince the kid to hand it over.

“Now; do you think you can track where he went..?”

She asked, knowing it was best to leave anything that relied on animal instinct to a Shikigami user; especially one as talented as Megumi.

“I think so…”

He nodded, already closing his eyes to focus on summoning one of his six current Shikigami Spirits.

“Divine Dogs…”

The boy commanded, forcing two Spirit wolves to appear from the darkness; one black as the shadows from which it came, the other as pale as the moon piercing the night sky.

[ficforce]

Little Wound Part 1

Joker x Little Lady Reader SFW There will be mentions of noncon and other abuse in this and the coming chapters

Joker stared up at the steel ceiling, his eye was unfocused as his mind drifted back to the rooftop nearly three months before. He wasn’t sure how he had survived because he had been pretty far gone; it was a miracle he had even been able to get a signal out to Licht. He loved her. He loved her so much and he had ruined her life because of his selfish desire to be free. He tried to recall her happy smiles and the way she would tell him off but the images kept morphing into her dead stare and her cruel words. She didn’t love him back, it had all been a lie to get close to him and slip a knife between his ribs. “I changed your IV drip - ya know I’m not this kinda doctor, right? I’m the experimenting kind.” Licht tapped on the rail of the hospital bed they had acquired, “The actual doctor did say you should start getting up and about… start eating more.” It didn’t take a genius - even though he was one - to realise the Joker was depressed. He had to be. Joker hadn’t left the hideout once since they had set up the bed, borrowed some simple hospital monitoring equipment, they also acquired blood and medicine for him. They had other allies working with them, all of them trying to work out why people kept catching fire - one of those people was a surgeon and he had barely saved the man’s life. “You can’t find the truth laying on your back.” “This word sucks, the truth just makes it suck more…” “But you wanted to find out why it sucked, remember?” This wasn’t his friend, this wasn’t the awkward, dangerous man he knew, “So you’re gonna just wait for the world to burn? Become a different kind of shadow that disappears into the dark all alone?” Nothing. Not a twitch. Joker turned his head away from Licht, figuring he’d disappear if he hoped long enough. “Damn it, Joker!” his fist hit the rail and the metal hinges of the bed squeaked, “Get up and do something - every second you waste in that bed is another second Y/N is trapped.” A sharp inhale followed by a shaky breath out was the only reaction he gave outwardly. The words stung but they did start a wheel turning in his head, one that hadn’t turned in three months, Y/N was trapped. She was likely back with the shadows under the Holy Sol Temple. Going through the hell he had run away from and damned her to. “Get outta here… I’m tired.”

x - -

‘You never belonged to the shadows’ Sometimes those words echoed around his head. Some of her parting words to him and he didn’t know if she was rejecting him or comforting him. Joker relived the night over and over, every word, every detail until he started to realise the minuscule things. Like the fact she had stabbed him in a way that deliberately missed his heart. She would have known exactly where to land a killing blow but she didn’t; she had nearly killed him. She hadn’t finished the job either. She had told him that she wanted him to remember her being different and special - not part of the collective. She didn’t want to be with the Shadows. She wanted to be free just like him and he wished he had recognised the pain in her eyes - the tension in her jaw. ‘The Captain always finds fault with me’ Joker knew what she meant because he had experienced it. He should have stormed tin there a year earlier and saved her, instead, he had felt sorry for himself whilst the Captain did Sol only knew what to her. Because she was his replacement, because he had tainted the Five-Two name.

Breaking into the Holy Sol Temple with Benimaru had been to seek the truth but it was also a partial rescue mission. However, when Joker saw those dead green eyes of the man who beat and violated him day in and day out, who had ordered the murder of the family who had taken him in and forced him out of the sun again… He forgot all about Y/N and set Benimaru loose on the Shadows. The very idea of finally ripping out the bastard’s heart gave him the edge, his hatred of the Captain and what he had done - not only to him - gave Joker an odd kind of joy.

A pained yelp went through Joker’s ear like an arrow and he felt a heated blade catch his leg. This wasn’t the time to get distracted but the sound had caught him off guard and his head whipped around to see Benimaru kick one of the masked assassins in the stomach to send them skidding along the floor. They weren’t supposed to make a sound, even if their bones were snapped. Joker lit up three cards to deflect his opponent’s whip sword, keeping his eye on the other whilst shouting over to the other man, “Oi, not that one, Mr Almighty - I got business with the Little Lady.” Maybe it would be considered cheating; the way he had used a hallucinogenic on the Captain. Scaring the shit out of the man before dicing him up into pieces. Dead was dead.

Joker took a deep breath and straightened out his clothing, the adrenaline was buzzing under his skin from finishing off his once Captain, a man who had been hard to erase from his scarred mind and nightmares. However, things just weren’t that easy, now he had to deal with Leonard Burns and he was out of drugged up cigarettes. “Really?” He turned to face his old acquaintance, “So to get the holy scriptures, I’ll have to defeat you…”

“For someone who has been hiding in the shadows, this is pretty daring of you.” Captain Burns wasn’t surprised to see who had been causing all the trouble, there were only a few people as dumb as Joker to attach the Church head-on.

The dark-haired man spread out his hands and called up his cards, “That’s because I don’t want the truth to stay hidden…”

Leonard took a breath and beckoned to him, “Come.”

They were at the ready to fight and then Benimaru’s voice broke the heavy tension, “Sounds like fun. Let me join the fight too.” There was a long pause, a three-man standoff that ended with Leonard turning his back on them and declining to fight - much to Joker’s surprise. It had been a strange turn of events but now Joker had a neutral ally in the church and more evidence that something stank in the Empire. That just left his other business… Y/N’s body shook uncontrollably in the corner Benimaru had forced her into, he had tied up her wrists and around her body to secure her arms to her sides, “Whatever it was that you used to send these bastards mad also affected her, figured I’d tie her up for her own safety.” The younger man crossed his arms and watched silently as Joker knelt beside the assassin to remove the faceless, white mask, he could see that the woman’s eyes were blown wide and tears streamed down her cheeks - he wondered what she was seeing in her head.

Joker’s voice was quiet, his tone soft as he started to undo the ties, noting that they were quite intricate knots that indicated Benimaru had certain hobbies with ropes, he smiled gently as he eyes tried to focus on his face, “Hey there, Little Lady. You’re a bit high but I promise it’ll wear off in a few minutes.” Her eyes widened all of a sudden and Joker flinched as she began to scream, Y/N’s legs kicked at him and began begging for her life. “Please, please don’t kill me! Not like that, don’t cut me up into pieces! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I- I’ll… I’ll do it myself but please -!” She had betrayed him, she had played his heart and his mind, poured her drink over him as he bled out; she deserved his punishment but she couldn’t stand being tortured anymore. “I’m begging you… Please…” Y/N’s voice began to break and she was sobbing too hard to be understood.

Joker stared at her in silence. Watching the woman he still loved fall to pieces and begging for a swift death. He pulled a playing card out of his breast pocket and lit it up - she had always liked his card tricks before but the sound of the burning card only seemed to terrify her more. Y/N cowered into herself, her freed hands covered her head as she buried it into her knees. “Tch!” Benimaru’s click was loud enough to be heard over Y/N’s whimpering and he stepped closer to them, the air rippling with heat as his crimson eyes lit up, “Revenge is fine but I’m not gonna let you fuck up some woman who’s already given up.”

“Relax, Mr Almighty, I’m not planning on hurting her…” The card went out and Joker sighed almost sadly as he watched her, “This was a rescue mission too.” Reaching out, he stroked her head lightly, pointedly ignoring her increased sobbing as the man tried to offer her some sort of comfort, “It’s just the hallucinogenic making everything worse.” Feeling Benimaru come off the offensive Joker began to hum some nonsense song to Y/N, picking her up into his arms once he realised she was paralysed with fear - it was time to leave the Shadows and monsters behind.

[willadisastercry]

The part where they pick up the pieces...

tw: discussion of blood, severe breathing difficulties, impalement, loss of conciousness, setting of a bone, needles, near death of a character

Part 2 of everyone gets whumped...

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

The ride back to the castle was less than ten dobashes, but it felt painfully longer.

Before Green’s paws even touched the hanger her ramp was already setting down to reveal Coran and Allura anxious to board.

Lance struggled to stifle the groan that the rumbling of Green’s jaws opening produced deep in his throat, setting alight a new fire in his shoulder when the jolt of it sent him forward, the metal still deep in his thigh shifting and letting a new spurt of blood well up and add to the small puddle forming underneath him.

Hunk clamped his hands over his ears and took several shakey breaths before he was certain he had pushed most of the bile that had risen up back down, shifting uncomfrotably to cover his eyes in the crook of his arm in anticipation of the inetsense lighting of Green’s hangar.

Keith didn’t fare well upon arrival either. He had been fighting the darkness that slowly clouded his vision as the pressure in his chest mounted, but the sudden landing sent him sprawling and all the spots he was sore and aching seemed to beat with a new fury as his vision wavered against his ragged breaths.

“I’ve got Pidge! Someone needs to grab Keith and Lance—no you’ve done enough buddy, let her help you...” Shiro ordered as he rose to his feet with Pidge still cradled against his chest, some soft cries escaping her mouth when he leaned back and hefted Hunk up as well.

He ushered his apologies while he waited for Hunk to orient himself before letting his grip on his arm go.

“Um... so you’re saying missing a shoulder bone is a common human injury?”

“More like misplaced, but yeah, wait—PLEASE do not touch, oh my god! Just because it’s missing, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, it’s still there Allura...”

Coran knelt beside Keith who had waved off the helping hand at first but the effort of even bringing himself up to his knees sent him into another coughing fit. The world before him spun and the pulse behind his eyes raged harder than ever, muffling everything the altean said to him before he found himself slumping into his embrace, the sound of his chest rattling was harsh and unnerving.

“Oh, my boy... alright, brace yourself,” was all Coran uttered before hefting Keith up and over his shoulder, the movement producing a stiff sigh while his arms shook from where they clutched then hung down limply as his chest contracted.

“Just relax, number four. Relief will come soon.”

They were just leaving Black’s hangar behind when Pidge uttered her first coherent words, she was mumbling for Shiro and then for Matt, her voice hitching and breaking when she called out for her parents. Shiro just shushed her and cradled her tighter into his chest as he tried his best not to break himself while he ran as fast as he could.

Hunk made his way slowly, using the wall heavily while he fought to keep his balance, Allura checking in on him every now and again when he would stumble while she fought Lance.

His good arm slung around Allura and his injured shoulder hanging unnaturally low as he limped along, his injured leg barely able to hold any weight now.

“This is silly Lance!”

He refused to be carried even though his legs shook so badly his balance was nearly as skewed as Hunk’s.

“What could possibly be so silly ab—agh!”

Allura had stepped away from Lance who lilted and was forced to catch himself by putting weight onto bad leg, biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying out.

“I’m done entertaining this,” the Princess stated before sweeping a grumbling Lance onto her shoulders in a fireman carry.

“Just be glad your travel size,” Hunk sighed wearily.

Coran and Shiro were the first to arrive and activated the sliding doors of the medical facility.

“This bed here, Shiro!”

“Wait, bed? Why not a pod?” Lance asked worriedly.

“I am most disheartened to say that only one pod is adaquately charged at the moment, I’ve redirected the castle’s power to charge a second but the system sustained substantial damaged during the fight... it might be a while before a second is operational,” Coran noted grimly, setting Keith down to sit on the edge of the bed across from the one Shiro was settling Pidge in.

“For now we must assess who truly cannot afford to wait and should it come to it we will conduct the healing process in stages.”

The (semi) walking wounded were just making it into the room when Keith let out a particulary wet hack and wiped the blood that came away off on his sleeve.

“Oh alaran, okay... Allura where are your mice?! We need these suits off now so I can begin my assessment and we don’t have enough hands!”

Coran tossed Shiro a pair of scissors who took over peeling the shredded suit away from Keith’s front, slowly revealing the giant welt that seemed to be his chest and side, all varying degrees of purple and red. His labored breathing made it difficult to work around and slowed the process, so he ended up leaving the more precise work of his shredded back for Coran.

“We must determine who can do without a healing pod for now...”

The mice were doing a swift job of Pidge’s suit while Coran attached wires to her chest and inserted an IV in her arm after getting both arms through a gown. There were dozens of wires now on her small body, a thingy on her finger, a canula around her ears delivering more oxygen though her nose. There also soon dozens on bandages.

The mice picked the large pieces of metal out of her wounds while coran wrapped gauze down her arm and thigh before moving to fully asses her stomach under a dense pile of white already soaked through.

“Pidge first,” Keith rasped as he look across to his teammate, so lifeless and small on the bed. He knew she was physically smaller than the rest of the team, she always had been, but never before had her tiny form scared him like this.

She remained unresponsive and bleeding from way too many places, another puddle quickly forming under her on the bed. Coran was murmuring nonsense about her vitals while preparing a pressure bandage for the largest of the leaking wounds on her stomach. Once it was covered it seemed to stabilize her and made the blaring machines quiet of which Hunk was very thankful for.

“Shiro, wave this scanner over number four’s chest and tell me the extent of the damage. Allura, cut three out of his suit as well, wrap the metal in place with this, use the scanner after. Then scan Hunk’s head, he’s look a tad green, maybe grab a bucket for the lad.”

Allura settled Lance down in a chair next to Hunk who helped himself to an ice pack and tried to keep from passing out or throwing up as he waited, the mice settling themselves on his shoulder and licking his face when his eyes fluttered shut.

Barely any of Lance’s suit survived Allura’s scissors. She cut the entirety of his right sleeve into bits so as to not disturb his shoulder, then rummaged around in the cabinet for a sling. It went on with some protest, but ultimately the stability of it hurt less. 

“So strange how a cold block revlieves pain for humans... seems a bit barbaric to me.”

“It’s not barbaric, it’s heaven,” Lance hissed as she secured the last pack with the altean equivalent of an ace bandage and he shook under the delightfully painful sting of the cold against his throbbing shoulder.

Hunk leaned back in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut, somewhat reliving the exhausting spinning he experienced when they were open as another wave of nausea washed over him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his dinner down much longer.

“You’d better stay awake number two, haven’t had a look at that third eye yet,” Coran almost laughed at himself, but somehow he couldn’t as he worked Pidge. 

She was too pale. Too quiet. And while he had managed to somewhat staunch the bleeding for now, he couldn’t remedy what had already been lost. Not with gauze. And not with the pod.

But Keith’s breathing was taking a turn for the worst.

Shiro peeled the last of the top half of Keith’s suit from his arms and asked Allura to help hold him steady while he scanned the already dark expanse of his chest. 

His eyes were glazed and his breathing was very labored now, not much getting in and not much coming out.

There was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth now, the stream almost steady.

The scanner blared red as it passed across the front of his body. Four broken ribs, several others bruised, and a pulmonary contusion. The cuts on his back were superficial mostly, some deep and wide enough to need stitches. But that was all expected.

What wasn’t expected was the bleeding in his abdomen.

His liver. The damage was extensive.

Coran looked over when Shiro relayed that bit, Keith was pale and shaking now, the effects of blood loss ringing true.

He was at Keith’s bed in a second, holding his head up limply so he could secure an oxygen mask on his face, his skin was warm to the touch and his face glistened with sweat. 

He had no idea how the boy was still coherent, let alone sitting up mostly on his own.

Coran began attaching wires all over to track his vitals, ignoring how he winced under the touch, his head remaining in the crook of Shiro’s arm where it had resided after Allura left with the scanner.

The mix 100% oxygen and an altean herb that relaxed distress seemed to bring his levels up and calm him down. It somewhat and soothed the burning in his throat, but he continued to wheeze, the rattle in his chest as present as ever.

“Can you hear me, lad?”

Keith’s eyes lidded and he looked around, searching for Coran who lifted his chin up and shined a light across his eyes. They were sluggish but followed it accordingly.

“Shiro get him on his side. Begin cleaning the wounds on his back and removing all of the debris. Call out his oxygen saturation every few minutes. All we can do is monitor his internal bleeding for now, but if his breathing takes a turn he’s going into a pod immediately and the shrapenl cannot be there if he does.”

He returned to Pidge and flicked through her chart with all of his diognositics on it shaking his head.

“I need Lance scanned, and pricked,” he said after a moment of deliberation, holding up a finger pincher for blood typing.

“Shiro and Hunk I also need you pricked... actually maybe not Hunk just yet.”

“M’ fine,” he protested, barely able to string coherent words together, the mice squeaking in protest.

“Pidge needs a blood transfusion before she goes into a pod, if I put her in now without having stopped the bleeding... she may bleed out in a matter of minutes, and with the rate that Keith is losing blood into his abdominal cavity, he will too.”

“No need to type everyone, I’m compatible with both. Universal donor, baby! Take my beautiful blood,” Lance beamed holding his good arm out.

“We’ll have Shiro typed as well, you can only give so much since you’re also injured.”

“Pshh, take as much as you need.”

Allura rolled down the remnants of his sleeve until it slipped off.

“Hook up his vitals, Princess. Can you start IV fluids and the donation line like I showed you?”

“Yes, I think so...”

“Think so? You are not—OUCH, hey! Well... that wasn’t so bad.”

The princess stifled her laughs as she attached a bag of fluids to the IV she placed in Lance’s hand, then tied a rubber band around his bicep.

“Shiro, can you finish dressing Pidge’s more minor wounds? Pack the gauze on before you tape, and don’t fret about being gentle. I’d like to take a look at Keith’s chest for myself... Princess after you’ve started the first donation can you type number one?”

Everyone uttered in agreement and Coran sighed as he left Pidge to switch with Shiro.

He sat on the side of Keith’s bed and picked up where Shiro had left off on his back, holding together the wider gashes with surgical tape and packing them all with gauze as well. Only a few needed stitching, but he packed them with gauze for now before bandaging.

“I’ve got to take a look at your front, my boy,” Coran noted as he shifted Keith from laying more on his stomach to completely on his side.

His face scrunched up in discomfort when he did.

There was hardly a spot on his front untouched by darkening bruises, each in different stages of purple and red.

He waved his scanner over the darkest spot on his side just as Lance cried out, the results would take a dobash to calibrate.

“Fuck, AGHhh, owh Allura! I—mmph” Lance kicked his feet out to keep literal tears from escaping his eyes, then clutched at his leg when kicking shifted the rather large metal spire still inside of it, and grimaced again when all of his movement agitated his shoulder once more.

“What is going on over there?!”

“I may or may not have bumped into Lance’s mangled shoulder...” Allura said guiltily as she held Lance firmly in his seat while he squirmed, scared that he was going to continue hurting himself or pull out both of the vital needles in his good arm.

“Erm, Coran you might want to take a look at this,” Allura postured once Lance had calmed down enough to let her move the ice pack, he was exhausted both from the pain and the energy it took to thrash given almost an entire pint of of his blood was now in a bag next to him, not to mention what he’d already lost.

Coran left the scanner as it loaded it’s prognosis.

“Shiro, what did you call this strange phenomenon?” Coran asked as he mused over the lack of shoulder bone at the top of his neck.

“His shoulder is dislocated...?”

“That’s to say, the head of the joint is in another location?”

“Yes...?”

“Where then—oh. Oh, dear. How does one go about correcting this? Altean joints are connected by seemingly much stronger tissues and tendons... this is most unusual,” Coran asked nervously as he looked over Lance’s shoulder to his back where the missing bone was protruding from.

“You put it back into place. I’ve seen it done, it’ll hurt but you kind of just pull depending on which way it went out...”

Coran waved the scanner over it and it blared red, corroborating Shiro’s diagnosis.

“Very well, number one, Lance’s shoulder is indeed dis-lo-cated. You said to just... pull?”

Coran asked quizzically as he removed the sling and took up Lance’s arm straight out in front of him.

“HOLD UP—GAH!”

Lance was thrashing once more and cradling his arm now, sweat dripping from his forehead as he panted.

“How was that, number—“

“HOW WAS THAT?! That was awful! It’s also still not back in place and... jeez, is it warm in here or is that just me?”

Coran waved the scanner over Lance’s shoulder once more.

“Hmm, the injured muscles appear to be spasming. It seems the joint cannot be reduced unless the muscles and the patient are relaxed, the scanner advises a muscle relaxer be injected in the area...”

“Will this do, Coran?” Allura was holding a vial and syringe she had just pulled from the cabinet freshly restocked of human medicines and vaccines.

“Yes, princess! This may sting...” Lance had no energy left to protest. He barely even felt the needle going into his shoulder, though he doubted he’d ‘barely’ feel what came next.

His head hung low as he braced himself, a steady, thumping heart beat the only thing he could really hear at that point. He vaguely wondered if he should tell Coran he was seeing stars or not, thinking it wouldn’t matter in a minute anyway.

“Shiro, can you hold the boy steady... yes, like that. Okay, deep breath number three.”

Lance had just began sucking in a huge breath when Coran pulled on his arm and Shiro pushed on his chest, keeping his body still while the tension on his arm slipped the joint of his shoulder back into place with a satisfactory pop!

He couldn’t even feel the pain or relief that came with the reduction of the injury because his head lolled forward to rest on Shiro’s forearm, his hands on his chest the only thing left keeping the exhausted boy upright as consciousness dripped away and he slumped further.

“Lance!”

“Crap,” Shiro exclaimed, pushing his weight back against the chair and holding him there.

“That’s enough blood from you,” Allura said as she stopped the donation.

“All vitals normal except... blood volume, but that’s expected... heart rate elevated, that should return to normal soon... and blood pressure extremely high, yep. Right, so the boy has passed out,” Coran stated as if that fact wasn’t already blatant enough.

“Think we knew that already,” Shiro laughed blandly, Lance’s head still in the crook of his arm.

“Allura, can you start the line for the transfusion on Pidge?”

She nodded as she unhooked the line from Lance and brought the bag of blood still very warm over to Pidge’s bed.

“Can you set Lance up in a bed for me while I check in on Keith?”

“Yes,” Shiro gruffed as he carefully lifted Lance, trying not to jostle either of his injuries.

Keith hadn’t improved when Coran returned, the IV fluids and oxygen only preventing a further decline in his condition.

“This isn’t good my boy,” he mused, flicking through the report and brushing his hair out of his eyes. He leaned into the touch, his face filled with desperation and slick with sweat from his constant efforting to breathe.

Coran let out a rather aggressive sigh.

“I need a 14 gauge needle.”

“14 gauge? But that’s for... “

“Yes, I am afraid the pressure in his lungs is building and if i don’t decompress now his contusion will progress into a tension pneumothorax and cut off oxygen to his brain and—thank you. Keith...”

He reached for the mask on his face and tried to garble out a few words but none of it was coherent through the wheezes that came with them.

“I know, my boy. Relax, you will feel much better in a moment, I’ve got to roll you onto your back now—I apologize for the discomfort.”

Keith groaned at the new orientation and soon his breathing nearly stopped altogether, his body spasming and his face twisting up as it was deprived almost entirely of air.

It wasn’t just the injuries on fire underneath him, the fluid that had built up in his lungs and chest cavity had moved to block what little air he had been managing to make it in.

“I’m sorry,” Coran offered as he pressed on his chest right next to his sternum and just below his collarbone than found the third rib down and stabbed the large needle into the intercostal space between it and the next.

He had taken the inside of the needle out so it was just the tube that was now letting out a high pitched hiss as the pressure in Keith’s lungs dissipated. He heaved gratefully, choking and sputtering on the renwed ability to in bring air, his throat aching dryly and his head buzzing while blood rushed back up to it.

“Vitals stabilizing... oxygen saturation increasing... blood pressure steady... heart rate lowering... blood volume still dangerously low... How’s number three? Keith also needs a transfusion.”

“Lance can’t give anymore, he’s still out,” Shiro said as he rearranged the wires attached to him and took the needle left from the donation out.

“Allura says I’m B negative. What is Keith?”

“He’s AB positive, you’re compatible but I have reservations about the Galra component of his blood... if he were donating I’d be more hesitant, I just don’t have enough expertise in this area to be confident that he won’t react as if you weren’t even compatible...”

“Just-just do it,” Keith croaked almost inaubidly. “Do it so Pidge can go in the pod. I’ll be fine, j-j-just do it.”

“Alright, number four, but you tell us if anything feels wrong, okay? Allura can you prep Pidge for the pod?”

Shiro dragged a chair over to Keith’s bedside and rolled up his sleeve. Coran tied a rubber band around his bicep and started the donation then went to Keith and got him set up for the transfusion. The line coming from Shiro’s arm connected directly to Keith’s, a small monitor tracking how much was being distributed.

Neither boy said much of anything for a while, both staring helplessly as Coran and Allura situated Pidge in a healing pod. It was dimmer than usual and seemed slower to activate, but Pidge hadn’t moved so much as an inch and didn’t seem to mind the wait.

It was only when Lance woke up again that either were aware their eyes had drifted shut. They didn’t remain that way for long though...

LOL didn’t think there’d be a part 3 but here we are, I apologize.

[ofieugogyshz]

Fic;; This Will Get Better, ch. 7 - Rotomdex

Chapter content warnings: none

Word count: 3500

Chapter Summary: Having cleared the first Trial with ease, Mustard gives the students of the Master Dojo and its guests a few hours before starting the next one. In that time, Sarah decides to update her Pokedex, and meets Hyde, the son of Honey and Mustard. When everyone comes back for lunch, Mustard announces what the next trial is!

(Fic Masterpost)

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

Mustard announced that there would be a short pause before the second trial. I decided to take the time to look into getting my Pokedex updated. I didn't need it to be upgraded to a full, complete transfer over to a new device-- in fact, I hated that idea. I wanted to update the information in mine with that of Galar's, so that I'd know about any other regional variant Pokemon, like those three Slowpoke from earlier. I was going to need at least that much while we stayed here and trained.

“Do you know if there's any way that I can update my Pokedex while I'm here?” I asked Miss Honey. “Those Slowpoke didn't respond to Pika's Thunderbolt like I expected, and if we're going to be here for a month, I'd like to be able to know more about the local Pokemon.” While I spoke, I dug my Pokedex out of my bag, one that dated over 20 years old. I saw the surprise on Honey's face and let out an annoyed sigh, expecting yet another comment about its age. “I know, I know, it's old, but I've been able to keep it upgraded; the insides are far more up to date and have more memory than the original model did. Honestly, this is just a shell, but it's the same shell that I've had since I started out as a trainer.”

“Why... That's amazing that you've managed to keep it functioning after all this time!” The unexpected praise caused my face to warm up. “I wouldn't know how to upgrade that myself, but if there's anyone on the Isle of Armor that could, it'd be my son Hyde!”

“Hyde?” I tried to think back on everyone that I had met so far. No one introduced themselves with that name, and no one had said anything about being Honey and Mustard's child, either. She must have caught my confused look and nodded, as though remembering something.

“Yes, of course. You haven't had a chance to meet him yet-- he doesn't like to come out of his room often, and prefers to play with his inventions instead. If you go over here...” Honey pointed me towards his room. “...you'll probably find him inside.”

I went down the path she pointed, until I found a nameplate that said “Hyde”. I knocked on the closed door; there was no immediate response. I thought about knocking again when the door opened, and I had to look down to see a small child, maybe around age 8 or 9, looking up at me with an almost condescending face.

“What do you want? I'm kind of busy right now, so make it quick.”

“Oh, um. Uh... I'm looking for Hyde. Do you know where I could find him?” As soon as I said it, I knew that I had asked a dumb question. I had expected someone much older, given Mustard's age. Was Honey just that good at hiding her age, or... I did not want to think about that.

The little boy let out an annoyed sigh.

“Yes, that's me. Geez, why are you even knocking around if you don't know who you're looking for.” He started to close the door, and before I could stop myself, I put my hand on it to keep it from closing.

“Wait! Sorry, I just... Didn't know that you were going to be.... Um....”

“A kid?” He rolled his eyes at me. “Did you need something from me or what?”

Rude little shit. He was quickly getting on my nerves. But if his mom thought he could help update my Pokedex...

“Yes, actually, I did need something from you.” I held out my Pokedex. Hyde's grip on the door loosened and he adjusted his glasses to look at the device in my hand.

“What is that?” he asked incredulously.

I let out an annoyed sigh.

“It's my Pokedex.”

“I've never seen a Pokedex like that.” He motioned if he could take it, and I handed it over. He looked it over, opening it to look at the screen that had been replaced more than three times over the years.

I was attached to the old model of Pokedex. I felt bad when I had to scrape the insides out in order for someone to build a new computer inside of it, when times changed and technology improved far more than it could keep up. When information began to take up too much space, I paid someone to change its storage capacity, along with everything else. I had invested so much into it. Time. Money. Emotions. Experiences. It was my pride and joy as a trainer, having that model; where others had upgraded as soon as they could, I still clung to it, glad to relive memories that were forever etched into the casing. It wasn't just about the data-- data could be saved, duplicated, and moved. It was about the attachment, the memories it held for me. And upgrading to a new shell meant that I wouldn't have that connection to those old days anymore.

“It's a little bit older than you,” I said after a few moments of letting him look.

“Looks older than my dad.”

I could hear a snort of laughter from behind me, and I turned around, seeing Lance standing there, trying not to laugh. I crossed my arms, frowning at him.

“I'm sorry; I came to look for you, and--” he began.

“You're in no position to talk, mister 'listens to music from the 1800s',” I scoffed.

“1900s. And that's not even that old!”

“It may as well be the 1800s, old as your soul is!”

“Can you two stop your married bickering?” Hyde interjected. The small child looked annoyed: he was tapping his foot, arms across his chest, waiting for his presence to be noticed again. “I want to get back to work on important stuff; I don't have time for your old people nonsense.”

I couldn't tell whether I should have laughed or been appalled at that comment, while Lance seemed amused.

“Is this... is this how you treat people who want to ask you for favors?”

“You came to me; I don't see why I have to help you.”

I puffed out my cheeks, trying to hold back any rude comments. Kid or not, I wasn't above telling them off. But he was the master's kid, and my husband was there now, too...

“What's going on?” Lance asked.

“I asked Honey if she knew where I could get my Pokedex updated, and she suggested that I ask her son.” I jerked my head in the direction of Hyde. “But I'm starting to think that this was a waste of my time.”

“Look, I don't know how to update something that old. But I can give you a Rotomdex for you to use. I feel a little bad giving it away since my mom got it for me to use next year, but I'm not interested in doing the Gym Challenge. You want it or not?”

“Not particularly.”

“A Rotomdex would make it a lot easier to get around here,” Hyde began saying, as he continued to look over my ancient device to understand it. “They have maps, camera function, voice-based communications, and they're controlled by a Rotom, who are able to talk by using the installed voice libraries. And it's lot quicker for me than trying to figure out how this thing works.”

I thought about it. A Rotomdex sounded interesting, for sure, but the thought of using it felt off. It would be too different from what I was used to. Like I'd have to give up using my old Pokedex because of the new one.

“You'd just need a Rotom to put into the device. Trust me, out here you'll want a Rotomdex for the map system. It'll help guide you around the Isle and provide you with information on the area. It's really easy to get lost here.”

“Yeah... I won't need that. I've never gotten lost. I have a pretty damn good internal GPS; I can intuitively find my way to the place I need to be.” It wasn't even some sort of sixth sense developed over years of travel; I had always known the quickest way out of a route, cave, or forest. Even a trip to the distortion world in my younger years was disorienting at best, but I hardly got lost while in it. Still was not on my list of favorite places to go.

“That doesn't happen around here. Lots of overconfident trainers think that they don't need to use a map, and then they wind up getting themselves lost, especially in the forest. We usually have to wind up sending out a search party, like we did with you when you got here.”

“Excuse you, we were not lost!” I crossed my arms and huffed. “We were misinformed on how to meetup.”

Hyde handed back my Pokedex. It seemed that he was done with me if I wasn't going to take the offer for a Rotomdex. There was a quiet pause as we waited for the other to speak.

“If you're done here...”

“Ugh, fine, I'll take the d—stupid Pokedex.”

“It's a Rotomdex,” he corrected. Hyde opened the door to his bedroom all the way and invited both my husband and I inside.

It looked more like a workshop than a bedroom. There were many computers, all sorts of machinery scattered about. Cables were bundled up together, but that didn't stop the few spare ones creating tangles across the floor. There were boxes around the room used to house different components he kept.

“Sorry about the mess. Mom's always telling me to clean up, but I don't see the point if I don't usually have people over.”

Hyde went over to a cabinet in the corner and began to rifle through its drawers, trying to find something.

“Right...” That felt familiar to me. I was the same way when I was a kid, though I certainly didn't have the vast array of mechanical and computational skill as he did. I looked around and noticed something that was near his computer; it looked like a machine that he was working on, blue in color, and shaped like some sort of bird that I wasn't familiar with.

“What're you working on over there?” I asked, both curious and trying to be friendly with the kid. He was giving me a free Pokedex, after all.

“Oh that? That's my Cram-o-Matic. It's the invention of the century! It's my very own brilliant take on recycling. But it doesn't do a thing right now, since it's out of power. If I just had enough Watts...” He paused. “Hey, actually--! I can give you this Rotomdex if you can do a favor for me!”

I knew there was gonna be a catch. I sighed.

“Sure kid. I can try; what do you want?”

“Watts. All it would take is a measly 500 Watts to get the Cram-o-matic up and running!”

“Watts?” I looked at Lance, and he shrugged. He didn't seem to know what it was either.

“The two of you don't know?! Watts are the energy that you can get from the Pokemon Dens in the Wild Areas. Your Dynamax bands can absorb it whenever you're near one, and then we can transfer that energy into the machine or a battery with a cable!”

I looked at Lance; he was the only one between the two of us that had a Dynamax band.

“We don't have any right now, but would it be possible to pay you back later?” he asked.

Hyde tapped his foot against the ground as he thought about it.

“What are your names again?”

“I'm Sarah, and this is my husband Lance.”

“You're the Champions that my parents invited over for training, right?”

“That's right.”

“You guys are probably more the outdoors type, huh? Well, I'll loan this Rotomdex to you for now, Sarah, so long as you guys promise to pay me when you get the watts. Then it's all yours.”

“Yeah, that doesn't sound like an issue for me. Though, it might be a little bit before we get any. That okay with you, Hyde?”

He began to dig into the drawer again, and finally pulled out a flat, red device, about as wide as the Switch I had packed in my bag. He waved it at me. “No problem. Well, let me know when you've got a Rotom to put into here, and I'll help set you up.”

“If you guys had a PC, I could get that done right now.”

The kid lit up, as though proud to lord this incoming fact over me.

“It just got delivered this morning, while you guys were out doing dad's first trial! I watched the guy set it up.”

Hyde showed me to where the dojo's PC was. I connected to my account and withdrew a Rotom-- one that I had caught back in Sinnoh many, many years ago. It zipped around excitedly when I let it out, like an old friend who hadn't seen me in a long time. I directed it into the Pokedex. The screen lit up a light blue, and two large blue eyes, much like a Rotom's, appeared on the screen.

“Hi? Hello? Hello! It is I, your trusty Rotom, Plasmastar! So good to see you again, Sarah!” The Rotomdex floated around; not nearly as fast as the zippy Ghost-type Pokemon typically was. But it seemed overjoyed nevertheless with its new home.

Hyde grabbed the Pokedex, causing the Rotom inside to give a startled cry. “If you don't mind, I'll help talk your Rotom through proper installation, so it's familiar with how to use all of its components. It'll take at least an hour though.”

“An hour?!” shouted my Rotom, and it tried to pull itself away from Hyde's grip. “I don't have time for that! Please, please, don't leave me with him!”

“Sorry Plasmastar. But please bear with it, so you can help us. I heard you'll be able to read the map really well and be super helpful to us, if you do!”

It stopped tugging. “Super helpful? Say no more, I am glad to be of service!” I'm not sure what it was trying to do at that moment, but there was a flash that went off, temporarily blinding Hyde.

“Oops! Sorry about that, small human! I'll listen, but you better make it quicker than an hour! I want to go explore with Sarah again!”

Lance and I went outside to look around the dojo. Pokemon played in the grass; the groups of Jigglypuff and Buneary from yesterday saw us and ran up, excited to see us again. I reached into my bag and let out the two that I had caught so they could see their friends.

“Ellie, Bunbun! C'mon out!”

The Jigglypuff and Buneary appeared. They looked around while their friends stood in awe for a moment, before clamoring all around them excitedly. Ellie puffed herself up with pride, and began to tell her audience about her battle. She mimed out what happened, eventually getting Bunbun to play the Mienfoo. Though Bunbun was reluctant, she eventually joined in. She got so into it that she was suddenly going off script, including a lowkick when Ellie was supposed to dodge another punch, causing Ellie to bounce into the ground. Angry, the Jigglypuff began to yell at the Buneary, while the other turned around and stuck up her nose. Their audience didn't know what to do at this point, so they wandered away, going back to playing in the grass.

As amusing as it was, it wouldn't do me any good if my two newest members were fighting amongst each other. I walked over and pushed them apart.

“C'mon guys. Bunbun, apologize to Ellie; and Ellie, calm down. You asked her to do something she didn't want to do anyways. This is a consequence of that.”

Ellie huffed and turned away, crossing her arms while Bunbun continued to do so. I sighed.

“Please? If the two of you make up, I'll give you each a treat.”

At the promise of a treat, the two of them looked at me, before turning around and looking at each other. Bunbun smiled and apologized, and Ellie smiled and puffed herself up, as though proclaiming that she was in the right anyways. Bunbun looked away, pretending not to be annoyed by the display. Both of them looked at me, holding out their hands expectantly.

“Hey-- wait, I never said I was going to give you a treat right away! They're back in the Dojo; you'll have to wait 'til later for one.”

Both of them gave me an angry look and turned away from me, arms crossed. Well, at least they were in unison on that.

“Eheh.... Alright, how about the two of you c'mon back.” I held up my Pokeballs and they both went back inside.

“Trouble with your new friends?” Lance asked. He had let Zweilous out while Ellie and Bunbun entertained their audience, and the two-headed dragon was biting onto sleeve of his uniform.

“Nothing that I'm not used to.” I motioned to Zweilous. “On the other hand, I think I should be asking you that, except I know that's just how Zwei is. Did he break through the fabric already?”

Lance laughed and pet both of their heads in sequence, causing each one to finally let go of the loose fabric. He brought up his arm, looking at the sleeve. “No, not yet. He's just hungry. We should go back inside and get something to eat for lunch.”

Everyone had gathered in the dining room once more, with plates and bowls left out in the Dojo's main hall for our Pokemon. Zweilous ran over to the nearest bowl, both of his heads fighting over bites. Pika ran up to the bowl next to him. We let out the rest of our Pokemon, leaving them to eat while we headed towards a spot at the table where we could sit next to each other.

“Thank you, Ms. Honey!” everyone said before digging in. Chatter filled the dining room between bites, and everyone felt so warm and welcoming. No one seemed to begrudge us for having defeated all three Slowpokes, including those who never even got to catch up to one. In fact, many were excitedly speculating about what the next trial might be. I looked around the table, wondering if Hyde had joined everyone, or if he had missed the call to lunch. I couldn't see him. The din of the dining room began to lower as everyone filled up on the food made by Ms. Honey and the students who helped with meal prep. The final peals of laughter and conversation were silenced when Mustard stood up and addressed everyone.

“A-hem. I'd like to congratulate everyone who did their best this morning with the first trial. To those of you that weren't able to pass—may you have better luck next time. Take this time to train up! For those of you moving on to the second trial, I will take the time to explain what your next trial is. Now that you're all energized from lunch--” Mustard paused mid-thought, as though something came to mind.

“I think our second trial should be something to welcome them with. You know what would sound good for dinner tonight? The Master Dojo's secret recipe: Max Soup! Since we have two special guests, I'd love for them to have a bowl of Max Soup full of Max Mushrooms for tonight. And that's why your second trial shall be mushroom picking!” A collective, confused reaction, interspersed with some groans, went out among the students. I blinked, confused myself. How was gathering dinner ingredients supposed to be a trial? If anything, it sounded much easier than the first. Someone whispered to another student that they were glad they hadn't passed.

“Students!” The dining room quieted once more at Mustard's raised voice. “That's better. In case you forgot, or you aren't aware, Max Mushrooms are the key to Gigantamaxing, and I'm tasking all of you with finding three!”

Honey stood next to Mustard, explaining what we were looking for. “Max Mushrooms are red with a spiral pattern. You can usually find them in dark, humid places, such as the forest or Warm-Up Tunnel.”

Mustard, “And with that, your next trial begins! I'm countin' on ya!”

[melonlthawne]

Cookie Jar

Pairing: Meloni Thawne x Don Allen

Characters: Meloni Thawne, Don Allen, Bart Allen

Universe: AU

She just needed 15 minutes to rest. A little slither of time to refresh her constantly depleting energy. Taking care of a toddler was a lot of work. Taking care of a superpowered one was even harder. Impossible, even. She grossly underestimated her son’s ability to cause trouble and now she had a problem in her hands. 

Find it on Archive Of Our Own

---

Bart had kept both Don and Meloni up all night. He adamantly 

to go to bed at 8:00 pm, having to be chased down by Don and practically wrestled up the stairs to even get him ready for sleep. Luckily, Meloni was able to spoil Bart into staying still enough to change into pajamas, only with the help of a chocolate chip cookie. She knew using food as bait was something she’d kick herself for in the future, not wanting to incite bad habits in the kid, but right now, she was battling exhaustion and a hefty headache, so it’d do. Still, it worked, and after a few minutes of fussing and shushing the child, he was pulled into sleep. Meloni and Don both sighed in relief; the couple trudged off to bed themselves. And in a heap, both parents collapsed on the king-sized bed. Meloni first, having no super-speed or extra stamina to keep herself together. Don fixed her position, lifting up the covers and getting her into a more comfortable spot, before he too crawled into bed. He wrapped his arm around her, fixing her hair out of her face, before he pecked her on the cheek, and went off to sleep.

Or so it seemed. 

Throughout the night, Bart had night terrors. It was something that came with being a part of the Flash family and being exposed to the horrors of the World. Don was shocked awake 15 minutes later when he heard Bart wailing at the top of his lungs, screaming bloody murder. He bolted over, afraid there was some sort of attack, only to find his son hunched over in bed, face wet with tears and sweat, still battling visions from his nightmare. 

Getting the little one to calm down was not easy, and Don knew that. His sister and himself had dealt with similar things before, back when Barry was still alive. Nightmares almost every week, over whether or not his dad would return home or survive the next adventure. If a villain would find out a secret identity. Something of the sort. He wished it didn’t plague his own son’s life. But it seemed like it was too late for that. 

Regardless, Don sat with him and tried to soothe the boy, in any way he knew how. After 10 minutes or so, he could get Bart back to laying down, staying close by his side, holding the kid’s tiny hand in his own. How tightly Bart gripped his hand...it made him frown. A bit longer, and Bart was back asleep. Don wiped off more sweat from the kid’s forehead, giving him one more squeeze with his hand before he got up and went back to his room.

But this repeated at least 8  times in one night. Almost every hour and a half, Meloni or Don was awoken by a shrill scream, and they’d have to take turns calming Bart down and lulling him back to sleep. So at the end of it all, neither of them got a good night’s rest, on top of already being exhausted. It was horrible. It was one thing to have a restless night. It was another to have to witness your own child relive the same torture every 45 minutes, knowing there was nothing you could do to actually help him except calm him down. 

--

The morning came, and surprisingly, Bart seemed well-rested, not too shaken by his bouts of nightmares. He seemed chipper after being awoken, even though there were still dried tear-tracks on his chubby cheeks. Don and Meloni weren’t as lucky. Both showed obvious signs of being tired but they had to put it aside for their son’s sake. Meloni helped Bart out of bed and went to start the day, Don sleeping in a little to try and rest it off. 

Meloni sat in the living room, staring down at her cup of coffee. It was untouched. She didn’t even have an appetite, really, too distracted by her exhaustion. But she knew if she didn’t take any measures to stay awake, she’d end up falling asleep and risk Bart being unattended. Bart was in her lap, muttering something, occasionally gazing up at his mother’s pale face and tilting his head, only to refocus on something abstract or nonsensical. Meloni was grateful Bart was easily enamored by toys or other distractions. It made her life a little easier at times, especially now, when she could barely focus on staying awake. She thought if she waited it out a little more, she’d be okay. Maybe the long haul would be best. But slowly, she got lost in her thoughts, and then her eyelids drooped, and within a matter of a minute, she was asleep. 

The drawl of sleep lured her in. And it felt so relieving. She would’ve probably slept the entire day if she was left alone. But after 15 minutes, she was shaken awake by a loud shattering sound. She sat upright in her seat, whipping her head in every direction to try and figure out where the noise had come from. She had no clue, and it wasn’t until she looked down and found Bart was no longer in her lap that it hit her. He probably was messing around and something ended up breaking. Oh god. The image of the broken glass and a possibly injured toddler enveloped her, and she bit the inside of her cheek so hard she could feel blood pooling. But the metallic taste also drew her out of her thoughts and she heard another loud sound from the kitchen. It sounded like someone struggling to open some sort of container. She got up and headed towards the noise, and to her relief, it wasn’t as macabre as she pictured. 

Bart, SOMEHOW, managed to get on top of the counter, knocking a glass container over the edge, and it was left in pieces all over the floor. She wasn’t sure how he accomplished that, considering how tiny he was, but she supposed with enough effort, anything was possible. He was sitting cross legged with a jar in his arms, hugged close to his chest. One arm kept the jar wedged in place. The other was busy trying to pry the lid off. His tongue was stuck out and his eyes all focused in determination, but he just didn’t have the strength to pull it apart. And, evidently, the jar had a very clear label Bart had grown to recognize: Cookies. 

“Bartholomew!” Meloni yelped, voice desperate. She was so exasperated by it all, really, and even though this could’ve been way worse, it was still upsetting. They were so lucky he didn’t end up getting hurt. 

Bart’s eyes widened as he came to terms with the fact he was caught. Damnit! He was so close to eating the entire collection of baked goods inside. Bart’s face paled, and the toddler turned his head to look at his mother, almost terrified but more so guilty. Still, he didn’t speak; Meloni could hear his troubled breathing. She approached, making sure to step over the broken container, and carefully pried the cookie jar out of his hands. 

“No!” Bart yelped, trying to regain control of the jar, only to fail miserably and look up to his mother with a huge pout and adorably angry eyes. Face beet red, too. He was not happy to get caught, and for his masterpiece of a plan to be foiled so easily!

“Bart, what did I say about climbing on the counter?” Meloni exclaimed, hands on her hips; the cookie jar still in her hold. 

Bart peered down, and unconfidently replied. “Not to?”

“Exactly.” Meloni placed the jar down on another counter top, far enough to where Bart couldn’t scurry past and grab it. 

“I was hungry.” He pitifully argued, kicking a socked-foot in no particular direction, just to express his disappointment. 

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Look at the mess you made!” Meloni pointed to the ceramic pieces all over the floor, to which Bart had seemingly glossed over. Bart panned down and whined, looking away in protest. 

Before Meloni could get another reprimand in, her husband came bolting in, a little too late. Apparently awoken by her screaming and not the commotion of Bart climbing up and causing the chaos. 

“What’s going on?” Don asked in a huff. But after reviewing his wife’s displeased expression and the scene around him, he came to a conclusion and muttered a brief “Oh.” 

“I fell asleep.” Meloni told him, locking eyes with her husband. She was rubbing her opposite arm, feeling like a lousy parent. “If i had been asleep for any longer, he might’ve gotten hurt. Or stepped in those pieces. Or, I don’t know, died of a cookie overdose?” 

“Relax.” Don told her, taking her hands in his own and rubbing them in a soothing manner. “We were up all night. It’s not your fault you got tired.”

“I should've been paying attention, Donny.” Meloni still hung her head, face paling, eyes settled on the floor. Bart stayed silent as he watched this exchange between his parents, unsure how to react. But he felt it necessary to stay out of it. 

“It’s okay, babe.” The eldest speedster pulled his wife in for an embrace. And for a brief moment, Meloni forgot all her stresses and was lured into it, sighing as she pressed her head against her husband’s chest. They stayed there hugging for what felt like an hour, only for it to actually be a minute or so. When Meloni seemed collected enough, they released each other, and both parents turned their attention back to Bart, who was apparently planning on trying to escape. However, he couldn’t do this without making noise, and as he tried to travel down the side of the cupboards, a small foot missed, and he yelped, only to be caught and hoisted into his Dad’s arms. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little man?” Don brought his son up to his height, holding him securely so the little tyke couldn’t squirm away. 

“I wuh-wasn’t going anywhere.” Bart tried, and Don grinned, making his son somewhat nervous. Meloni shook her head, but smiled too, feeling too tired to be harsh about this. 

“Don’t do that again, okay?” Meloni told her son, reaching out and cupping his cheek with her soft hand. Bart leaned into the touch, still frowning and feeling a little crappy from the stunt he pulled. 

“I promise.” The little speedster managed, relaxing a little. 

“See?” Don eyed Meloni, who rolled her eyes. Regardless, a smile was still on his face. “He’s alright. I can clean that up and it’ll be like it never even happened.” 

Don transferred Bart over to Meloni, who took him in earnest, lifting her son in a better position on her hip. The kid leaned against his mother’s chest, peering at the two, wondering what was going on. 

“And when it’s all cleaned up, I think we both deserve a nice 

.” Don called over, purposefully enunciating the last word. 

“Nooo! I’m not tired! No more sleep! Sleep is stupid!” Bart countered, practically rioting in his mom’s arms. Meloni smiled deeply and winked at her husband, before responding, “That sounds like a good idea.” 

[glynnisi]

ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020       FOR  @ava-rosier      

At Ao3:  Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :)  But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange.  I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier .  I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED.  Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy.  He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday.  That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”  

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

 Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it.  Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

 Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it.  Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other.  They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more.  Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust.  Darcy closed her eyes.  It was futile.  Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year.  In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn’t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind?  Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What?  You okay?”

Darcy nodded.  “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don’t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

 Fin

[kristallioness]

Awakening and healing

Summary: Aang and Katara help each other deal with the aftermath of the coup.

Word count: 2,200

Author's note: I blame this post by the Pentapox After Dark community on Facebook. You all should know by now that these medicine/healer-themed prompts are my weak spot (and I'm very pleased that you're exploiting that weakness). So in return, I shall warn you that this story contains quite a bit of angst, mixed together with some tender moments. Set post Coup of Ba Sing Se, when they're on the captured Fire Navy ship in "The Awakening". The scene picks up from the moment where Aang realizes that Katara had brought him back to life, and she tells him he needs to rest. There's also a reference to a heartwarming headcanon I wrote about in "An undying habit". You don't need to read that one to understand what's going on here, but I highly recommend it. *promotes*

----------x----------

She let him loop one arm around her shoulders for support as they wobbled towards the bed. It'd merely been a few hours since he woke up from his near month-long sleep. His muscles weren't strong enough to carry the light weight of his body too far yet.

"Gentle.." Katara murmured in a motherly tone, stooping down a bit to help Aang lower himself onto the mattress. She could hear him breathing heavily through the aches that plagued his torso.

Her warm hand pressed against the fresh dressings that she'd wrapped around his chest. Just slightly below the angry scar hidden underneath on the back, which she'd finished healing a couple of minutes ago.

She held onto his hand with the other one, her grip as tight as his own, not wanting to let go until he'd settled down. If it was up to her, she would never let go again.

"There.. Let me help you with that."

She reached for the crumpled blanket on the footboard and flung it open, allowing the thin cloth to fall down and cover him up. Not that he'd get cold, since these chambers on the ship were hot like the inside of an oven...

But Aang wanted to be nice to her. If anything, she deserved to be around him after everything they'd been through. He let her bustle about until he felt that she'd done everything to help him feel as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances.

He winced when she eventually perched on the edge of the bed. His spine seemed to be extra sensitive to any sort of movement after the intense healing session.

"Are you okay?"

Aang groaned, letting out another deep breath ever so slowly to get through the pain that tingled its way up to his shoulders.

"Ugh, I'm in a lot of pain, Katara."

She gave him a weak smile as she adjusted the top of the blanket, folding it over down to his stomach.

"Are you just saying that to get attention from me?"

"Yes, medical attention," Aang said sternly, grimacing again when he pulled his hands out from under the blanket and rested them on the dressings that covered his middle. Katara's smile turned into a frown and a small blush creeped up on her cheeks. She'd completely misinterpreted the situation.

"I'm sorry! Does it hurt anywhere? Do you want me to heal-"

She kept apologizing and examining him for any evident injuries she might've missed. Her nervousness started getting on Aang's nerves as well. He didn't mean to get her in such a tizzy.

He stopped her by grabbing her wrist to get her to stay still. They stared into each other's eyes in utter silence for what felt like a full minute, neither one daring to make a move. He spoke up, a bit more tenderly this time.

"No, you've already done enough."

He gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze, but that didn't convince her. Katara didn't wanna give in so easily. She pulled her hand out of his grip, her face full of seriousness and concern.

"Nonsense. Tell me, where does it hurt?" she insisted. Aang slowly averted his gaze, tracing the path along her extended arm and onto the hand she'd placed on his right shoulder. He moved it around in a circular motion, trying his best to hide another grimace.

"My right shoulder."

Katara gave him an assuring nod, summoning some more water from the bowls she'd used during the healing session. The cool liquid that she waterbended beneath her palms lit up as she began healing his shoulder.

The truth was, it didn't just hurt in his right shoulder. But if that gave her something to do and stopped her from worrying so much, it was worth it to let her focus on only one thing at a time.

It was relaxing, watching the gentle movements of her fingers tapping the skin around his shoulder. Those healing hands had clawed their way out of the catacombs and safely onto Appa's back so they could escape. So she could save him. She was like a guardian spirit to him. Without her, he wouldn't even be here.

"So.. what happened that night? After I.."

Aang paused, swallowing to take the time and phrase his words in a way that wouldn't break her heart.

"..Fell? What happened in Ba Sing Se?"

"Shh.." she hushed him like a little child, but remained silent, too. Sadly, that's what they still were - young kids torn into a world of devastation and destruction. And out of all the people on that ship, she'd single-handedly witnessed the worst of it. The sight of the world's supposed saviour, the last airbender, the only living descendant of his people, their leader and moral compass, their friend, her best friend.. No, the potential love of her life, dying right in front of her.

Aang patiently waited for her answer, allowing her to continue healing in the meantime. But Katara never mustered enough courage to retell the events to him. Not yet. She'd just gotten him back, and she wasn't ready to relive those feelings of despair again.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay? It's a long story."

Aang's heart sank for her. She didn't even wanna look him in the eye when she spoke to him. What sort of hell had she been through these past weeks? And was he the reason why she seemed so cross with everyone around her, including her own father? That wasn't the same sympathetic Katara he knew before.

Aang couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed. Ashamed of having made her suffer so much because of him. Because he hadn't been strong enough to protect her, or Ba Sing Se, or the Earth Kingdom. And it was all because he'd chosen her over his own spiritual needs. Because he loved her. He loved and treasured her so much that it'd cost them the fate of another nation. It was an incomprehensible mess, to say the least.

She noticed a cloud of worry come over him when he knitted his brows, nuzzling the side of his face into the pillow to focus on her hands doing their work once more.

"Aang?"

He looked into her blue eyes, as if he wanted to say something to her. He would've wanted to pour his heart out to her. About what'd happened, how he was forced to choose between her and the sake of the world, what he truly felt for her. But his thoughts never escaped his lips. At least she'd gotten his attention.

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head against the silky red material.

"No. I need to think about some things."

Katara nodded solemnly as she finished healing his shoulder. She waterbended the leftover water back into the bowl. After that, she cupped his cheek and leaned in closer to whisper.

"Like I said, you need to rest," she agreed. Aang closed his eyes just as she got closer. He felt her leave a tender kiss right in the middle of his forehead, probably on the tip of his arrow. Maybe the old Katara was still in there somewhere.

He stared back at her while she repeatedly caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. The soothing sensation started to make him weary. He yawned before asking.

"Aren't you going to your own room?"

The corners of her mouth curled into a fond smile.

"Don't worry, I will. I just wanna stay here with you for a little longer."

Aang didn't mind her keeping an eye on him. Knowing that he was surrounded by her company, as well as his friends and allies, put him at ease.

His mind was reeling in so many ways that right before he began to doze off, he realized he hadn't heard her leave the chamber. But he did hear her shift on the bed, and a moment later, he could feel something heavy on his bare chest.

He opened an eye to peek at what was happening. He startled a bit when he saw the crown of her head right below his chin.

"Uhh, Katara? What are you doing?"

She was taken aback by the sound of his voice. Katara hastily sat back up and turned her back towards him, desperately trying to hide her flushed face behind her hand.

"Nothing! I'm so sorry! I was just, uhh.. force of habit."

Force of habit? Did she do this all the time when he was unconscious? Aang wasn't entirely sure whether he should feel flattered or creeped out. But since she seemed more flustered than he was, he figured it was the former option. He felt bad for making her feel uncomfortable.

She was fiddling with her braid when he slipped a hand out from beneath the blanket to poke her thigh. Katara was still blushing furiously when she turned around to face him.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

He entwined his hand with her own, the one she'd hid her beautiful, but crimson face behind, giving it a slight tug to invite her closer.

"Please, stay. I'd feel safer with you here, watching over me," he begged, clenching their hands together. He managed to earn that loving smile out of her with that gesture. If she hadn't been blushing so hard, he would've witnessed her cheeks turning red again.

She scooted over to him, uttering one final word for the night.

"Okay."

Katara felt relieved that he hadn't asked her to leave him alone after that awkward mishap. She'd gotten used to being by his side almost all the time, so much that she'd forgotten to keep her guard up around him now that he was awake. She wasn't sure how she could fill that empty feeling inside if she had to go and sleep in a separate cabin.

This time, she was careful. She waited, tenderly stroking the short hair on his head until he fell asleep. Once she was certain that he was out cold, she went to pick up her Fire Nation cloak. Having buttoned it together with the brooch above her chest, she returned to the only bed in the room, and simply lay down beside him.

Katara pulled the red cape over herself like a blanket and got as close to Aang as she could, so she wouldn't fall over the narrow edge of the bed he'd left her, in case she turned around through her sleep. But it had to do.

She let her hand run down his cheek one last time before she rested it above his heart. He was back. After weeks of care and observing him breathe and lie completely still, he was finally awake and moving about. She still couldn't believe it.

Katara thanked the spirits for bringing him back to her, to all of them, to the rest of the world. She didn't know how much longer they.. Correction, how much longer she would've survived without him.

As the corners of her eyes became misty, she no longer had to hold back her emotions. She wept silently, without him or anyone else seeing or hearing. The only proof being the small damp spot on the pillow, where her teardrops ended up by rolling down the side of her cheek or dripping over the crook of her nose.

Even when Aang wasn't staring into her eyes or talking to her, or pretty much doing anything, he still had a way of getting her to open up to him. She considered that to be a remarkable power. This was the first time she'd cracked since they'd left Ba Sing Se.

Katara rubbed her wet cheek into the pillow and sniffed, so her nose wouldn't get too clogged up from crying. She gazed at his face from the top of his short brown hair to the bottom of his chin. That was the mental image she wanted to remember and take along with her as she began to drift off into her own dreams.

By the time her weariness got the better of her, she could no longer recall the last time she'd slept so peacefully. No more nightmares about failing to heal him with the spirit water. No more restless nights when she felt it was her duty to watch over him all night long, in case he stopped breathing and nobody would notice. No more worrying about whether she'd done enough as a healer. Just the two of them, sleeping together for the whole night without fear.

Aang could only echo her joy. When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he saw was Katara sleeping right next him, her hand reaching out across his chest. He didn't know whether she'd intended to cuddle up to him or she'd been too tired to go to her own bed, but it was a sight worth waiting for.

He tenderly stroked her cheek in return, to which she moved her head and nuzzled her nose into the pillow, but luckily she didn't wake up. It was the best sleep she'd gotten in the last couple of weeks.

[officialchoicestrash]

Hopeless Romantic (Maxwell x MC)

Pairing: Maxwell x MC, Drake x MC (platonic, former feelings hinted at)

Rating: M

Warnings: Drinking, angst, cursing

Summary: Lucy drinks away her sorrows and talks to Drake after realizing her feelings for Maxwell aren’t quite as in the past as she had thought.

Notes: Takes place during TRR2 chapter 6, after Maxwell's fake proposal.

Lucy regretted even suggesting the idea. The moment played over in her head, again and again, forcing her to relive each painful moment.

-

"No photographer can resist the chance to catch a big moment in the making."

"Good idea, Maxwell. We should fake a proposal!"

Of course, what could go wrong? The man you once loved faking a proposal to you? Great plan, you idiot.

Minutes later, the two were ready to put their plan into motion. Maxwell winked at her as a photographer passed by the table; it was time to put on a show.

"Lady Lucy, there's...something I need to say to you. Tonight, I discovered something about myself. Something I suppose I've known was true for a long time, but...I couldn't admit it to myself until now.”

Fuck, go back, go back. She could already feel her heart hammering in her chest.

“There was always something missing, a piece of me that wasn't there. But then...then something unbelievable happened. Tonight, I've realized what I've been missing. And it's like my eyes are opening for the first time!"

He slid down onto one knee, gazing at her with the tender affection she'd always hoped she'd see, the kind of affection that was in her eyes whenever she looked at him. And now here she was, listening to him echo her own feelings, only for it to be part of a ruse.

A lump formed in her throat, "I don't understand." Was it possible that he felt the connection between them? Something that wasn't entirely platonic?? 

"Lucy, now that I know, I need the world to know."

Lucy felt her stomach churn, what part of her thought this was a good idea?

She felt herself choking up, feeling as if she had played some sick joke on herself, "Maxwell, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I love..."

Her heartbeat moved all the way up to her ears. How had it taken her this long to realize that her feelings for him were far from gone, that he had remained in her heart throughout everything that happened, that her love was stronger than she remembered?

"Gelato!" 

Even though Lucy knew it was coming, hearing those words stung--not that she had anything against gelato (at least, she hadn't before this moment)-- but some foolish part of her still clung to the hope that he'd love her too, that he'd use this moment to confess his hidden love for her.

Maxwell grabbed a bowl off a platter from a server passing by, eagerly scooping the chocolate into his mouth. Lucy sat there, motionless, everything around her fading as her ears began to ring.

Maxwell continued to make a show out of eating his dessert, which was almost gone, and glanced at his friend, signaling for her to do something. The show wasn't over yet, so she forced a smile onto her face, "I've never seen a love so pure."

---

At least it worked, she thought to herself, downing another daiquiri as she sat at the bar, waiting for the train to take off again. 

"Another, please."

The bartender sent her a pitiful look, "Sorry, miss, have to cut you off for the evening."

Lucy sighed: where else was she supposed to get alcohol? Bertrand had thankfully covered the fee for her cabin, but he made it clear that room service was off-limits. 

"We're dining at the finest restaurants in Europe; there is no need to pay for overpriced nonsense!" He'd said.

Suddenly, Lucy felt a presence on her right side and turned to her denim-clad friend.

He looked at her, brow furrowed, "Rough night Romano?"

Lucy laughed bitterly, "You could say that."

"Did you not get the reporter?"

"No, we got her."

"Well, that's good news, right?"

It should have been good news, but there was something more important on her mind, something she thought she had gotten rid of ages ago. 

"I'm in love with someone else."

A series of coughing noises erupted from the seat next to Lucy, and she turned her head, watching her friend recover from her confession.

"Romano, you know that my feelings for you are long gone," Drake said. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Walker," she commented dryly, "I don't have any interest in you."

"Gee, thanks," he laughed, "so who is the lucky bastard?"

Before Lucy could answer, she was cut off from a loud noise on the other side of the train car.

"And I like to call this move the Kraken!" 

The two turned their heads, looking at their friend, who was now demonstrating his dance moves to a clearly tipsy group of passengers. And as Drake watched the smile, the complete look of adoration, on Lucy's face as she watched Maxwell shimmy across the floor, he knew the answer.

"Oh," Drake realized, "I thought you were over that."

In all honesty, Lucy thought she had gotten over it. There was a time when she was foolish enough to hope that Maxwell felt the same way she had. When she realized that wasn't the case, she had moved on (or at least tried to). She focused on Liam and tried to be the woman he deserved, but when she thought about the future, it was never Liam at her side. No, she saw herself next to a cephalopod obsessed jokester, her sponsor, her best friend, the one who would never love her back.

Deep down, Lucy knew her feelings for the young Beaumont had never disappeared: she thought back to the way he ran through the airport and begged her to stay, the comfort he gave her when she thought everyone at court had abandoned her, the rush of giddiness she felt when Adelaide assumed her and Maxwell were together, the eagerness she felt every morning before he came to wake her up--despite the fact she was already awake (though she made sure he never knew).

"Fuck," she thought to herself, feeling the tears prickle at the back of her eyes, "Drake...what am I going to do?"

And for the first time since he'd known her, Drake saw Lucy look at him with complete and utter hopelessness.