#i am getting a deep tissue massage in the morning where they are going to really work on my arms/wrists/hands... pray 4 me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Stab Me In The Front

Part 1: America’s Asshole

Intro: It’s been a year since Katie was held hostage by Hydra, and whilst she’s still working through her feelings she has an idea about how she can make other people’s lives better as a result of her ordeal. Alongside this, she needs to take a trip to Boston to meet Harlan Thrombey-SIP’s latest author. Slightly nervous about taking a business trip alone after what happened last time, Steve offers to go with her.

What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSWFW)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So, here we go. This was a request/idea from @icanfeelastormbrewing for an Avengers/Knives Out Cross Over where Katie and Steve come face to face with America’s Asshole! The tongues are sharp and the knives are out! This is set in 2015 so way before the KO storyline so therefore contains no spoilers!

Oh, @angrybirdcr I bloody love this edit and banner- the edit you have named the Ransom pre- Steve-Rogers-fucked-my-face-after-I-called-his-wife-a-hoe edit...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

October 2015

“So, Mr Thrombey, that’s all confirmed.” Katie tapped at a key on her computer to lock the meeting in her calendar. “11 am, Next Thursday, the 15th ”

“I’ll send you through the zip code and location for your GPS.” Harlan responded “The house is just outside of Lincoln, not far from Pierce Park. It shouldn’t be too far for you if you’re staying at the Harbor.”

“Thank you.” Katie smiled as she spoke into her phone.“I look forward to meeting you on Thursday Sir.”

“Oh, less of the Sir, Harlan please. And the pleasure is all mine Miss Stark, I mean, Mrs Rogers, my apologies!” The man chuckled. “And thank you for accommodating my need to pull this meeting forward by a few days.”

“It’s not a problem.” She assured him. They exchanged pleasantries again and then she cut the call and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck, before she double checked the travel arrangements. The hotel was booked, flight was sorted, hire care was confirmed. All that she needed to do was not forget the annotated manuscript or the cover ideas.

The door to her office opened and she looked up to see Tony leaning in the doorway, waving a Starbucks cup at her, along with one of their familiar brown paper bags, clearly bearing treats.

“I love you, bro!” She smiled at him as he wandered in, chuckling, placing the drink and paper bag down in front of her. She looked into the bag and gave a moan when she saw it was a rather large, gooey looking brownie, and gave a bigger moan when she sipped her drink and found it to be a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. “Perfect Elevenses!”

“Well thought you might need one, you’ve been locked in here since seven this morning…”

“You got FRIDAY spying on me?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“No.” He denied, but at the same time the AI affirmed her suspicions.

“He has indeed had me watch you, Mrs Rogers.” “Traitor.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie chuckled

“Well I had all this Harlan Thrombey stuff to sort, Steve’s still in Copenhagen with Sam chasing the alleged latest sighing of Bucky.” She shrugged “Not much point in lying in when you’re wide awake is there?”

“True.” Tony nodded. “Are you going back to the Compound tonight?”

“I might just stay here again if that’s ok?”

“Kiddo, you own part of this Tower, it’s always gonna be your home too.” Tony shrugged, “You can stay as long as you want.”

“Thanks Tone.” she smiled. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt safer in the Tower whilst Steve was away, even thought it was ridiculous as the Compound was just as secure, being closer to her brother was a comfort.

“I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is.” Tony looked at her.

Neither had she. It was a year to the day since Bucky had pulled her out of that shithole in Canada and rescued her from her ordeal at the hands of HYDRA. With a little sigh, Katie pulled off her glasses, a lasting consequence of her period of capture and torture. Ever since spending six weeks in that constantly lit cell she’d needed glasses for anything that required a long period of concentration on a computer screen or monitor if she wanted to avoid migraines. Bruce seemed to think it was something to do with the fact that her cell had been painfully bright all the time and that continued exposure to artificial light in such a way triggered a subconscious response.

She ran a hand over her face and looked at her brother, swallowing down the sudden spike of emotion, and swallowed.“I’ve been trying not to think about it.” she said gently.

“Which is why I booked you and Pepper into the Dominick for the afternoon.” Tony smiled at her, reaching over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze. “Well, Pepper has, I’ve just given her the credit card. Apparently you’re in for a full deep tissue massage, facial and then Franco’s booked to do your hair, oh and don’t bother telling me you’re busy as I had your diary cleared and everything reschedule to next week” He sat back, watching as she opened her mouth before shutting it, shaking her head softly. “You leave in thirty minutes.”

“You spoil me.” She smiled softly.

“Anything for my girls, plus I thought it might keep you busy whilst Spangles is otherwise engaged.”

“He was hoping to be back but when I spoke to him before he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be.” she shrugged. “It is what it is.” Tony smiled at her before he stood up “Yes, it is. And this afternoon is your pamper time so get your shit together and meet Pepper downstairs.”

“Yes sir.” she said, saluting him with a grin.

****

As with anything Pepper or Tony booked, the spa was off the scale. Katie had been meaning to go for ages, and now, as she sat in the chair in Franco’s salon she was already searching available dates to go back. She laughed and joked with the stylist and Pepper, the pair of them enjoying yet another bottle of champagne as they had their hair done. A couple of hours later, at just gone seven, Pepper dragged her out over the road and into a ridiculously expensive wine bar.

“Feeling better?” Pepper asked as Katie took a huge gulp of her Sancerre.

Katie smiled. “Much, thank you.” “You know, I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than Steve about stuff.” Pepper looked at her “And it won’t go any further.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Katie sighed “You know, Pep, I see all these women out there that went through…well, you know, and I read their testimonies and I just wonder how they’re so strong, like, how can they can just stand up and talk about it?” She trailed off, shaking her head “And me? I just wanna pretend it never happened. So much for being an Avenger huh?”

“Hey.” Pepper shook her head, looking at her sternly. “Stop that, right now.” “Well it’s true.” Katie shrugged. “I mean, I’m a public figure right? But all people know is I was missing for weeks, and it was put down to a mission gone awry. I just, well, I feel like I should be out there, trying to make a difference, helping people.”

“Kiddo, what you went through,” Pepper swallowed, “I can’t even begin to imagine. And how you’ve dealt with and processed it, well, frankly I don’t know how you’ve been so strong. There is no shame in wanting to simply move on and leave it in the past.”

“I know.” Katie sniffed a little. “Thank you. Having everyone around me makes me realise how lucky I actually am. I’ve got a huge support network. Not everyone who goes through…well, not everyone has that to fall back on.” Pepper pondered something before she looked at Katie, “You know, we haven’t picked our Partner Charity for the Stark Relief Fund next year. We could make it one that deals with Sexual violence. No need to go into details as to why.” Katie considered that for a moment, before she nodded. “That’s not a bad idea.” She clicked her deep purple manicured nails against her wine glass, thoughtfully. “It would make a difference, right?”

Pepper nodded. “Absolutely. Give it some thought, see how you feel.” “I will, thanks.” she smiled.

****

Steve was exhausted but wasn’t willing to spend another moment away from his wife. So the moment the jet was down he headed straight for the garage, jumped on his bike and roared out of the compound heading down town towards Manhattan.

“Good Evening Captain Rogers.” FRIDAY greeted him as he pressed his palm to the access pad at the rear entrance from the underground car park “Mrs Rogers is in your apartment.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” he said, as the elevator began to rise. It stopped a few floors up, and when the doors flew open he was greeted by Tony who was undoing his tie.

“Oh, you’re back.” He looked at Steve appraisingly.

“You’re up late.” Steve remarked in response.

“Just working on a few things.” Tony said vaguely. “How was the search for Tin Man?” “Well, it was him alright.” Steve ran a hand down his tired face. “Few more leads to work on. We could have stayed out there for a bit longer truth be told but, well, I wanted to be here tomorrow, you know.”

The two men shared a moment of understanding, both of them having experienced unsurmountable raw pain and anguish over the weeks Katie had been missing and it wasn’t something they were likely to forget any time soon. If ever.

“She know you’re home?” Tony looked at him again. Steve shook his head.

“Wanted to surprise her.”

Tony smiled softly. “She’s probably asleep. Her and Pep have been in the Spa all afternoon and they’ve drunk a lot so…”

Steve gave a huff of a laugh. “Yeah she messaged me before saying you’d sent her there out for the afternoon. From the spelling mistakes in the text I figured there was a fair amount of alcohol that had been consumed.” He paused and smiled. “That was really thoughtful of you, Tony.” “Well it happens occasionally.” Tony sniffed as the elevator stopped at his floor. “Listen, Steve…” Steve turned to face him. “She’s not been herself the last few weeks.” Tony scratched at his beard and Steve took a deep breath.

“I know.” he said gently “I think she’s just, well, processing, if that’s the right word. We only got back from our honeymoon three weeks ago, and it kinda hit her when we got back just what time of year it was. Whilst we were away she didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Just, well, take care of her for me okay?” Tony looked at the Soldier and Steve nodded.

“Always Tony, you had my word on that when I told you I wanted to marry her, and I meant it.”

Tony nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before he left the elevator on the Part Floor level. It began to rise again and Steve let out a soft sigh. Tony was right, the last two weeks in particular Katie had been a little quiet, less vivacious, almost withdrawn even. At first he had put it down to post honeymoon blues, but Natasha had pointed out that this time twelve months ago she had been at the mercy of HYDRA, with those bastards brutalising her in ways that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about. For this reason, he’d been reticent to go on the latest mission but Katie had insisted, pointing out that they couldn’t not carry on with their lives and that she would be alright.

The fact she had basically moved back into the Tower for the three days he had been gone, however, made him think that she wasn’t quite as alright as she had told him.

The doors opened on their floor and he stepped out. It was mostly dark as he headed through to the bedroom where he found that the TV was playing on the wall, but Katie was fast asleep, one of the pillows clutched to her chest as a makeshift cuddle partner. With a soft smile he closed the door and headed over to the bed. Kicking off his boots he lay on his side, facing her, and brushed her soft hair back off her face before pressing a kiss to the bridge then tip of her nose and finally her lips.

She stirred, her face scrunching up in that adorable way it always did, before she blinked her eyes open. It took her a second to focus but when she did her lips curled upwards into a soft smile which became an ear to ear grin.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said softly, kissing her again, his hand cupping her face.

“You’re home.” She reached up to lay her hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well it worked.”

“I missed you.” He whispered, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as he leaned in for another kiss.

“Missed you more.” She shot back, her lips brushing his and he chuckled.

“Doubt it. How was the Spa?”

“Oh it was amazing.” She gushed, her eyes shining. “I had this deep tissue massage and the guy hit spots on my back I didn’t even know I had. The facial was great, and my hair…”

“I like the colour.” He smiled, gently moving his hand so he twirled a piece around his finger. The ends were slightly lighter than usual, almost a dark honey blonde, and it extended a little up the strands before evening out.

“It’s called ballayage.” She smiled at him. “I just fancied a bit of a change.”

“Looks good on you. And I’m glad you had a nice time, you deserve it.”

“How was the mission? Worth it?”

“Yes and no.” Steve shrugged. “We have a few more leads we can chase up but…” he took a deep breath “I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. He clearly doesn’t wanna be found.”

“The point is he’s your friend, your brother.” Katie moved her hand to run her fingers over his jawline, the pads scratchings lightly against his five-oclock shadow. “Maybe he just needs a bit of time to find himself first, that doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Besides, I need to give him back his jacket.”

“And I need to thank him. For getting my beautiful girl out and safe.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year tomorrow since he found me.” She said softly

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Huh?”

“The last few weeks you’ve not been yourself.”

She licked her lips and nodded “Yeah, I just, well, I didn’t give it much thought when we were on our honeymoon, you know, but since coming back and ramping up the Thrombey Campaign it’s kinda hit home a little.” And suddenly Steve understood. SIP were publishing the man’s latest book, “The Colour of Revenge” which was all about a Detective on the trail of a killer who was hunting down and dispatching of six men who had been acquitted of a gang rape and murder.

“Shit.” He let out a groan at the fact he hadn’t made the connection. “Honey, I’m so stupid not to realise that.” “Hey.” She frowned, “Don’t…” She reached up and smoothed the lines that had appeared on his brow and he let out a sigh, gently reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, bringing her hand towards him and placing a soft kiss on her wrist. “It’s better now you’re home.” She assured him gently.

He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss again.

“Is that everything?” He pressed and she hesitated again.

“I’m scared.” She admitted eventually, looking at him.

“Scared of what?”

“Going away, on my own.” The tears welled in her eyes. “I hate that they made me like this, Steve.”

He let out a sigh, he hated that she was scared too. She didn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t I come with you?” He asked, the idea suddenly forming in his mind. Katie stilled for a moment and he continued. “Not to the actual meeting, but I can drop you off and pick you up, hang around, whatever you want me to do.”

She looked up at him smiling softly, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t relieved he had offered. “Would you?”

“Of course.” He nodded, wiping the tears off her face. “You only had to ask.” “I didn’t want to. I know how busy you are here and…” “That can wait.” He held her face in his hands as he drove his message home. “You’re the most important thing in my life and if me coming with you makes you feel better then…” He shrugged “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.”

“I know we haven’t been back from our honeymoon long, but maybe we can make a little trip out of it if you like?” Her face was suddenly hopefully “Come back on the Saturday?”

“Sure.” Steve smiled at her. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh, Stevie you’re gonna love it.” she beamed, and he smiled at the way her face had gone from being furrowed with worry to alive with excitement. “Massachusetts is amazing in the fall and Boston is just stunning…” “Well I’ll make sure I bring my sketch book.” He smiled “Give me something to do whilst you’re in the meeting.” “Thank you.” She said softly. “I’ll book us somewhere nice to eat one night. Give us an excuse to wear something pretty.”

“Like you need an excuse.” He teased, and she nipped him harshly on the arm. He chuckled and then with a groan he unwillingly pushed himself up off the bed.

“I need a shower.” He said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”

“You better not be.” She muttered and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he headed into the bathroom.

True to his word, he wasn’t long. Five minutes, tops. But by the time he came back, the TV was off and Katie was fast asleep. Thinking back to what Tony had said, he found himself wondering if she had actually slept much at all whilst he was gone.

Steve dried himself off, stepped into a clean pair of boxers and then slid into the bed next to his wife, slipping his arms around her. Once her back was nestled snugly into his chest, he dropped a soft kiss to her neck and closed his eyes, happy to have her in his arms.

****

Steve woke the next morning to find his girl tangled around him. She’d shifted in the night, clearly, and now her face was pressed into his chest, right leg snaked between both of his, her right hand was slid under his arm, lightly gripping his shoulder whilst her left rested against her head, fingers in her hair. Smiling to himself he pulled her closer, relishing the feel of her against him. She murmured something incoherently as she gently moved, her cheek pressing into the hair on his chest, the hand around his shoulder slid down to the base of his back where her fingers simply rested, soft against his spine as she continued to sleep.

And Steve was quite happy to let her nap for longer, using him as her own personal cuddly toy.

He dozed in and out of consciousness again, drifting off for another ten minutes or so, before he felt Katie stirring in his arms, and a soft kiss gently being pressed to his jaw line. He smiled at the contact and tightened his hold on her again, his eyes still closed.

“Morning, Beautiful.” He said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Soldier.” She said, her cheek returning to his chest as she basked in the safety and warmth of his hold as his hand crept up the back of the stolen shirt she was wearing, his rough fingers ever so gentle against her skin as he trailed the pads up and down her spine.

“Sleep okay?” He asked, his eyes still not opening.

“Yeah.” She assured him, truthfully. It had been the best night sleep she’d had in days.

“Good. What do you fancy doing today?”

He felt her still and then she pulled back slightly, and at that he opened his eyes and blinked to see those gorgeous emeralds locked onto him.

“Are you not needed at the Compound?”

He shook his head “Kitten, I’ve not seen you for almost three days so I figured we deserved one together.”

She groaned “I have meetings this morning.” “That’s okay, I’ll meet you at lunch.” He said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She didn’t argue. She knew full well why he’d taken the time out, and frankly she adored him for it. Without saying a word she leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly became heated, but was shattered by the piercing noise of Katie’s alarm.

She gave a groan, and made to move.

“Don’t you dare.” Steve mumbled against her mouth, his grip on her tightening.

“Stevie,” She sighed “I gotta…”

He reached over, his large body flattening her into the mattress making her giggle as he swiped across the screen of her StarkPhone silencing it.

“You ain’t gotta do shit.” He said, hovering over her on his elbows. “Except me.” He added as an afterthought.

“Oh so you’re gonna to explain to the board why I’m late?”

“Well, to be honest,” he said, dipping his head to trail hot kisses up the side of the next, “they probably won’t even notice you’re not there. I mean, are you really that important?”

“Fuck you.” She giggled back.

“Believe me, I’m tryin’” he quipped, his mouth nipping at her ear lobe. That made her giggle even more and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

“I love it when you do that.” He whispered gently, using his leg to part hers, leaving a large thigh pressed against her mound.

“What?”

“Laugh.” His mouth moved up her jaw line. “It makes me happy.”

“You’re such a sentimental sap.” She mumbled, as his lips claimed hers again, the heat between her legs intensifying as the kiss grew deeper, tongues lashing against one another. Steve pulled back for long enough to pull his shirt over her head before his lips returned to hers and Katie’s hand slid into his hair, one hand gently winding into the longer locks on top, her nails on the other dragging against the hairline on his neck. His hands moved, one gently cupping the side of her face, the other, gently skimming over her breast, her nipples already hardened. He gently teased one with the pad of his thumb and his mouth moved down to the other, his tongue and fingers working in tandem. She gave a little involuntary twitch against his thigh and once more his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“You want something, Baby girl?” He asked, peeking up at her and she nodded.

“Stevie, don’t make me beg, please.”

And when she asked so nicely like that, how could he ever refuse? He hooked his fingers into the sleep shorts she was wearing and worked them down, before flipping down the waist band of his boxers. Katie bent her legs as he shuffled upwards and worked into her, the pair of them letting out a groan each at the stretch as he buried himself to the hilt. Steve’s hands fell to either side of Katie’s face as he held himself up on his forearms, kissing her deeply as he flexed his hips forward, again and again, picking up a gentle rhythm.

It was soft, it was gentle, it was loving, everything she knew her soldier to be and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing and groaning loudly, his lips assaulting that spot on her neck.

“So good,” he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper. “Feel so good, Sweetheart.”

“Keep talking.” She keened, arching into him as her hands raked down his back.

“You were made for me, God I love you Mrs Rogers. So fucking much.” His words were punctuated by his heavy breaths as she gave a soft cry, her head falling backwards, eyes fluttering shut as she tightened around him, her legs shuddering slightly as she came.

“Atta girl.” He panted, his hips becoming faster as he thrust through her orgasm, chasing his own. It wasn’t long before he felt the ribbons in his belly unravel and he came with a cry of his own, his head buried in her neck, hips slowing, thrusts going deeper before he eventually stilled, a loud contented sigh escaping his mouth.

After a few moments of them simply basking in the afterglow, Katie’s hands trailing through Steve’s ruffled hair as his nose slid against hers, she gave a sigh and pushed on his shoulders gently.

“Soldier, I really do need to get up.”

He pouted a little causing her to chuckle before he rolled off her and she pushed herself out of bed, heading for the en-suite. Steve watched her go before he swung his legs from under the covers,, found his boxers, pulled them on and headed down to the kitchen to make them both some coffee. *****

The idea had sprung to Katie as she’d headed out for lunch. The local shop was donating a percentage of its earnings that month to a homeless charity, and it set her mind whirring.

“So you want to donate, all the profit we make, from what is going to likely be the biggest book SIP will ever publish, to charity?” Tony looked at her.

“In a nutshell, yeah.” She nodded. “We can split it across various charities, all those that help victims of sexual assault, abuse or crime…”

“Isn’t that what the Stark Relief Fund is for?” Saul, the SI Finance Director looked at her and she turned to face him.

“Yes, but it isn’t just about the money, it’s about raising awareness.” She pressed “A lot of people don’t know those charities existed. Hell, I didn’t know about half of them until a year ago. If we do this, think of the publicity and the press and…”

She trailed off, looking at Tony. He could see the excitement shining in her eyes. She had a point, and it wasn’t like SI needed the money. SIP was her company after all, and if she wanted to use it to do something good, help people, maybe even help herself…then that was fine by him.

He shrugged and looked round the table “SIP’s vision was never about making money.” Katie beamed at her brother as she realised he was backing her “It was always about helping those who needed a hand to get their work out there…I don’t see why in this case, where they author is already so well-known we can’t use that to help those who need it.”

There was a pause and she looked expectantly round the table. One by one the board members seemed to concede, all of them that is bar their Legal Manager, Dan Robertson who was frowning.

“You’re going to have to bring Mr Thrombey on board Mrs Rogers.” He looked at her. “We can’t just use his book as part of a campaign without his permission.” “I know.” She assured him. “I’ve already realised that. I’m meeting him on Thursday next week, I’ll have a full proposal and pitch ready.”

There were a few murmurs around the table before Tony spoke. “Is that it? Are we settled?”

Everyone looked at one another, nodding, and Katie leaned back in her chair, smiling.

But, she wasn’t smiling now. She had less than twenty-four hours before they set off for Boston and her pitch was only half way through completion.

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s hands slid over her shoulders where she sat on the chair in her office. She looked effortlessly elegant, even in sweats and an off the shoulder sweater, one toned leg stretched out in front of her, the other bent at the knee so her foot was resting on the seat of the chair, her left hand was curled around her shin, her right was tapping at her keyboard, the dark blue framed glasses perched on her nose. “It’s late.”

“I know but,” she sighed, “this means a lot to me Steve. I need it to be right.”

Steve knew better than to argue. Instead he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “What are you stuck with?”

“I dunno it just…it all seems so impersonal.” She removed her glasses and wrinkled her nose as he sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room “Facts and figures on sexual assaults and stuff, we all know it happens, it’s about making people want to do something about it.”

“Are you ready to make it personal?” He asked gently, taking a deep breath. He hated thinking about what she had gone through, he truly did, and if he had half a chance he’d rip the bastards limb from limb. But if she was ready to confront what had happened to her, he had to be there to support and back her all of the way, regardless of his own feelings.

“I don’t know. I was talking to Pepper about this the other day. I should be able to, I should be someone other women can look up to, being an Avenger and all but…maybe I’m just not strong enough.” “You’re the strongest person I know.” Steve leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

“I don’t feel like it when it comes to this.”

“Honey,” he scratched at his head. “Without wanting to sound flippant, since January this year, you’ve been, okay, well maybe okay isn’t the word but you’ve gotten on with things. You’ve moved forward, we both did.”

“Because we were busy, and we had no choice…”

“Well maybe,” he shrugged. “But chasing down a sceptre, fighting Ultron, mobilising a new base, planning a wedding, running a business…it’s all time consuming, stressful stuff that if you really weren’t strong enough to deal with what happened, then it would have all gone to shit and probably tipped you over the edge into a nervous breakdown.”

She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she considered what he was saying.

“Honestly…” he continued, his eyes boring into hers. “If you want my opinion I think the fact that it’s the year’s anniversary of what happened that’s playing on your mind a little. You need to stop, look back and how well you’ve done and stop beating yourself up about all the things you haven’t”

She smiled softly and looked down at her hands before she glanced back up at him “When did you get so wise?” He chuckled “Well I am ninety seven years old.”

She laughed “You don’t look a day over twenty five.”

Steve smiled and stood up. “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, and you’re gonna stop overthinking everything and come relax. We’re up early tomorrow. You can do the rest at the hotel tomorrow evening.” “No can do, we’re going out.” Katie grinned at him “I booked the Chef’s table at Menton.”

“The what?” Steve frowned.

“You never heard of a Chef’s table?” She looked at him, and he shook his head. “Oh my God I’ve let you down, so badly. Check this out.” she tapped on her computer, bringing up the website and showed him the photos “It’s a private table with a glass wall that gives you a direct view into the kitchen. Totally impossible to get a reservation unless you book like a year in advance. Or name drop.”

Steve groaned. “You seriously dropped the Captain America wants a table line?”

“No, I dropped the Captain America’s wife want a table line.” She smirked, closing down the browser page.

“Pain in my ass.” Steve grumbled, standing up. But as he left the office there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

One that his wife had seen.

*****

“So, was it worth a name drop?” Katie asked as they walked back into the Fireside Lounge located in their hotel.

“I’m happy to overlook the fact you acted like a total brat to make that reservation, yes.” Steve grinned as he went to remove her coat from her shoulders. He looked her up and down, the tight black jump suit she was in was driving him crazy.

She grinned, and then shivered slightly.

“Cold?” He asked, frowning.

“A little, don’t wanna sit in my coat though.”

“Do you want me to nip up to the room, grab your cardigan?”

“Would you?” She asked, even though she knew perfectly well he would.

“Course.” He dropped a kiss to her cheek “You get the drinks in, be right back.”

She headed over to the bar. The bartender, Will, was the same one who had been on before so he greeted her with a smile.

“Mrs Rogers. How was your meal?”

“Fantastic thank you.” She smiled. “Can I get two Bourbon’s please? I’ll leave it to your choice, I’ll be back in a second, just need to nip to the bathroom.”

She excused herself and once she’d finally had the pee she’d been dying for since they left the restaurant, she set about touching up her make-up, smiling to herself. She’d deliberately picked this jumpsuit as she knew it got Steve’s blood pumping. It was a simple, plain black one with a V-neck line, but it was tight. Teamed with a thin red patent leather belt, matching Jimmy-Choos and purse all set off by the bright red lipstick she was sporting, she knew she looked good. Not that Steve had much room to talk, she could happily perve on him in the dark pants he was wearing, teamed with a tweed blazer and that damned blue shirt, his collar left open. Frankly, he looked good enough to eat, which she was planning on doing later.

She headed back into the bar and spotted Steve perched on one of the stools, blinking as she saw he’d changed into a simple brown, long sleeved tee, but then again he always did like to get out of his dress shirts as soon as they got home usually, so she wasn’t that surprised.

“Hey, Handsome. You changed.” She slipped her arms round him from the back. He felt different, he was softer than Steve was. He smelt different, there was a really heavy woody scent to his aftershave whereas Steve’s preferred Hugo Boss was a lot lighter and she realised with horror that Steve hadn’t changed his outfit at all.

This wasn’t Steve.

When the man spun to face her, Katie had to do a double take as the likeness was indeed uncanny at first glance, but as she blinked and looked at him she noticed subtle differences. His eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw line wasn’t quite as sharp as Steve’s and the smirk he wore on his face was nothing like the cheeky one Steve would sport. It was almost a sneer which spread across his face, every feature laced with disdain.

“What the fuck?” The man glared at her as Katie stepped back, holding her hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry, genuine case of mistaken identity,” she said, taking him in. His shirt was the wrong colour too, only she hadn’t been able to see that from the back.

“Yeah well if you’re touting for business I already got some today so get lost.” The man drawled in his light, Boston accent. “Like I just said I thought you were…hang on…” Katie frowned as his words registered “You already got some?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He looked her up and down, arching a brow.

“You think I’m a hooker?” Katie snorted.

“Pretty high end one though, I’ll give you that.” The man’s voice was now amused, as he nodded towards her chest.

“I’m not a hooker.” Katie shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh, sorry. Do you prefer the term escort?”

She rolled her eyes, flashing her left hand at him. “I’m married, this was a genuine mistake….”

She moved away from him to the side, nodding at Will who slid the check over for her to sign to charge the drinks to their room.

Ransom observed her for a moment, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break across his face. After another row with his stupid Libtard cousin and his mother who had been at his Grandfather’s house before, he’d come out with the sole intention of getting laid and then so drunk he could hardly remember his name. After a visit to one of his usual fuck pieces, he’d achieved the first part, now he was concentrating on the second. He’d been initially irritated by this woman’s interruption, but now she was getting sassy back, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He could tell she had money,that much was clear to see. The way she talked, held herself, was dressed. Whilst she wasn’t a hooker as he had originally thought (although to be fair to her, she was pretty hot, he’d consider fucking her if the opportunity arose), she was probably living off some seventy odd year old rich banker husband. Huh, maybe she wanted a fuck after all…frustrated little trophy wife.

“So, tell me. Does your husband know you’re here trying to tap me up?” He looked at her.

“You know, if I was trying to errr…tap you up, you wouldn’t be able to afford me” She shot back, signing her name on the cheque with a flourish.

“Try me.” Ransom smirked, making a show of looking her up and down. “How much for that ass?” “I’ll kick yours for free you self-entitled dick.” She glared at him before she slid the signed paper and pen back to the bartender.

Ransom gave a bark of a laugh “I’ll pass thanks.”

Katie snorted and glanced sideways at look at him, scarlet red lips pursed as she eyed him over her glass of bourbon. “Good decision, because I’ve dropped bigger men than you for fun.” “Sure you have, Dollface” Ransom quirked an eyebrow, elbow leaning on the bar, angling his body towards her. She kept hers facing forwards, arms resting on the bar top, her head shaking slightly.

“You have no fucking idea who I am do you?” Katie shook her head, not looking at the prick stood next to her. She hated using that line, but, well, when the occasion arose to get one over on a weasely little shit like this, she wasn’t going to pass it up.

“Why should I?” He snorted “I don’t know all the little bitches in Boston.”

Katie felt her mouth drop open and she was about to retaliate when Steve gently appeared by her side, dropping her cardigan over her shoulders.

Ransom recognised him straight away. He’d had it quite often, been told he looked similar to Captain America. So this meant the woman he’d been baiting for the last five minutes was his wife, Katie Rogers, sister of Billionaire Tony Stark, the Avenger, Supernova.

He’d called Supernova a hooker.

Ransom looked into his glass of scotch, turning away back to the bar, snorting with laughter.

“Sorry baby, Sam called and…” Steve stopped, frowning at the look on Katie’s face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She looked up at him, smiling and nodding towards a cosy sofa over at the other side of the bar. “You wanna go sit down over there?”

“Sure.” He nodded, picking up his glass of bourbon, he held out his free hand for her and she jumped down off the stool.

“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure.” She snarked to the man next to her “But I don’t lie so…”

Steve frowned, wondering what had gone down whilst he’d been away. He glanced at his wife and then turned to look at the guy that was sat on the stool next to where Katie had been to see if he recognised him and did a double take. He recognised him alright, but only because he looked incredibly like him. Granted, there were a few subtle differences, but the resemblance was uncanny, to the point that at a first glance in the street, you could be fooled.

“Pal, you should keep that bitch on a leash.” Ransom spoke, his eyebrows raising and in front of him Steve stiffened.

“What did you just say?” He frowned, pulling himself up to full height.

“Seriously, man. You save the world from Nazi’s, get frozen for seventy years and then end up marrying that.” Ransom smirked, enjoying baiting the Captain “I’d ask ‘em to put you back under…”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he felt his neck getting warmer. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that.”

“Steve, leave it, come on.” Katie gently placed her palm on Steve’s chest. “The guy’s a complete ass hole. If brains were dynamite I doubt he’d have enough to blow his head off.”

“Well if we’re talking about blowing,” Ransom looked Katie up and down before locking onto her eyes. “You up for the job?

Katie let out a bark of a laugh, her hand still on Steve’s chest which was positively humming with anger as she turned to face Ransom, contempt etched across every single inch of her face.

“Go jerk yourself off and wipe it on a curtain like your father should have done with you.”

“I’d rather wipe it in your hair.” came the quip back.

And that was it. That was the point that Steve Rogers snapped.

There was a loud smash, the glass he was holding shattered in his grip as his fist contracted in pure anger. Katie barely had time to realise what had happened before he had stepped forward and grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt, lifting him with ease, slamming him on the bar.

“Steve!” Katie pulled on his arm. “Baby, he really isn’t worth it, let go!”

“Captain Rogers!” Will behind the bar was desperately trying to talk him down as well “Please, don’t make me call security.”

Security! Steve wanted to snort. Like that would do any good.

“Soldier, come on.” Katie tried again, pleading to his reasonable side. “Look, we’ve had such a nice night. Don’t let him ruin it.”

Steve let out a deep breath, he wanted nothing more than to knock the asshole’s teeth down his throat, but he felt Katie’s touch on his arm and her pleading tone and he let go, shoving the man hard.

“I would tell you to apologise.” Steve snarled stepping back. His voice was steely, eyes carrying none of their usual warmth.“But I suspect it’s pointless”

“Yup.” Ransom nodded “Totally pointless.”

“Like your existence.” Katie mumbled, Ransom snorting in response. “Look, Drysdale, my manager’s told you before.” Will said, his voice laced with vexation as he shuffled from behind the bar to sweep up the glass that Steve had shattered. “Any more trouble and you’re gonna be banned.”

Ransom’s nostrils flashed angrily as he looked at the man “’I’m gonna be banned? Eat shit! He’s the one that just attacked me! He ripped my shirt!” he gestured down to where Steve had grabbed him, two tears either side of the buttons of his shirt “This is a Fendi!”

“Ransom, just shut up and apologise.” Will pressed again. “Or you’re gonna have to leave.”

“Fuck this, I was going anyway.” Ransom snarled, knocking back his drink. He stood up and pulled on a long, tan coloured camel coat before he glared at Steve then Katie “Really bad smell in here.”

Katie rolled her eyes, deciding to let him have that childish one without any fuss. But Steve didn’t.

“Close the door on your way out.” He watched as the man stopped, took a deep breath before angrily flinging the door open, his coat flapping behind him. There was a moment’s pause before it slammed shut.

“Sorry.” Steve turned, apologising to Will.

“He’s a dirt bag and a cretin.” Will shrugged, as he waved the apology off. “No redeeming features whatsoever. Well, none that I’ve seen and trust me, I’ve seen him a hell of a lot.”

“Is your hand okay?” Katie asked Steve gently. She turned his right hand over to see that there were no cuts at all from the glass, which was good.

“Yeah, fine, don’t worry.” Steve looked at her, frowning. “Honey, what on Earth just happened?” He asked her softly, as she took a deep breath, blowing it out of her mouth.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came back, well, I thought he was you from behind so gave him a hug.” She shook her head “Soon as I touched him I realised I was very, very wrong. I tried to apologise and he called me a hooker.”

“A hooker?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I told him even if I was he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

At that Will, who had been busy pouring them both another drink, laughed as he slid two short tumblers of bourbon back over to them. “He won’t have liked that at all.”

Steve nodded his thanks to the man as Katie looked at him. “How come?” She asked.

“Well, simply put, his family one way or another are loaded, and Ransom likes to be the flash bastard if you get what I mean.”

“What do his family do?” Katie asked, “I’ve never even heard of the Drysdales.”

“His mother and father run a real Estate Company.” Will shrugged, “A local one round Massachusetts, but you’ll have heard of his grandfather, or if you haven’t you’ve been living under a rock for the last twenty years.” “Who?” she asked.

“Harlan Thrombey, the crime fiction author.” Will replied, and Katie felt the colour drain from her face. She turned to look at Steve whose eyes had also widened, and she gave a groan.

“Shit.”

**** Part 2

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #ransom drysdale #mcu #mcu fanfic #avengers #marvel #marvel fanfic

51 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

Text

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 2

<- Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 ->

Summary: Chilton is is a dark place.

1,641 words

Ten days. Four surgeries. Twenty grafts. Eleven blood transfusions. Third degree burns to ninety percent of his body. The hospital had never seen anything like it—though Chilton was personally doubling the number of times they’d said that.

He was in and out of the hyperbaric oxygen chamber, the hydrotherapy tub, and in and out of consciousness. His only constant was pain.

Unlike pain, you couldn’t stay with him every hour of the day. You came in early every morning to check on him, though he was usually sleeping, and then after work, sitting with him until he fell asleep again. Sometimes you would only get a few minutes of him awake, he was so exhausted from the surgeries, heavy pain meds, and healing.

You were barely sleeping, and he was barely not sleeping.

When he woke up in the middle of the night screaming, heart monitor throwing a fit, limbs jerking hard enough to tear his grafts, it was to a dark, empty room filled with pale ghosts of plastic flowers. You weren’t there to hold him. Not that you could have held him, anyway.

Oh, how he missed you when you were not there to fill the tedious waking hours. His few other visitors were people he hated.

Dr. Bloom had stopped by once, to see whether she felt any remorse for the part she played in his present agony. In those early days, the horror of his appearance had seemed like a tasteless joke to goad her with.

“Your face did not change at all when you first looked at me,” he rasped. “Shock in seeing me is usually… delayed.”

Look at me! he wanted to shout. Look at what Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have done. Look what you did, Alana. Look at my face and be shocked, you fucking bastards.

He was shaking by the time she left.

But ten days, and his face was still a thing of nightmares. It made the joke less funny. This was not temporary, it began to sink in, and it was getting harder to maintain his pride. He became less and less comfortable being looked at by anyone. His teeth were bared, dozens of tubes snaked out of him, and he was swollen like a bloated corpse floating down the river.

Layers of cadaver skin were grafted all over his body. He felt like a cadaver. He wished…

When he was with the Dragon he had been so afraid that he was going to die, terrified for his own cowardly life. If he had known what torture surviving meant: protracted, cruel suffering without end…

His entire body was too hot all of the time, inflamed, red, and bleeding. He wasn’t producing enough red blood cells to replace the ones he was constantly losing. Between that and the bloody surgeries to remove dead skin, he had so many transfusions, most of the blood circulating through his veins was not his own.

And the nonstop surgeries were just to keep him alive another day, another hour—the nurses sighed with relief at the beginning of their shifts when they saw he hadn’t dropped dead.

As his skin healed, there would be more surgeries to prevent scar tissue from cutting off circulation to his extremities (he had already lost the tip of his remaining ear) and to allow his joints to move. Then, finally, the cosmetic surgery so he could one day walk about in public without hiding his face. Endless. Protracted. Cruel.

He wished he had died.

Being shot was a pleasure cruise by comparison. Even when his cheek was still tender and his head felt like it was about to split open, you could wrap your arms around his chest and stroke his back in calming circles. You would run your fingers through his hair and massage the tension in his scalp away. He missed his hair. And his scalp. He missed your touch the most.

Even your presence, when you were there, did not cheer him as much as he hoped. He longed for the day he could touch you again, but it was too far on the horizon to be worth much. It wasn’t enough. There was so much pain. He would never not be in pain for the rest of his wretched life. He wanted to die.

He hated everything he lost—everything that had been taken from him. It made him furious enough to keep the blood pumping through his veins when any well-adjusted mortal’s body would have slipped into a coma and let itself pass in peace.

Anger. Anger was the only thing keeping him alive.

***

Your voice was steady, soft, and persistent. Its musical cadence filled the darkness and surrounded him, embracing his dormant senses and sparking them to life with a warm electric hum that cut through the sleepy fog that had been nesting heavily there. He awoke.

“It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.”

He loved the soothing sound of your voice reading to him, but it make him feel like a child. Usually your presence comforted him, made everything better, but now it pulled him into the waking world where everything hurt. How can one find comfort when every inch of one’s skin is screaming? All his mind could focus on was the stab of annoyance at your patronizing tone.

“What is that drivel?” he scolded, crabby mood apparent.

You stopped reading, letting out a small gasp of surprise to find him conscious. You hesitated, moving your eyes avoidantly over the heart monitor, before cautiously answering, “…Frankenstein.”

It had seemed sort of clever when you started, but with his mood worsening all week, perhaps a story about a man who was made so hideous that all of society rejected and feared him was not a good idea.

“Funny.” he said. You winced.

You closed the book and set it in your lap. “How are you feeling?”

His chest rose and he let out a tired bark of laughter. “Wonderful.”

“Fred—”

“My skin is on fire,” he snapped. “My skin has been on fire since I was tortured and burned. Do not waste my time with brainless questions.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, even though it should have been him apologizing. A pang of guilt churned in his intestines. He wanted to take your hand, to pull you down onto the bed, crush your head to his chest, and weep into your hair so you would understand how he felt. But he could not do any of those things. His hands were swaddled in thick gauze mittens, and he had neither the strength nor flexibility to reach out to you—future surgeries would have to add flexibility to the stiff, contracted scar tissue around his joints. And you laying on his chest would not take his pain away like it did in his fantasy. It would be excruciating.

He could just say the words: Sorry for being an asshole. I am in pain, and I am scared, but you do not deserve to be treated poorly. But he didn’t want to, and he was stubborn. Weak.

Guilty silence filled the air between you. His words stung, and under normal circumstances when Frederick was being a dick, you would tell him where to shove it. But he wasn’t snapping at you over a tie he blamed you for losing. He was going through something unimaginable, and it wasn’t your place to get upset. So you threw the hurt into a little bag, and you closed the bag inside a box at the back of your mind. You were the one who spoke first, doing your best to sound cheerful.

“I thought you might be pleased to hear that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter stabbed Francis Dolarhyde—the man who called himself the Red Dragon—to death. He’s gone.”

His heart monitor anxiously beeped with humiliating candor, but he spoke with cold calmness. “Shall I throw a parade in their honor?”

“I just thought you’d want to know, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Mr. Graham and Hannibal?” he asked pointedly.

You rubbed your arm, turning your head away. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up… but he was bound to hear about it anyway. “The FBI isn’t sure. They never found their bodies.”

“Hannibal Lecter is free?” he wheezed and nearly choked.

Reaching out toward the hospital bed, you placed a hand on Chilton’s bandaged arm that was meant to be calming, but it made him jump in his skin. Deep breaths hissed between his teeth as he tried to get his heart rate under control. When he relaxed a little, you assured him, “If he’s alive, he won’t be coming back here. He was with Will. They’ll be running away together.”

He made a show of grumbling with contemplative hostility. “Killing me would only relieve my suffering; they will be pleased to leave me as I am. We have nothing to fear from them.” He was afraid anyway, but he did not need to admit that. Pathetic. Weak. “But the Tooth Fairy is dead?” he added bitterly, emphasizing the killer’s hated sobriquet.

“The medical examiner said it was slow and painful.”

That drew a satisfied little noise from beneath the bandages. The torn edges of his mouth were smirking.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #raúl esparza #burn recovery #hannibal #post-canon #my writing #grumpy freddy #can u blame him

61 notes · View notes

lideria · 4 years ago

Text

Wayfaring. | Winter.

➥ characters: genderneutral!reader, mark, johnny, jaehyun, yuta, taeyong, haechan; to be added

➥ genre: apocalyptic!au (apocalypse based on the game “the last of us”), very much angsty, kind of action-y, sad, sometimes fluff

➥ warnings: violent themes, blood&gore (detailed depictions), gun use, mentions of killing/m*rder, mentions of s*icide, depictions of corpses, swearing, zombies ofc, i would like to guess that that’s it but please contact me if there is anything i need to add, and as always English is not my first language so if there are any errors, please excuse me!

➥ word count: 19.3k

➥ summary: every little thing you had, had been built and preserved in the pool of nothingness. and now, you lost it all.

➥ author’s note: !!PLEASE READ!! hoping after all this time that i’ve not posted this doesn’t get taken off the tags. after much thinking i decided to make this big story a series, because i’m pretty positive the overall product will be over 60k words. this is the 1st part and there will be 3 parts. to make it a bit more meaningful, i’ll be releasing the winter part now (in winter for where i live), spring part in mid-spring (possibly around april), and summer in again, around mid-summer. the playlist will also be revealed then. i am hungry for feedback, any and all is much appreciated! also, i’m not over tlou still haha fu- there’s also going to be a taglist since the updates will be so slow, so please drop by my asks if you like it and i’ll gladly add you to the taglist!

➥ taglist: @nct-writers

i hope everyone enjoys this, have a great morning/day/evening/night!

The night was freezing cold.

You walk through the streets of a mix of stone and wooden buildings, lights mostly dim because of the scarce population. Most of the people were at the city square. They were laughing and dancing the night away as groups of people sang for them with the old, occupied instruments that belonged to who-knows-who all those years ago when all of this first started. ‘This’ as in survival of the fittest, as some would say. And from what science could explain, a fungal infection that took over the brain and body that eats away at your tissues until it has completely taken over your motor functions and skin, and can spread its spores to others freely. An infection that could basically ‘zombify’ and fungi-ify people.

That is what everybody who has experienced the outbreak day would tell you, at least.

Being born into it is apparently easier, that is what the older adults tell. Because people have it figured out, there are communities like the one you are in; nobody has to roam around alone and lose so many people in the process. You did not agree to that. Nothing was easier, except for maybe gathering the knowledge of handy survival skills.

Perhaps living in a community was easier, as well. You loved it. You specifically loved your community. The stone and wooden houses, the olden cafés and restaurants, actual electricity that was not a thing outside of the gates, fairy lights hanging across porches and roofs, kids and bicycles around, horses, elderly people. Schools. A whole cinema and market places. People who were hunters, people who were guards, people who were wanderers, people who were recruiters; people who had the luxury of just being parents or students or more. And people, perhaps after seeing the world fire up and fall apart, were filled with love towards each other. Compassion, respect; a lot of things that the outsiders did not have. For the most part, of course. Evil was still a thing even within the community.

You smile at the children hurrying towards the square with a few apples in their hands, laughing and skipping around with joy— one of them waving at you as they pass you by. You wave at them as well, chuckling at one of the boys’ claims on how he will make a run for the sugar in the cafeteria so they can caramelize them.

This is why you love it. Even though it is hard.

Just as snow starts to fall from the sky that was clear with visible stars just moments ago, you take your last turn and make your way to your destination. The light shines from their porch and emphasizes their house as you pick your pace up with your boots that are crunching the asphalt that is too old for its own good, cracked and overgrown with the unkempt vegetation.

And surely enough, he is there. You cannot see him clearly since his silhouette’s too dark with the light hitting from behind, but there is only one person who can be as tall in that household even when they are doubled over.

Not making eye-contact even once as you approach the house, you take big strides through their garden and get on the porch. He does not turn to you and opts to stay silent, still doubled over with his elbows placed on the somewhat high fence. You do the same and let out a huff; a laugh too airy and low to be considered one. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Johnny smiles, still not meeting your eyes. “I freaked out.”

“Over a kiss?” One more huff. “Sounds nothing like the Johnny I know.”

“Yeah,” He nibbles on his lip a little, and smiles at their neighbor whose kitchen window is just across their porch that is grabbing a glass of water in greetings. “I just don’t like the idea of kissing someone and having it not mean anything anymore. Feel like I’ve passed that stage.”

Your eyes lock on a star in particular when he turns his head to look at you. “Reasonable,” You let out nodding your head. A witty smile creeps up onto your face at that second, and you turn to look at him also. “I guess it comes with growing old.”

That makes him giggle and playfully punch you on the side of your shoulder, prompting you to let out an ow, motherfucker, because he is too strong for his own damn good and he seems to never realize that. “I’m not old.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You brush him off, massaging the side of your shoulder, the smile still on your face. “Tell me though, was the kiss good? It looked good.”

His brows furrow in unfiltered concern. “You watched me kiss?”

“Well if you just adhere onto someone’s lips like they glued you to each other in front of the bar I’m trying to get a drink from, Johnny, I’m kind of obligated to see it for like a second at the least.” He laughs at your ramble and breaks the furrow of his brows. As if he is defeated, he nods at the end a little. “It was amazing.”

“Oh so it’s like that,” You lean into him, hardly containing your giggle. “What does that mean?” He asks back with his own smile still on his face, clearly amused. Your eyebrows furrow this time albeit not seriously. “You damn well know what that means.”

Johnny sighs. Long and deep. Then, he speaks. “I love you, you know. You’re the best annoyer I never would’ve asked for.”

At that you chuckle, letting your shoulders shake with the force of it. “Good thing they didn’t ask you then.”

He does not say anything after that for a while. The two of you stand in silence, you looking at the stars and him looking at the street— or maybe the overgrown plants, you do not know. He fiddles with his calloused hands slightly, and it is only then that you realize that the house is much quieter than how it usually is. His parents must still be at the square, even though you have not seen them at all that day.

That night, to be more honest. During the day it was not really like you could see a lot of the folk.

Johnny must have somehow read your mind, because he speaks up again with only a heavy huff. “I heard about this morning,” His gaze is directed at you again. You break your smile and lean further, letting your head drop lower to the fence as you sigh yourself. One of your hands instinctively go to your face and to the spot where everything aches right on your cheekbone, tracing over the few burn scratches you got when you fell onto the ground. “It was nothing.”

“That wouldn’t have been believable even if I hadn’t known you.” He stands upright then. You see his hands come into your vision before they pick your arms off the fence and force you to straighten up as well. He inspects your face for a bit, tracing your red spots and scratches with his fingertips, and frowns. “Sometimes I think you’re a bit too careless.” Johnny mumbles just above a whisper, making you smile. Not particularly with happiness or being flattered, but something rooted more from embarrassment. “You say that a lot.”

“Yeah, because I want you to come home in one piece.” He takes his hands off of your face. “So you can finally get it on with Jaehyun.”

He immediately receives a shove to his chest and full on laughs at that, watching your pissed off face that is rather scary for anybody else. After years of knowing you ever since you first walked into this place only with another survivor, coming from a smaller settlement that went to absolute chaos, Johnny could not ever fear you. Fear you in a respectful sense, yes, absolutely. Because he has seen what you are capable of doing outside to survive. And in actuality, it is not the capability that made him fear you in that respectful sense; it is that he has seen you melt into the nature of it all, sometimes losing yourself in the things that surround you and the things you are feeling. Johnny has always differentiated himself from everything, so seeing that was what made him fear you.

The very same things made people fear you, as well. A lot of people stayed away from you, which always made him feel bad. He found it extremely admirable that as a teenager you were able to look for a settlement without any guardians and with only a companion, even though your earlier settlement was not too far from the city. At the same time, he could not fear you knowing how you can get with people when you care about them. He had learnt about it all first-hand when he was the first to approach you at the grey and distressing identification center after you arrived, after his parents encouraged him to ask you over for dinner, after visiting you many times at the lonely dorms and helping you fall asleep by tiring you out with his jokes and conversations, after helping you move into your own place when you were old enough, after going on patrols with you and much, much more.

“You’re disgusting, does anybody ever tell you that?” Your annoyed voice almost echoes to his ears after the many shouted singings and overall shouts he had heard that night. “The word you’re looking for would be ‘teasing’ and I just know it’s on the way. That relationship is long overdue.”

“Hey!” A familiar voice interrupts your bickering, and when you turn to the direction it is coming from, you see Yuta just behind the fence. He climbs up a bit and hangs off the railing, not fully climbing onto the porch. “Hey, man. Why don’t you just come to the porch?”

Yuta holds a hand up and waves it around, and both you and Johnny fear that he will fall down with only one hand on the fence helping him sling over, so you both take a step towards him in a hurry. But he does not fall and places his hand back. “I’ll just go home. I’m very cold and kinda drunk.”

Johnny mumbles a we can see that under his breath, but he cannot say it louder because Yuta points a finger at you, prompting you to take another step. “You are patrolling with me tomorrow.”

You finally get a hold of his arm and Johnny takes care of the other one, so now his feet are planted to the ledge of the porch and you two are basically holding a whole grown man up on his feet. That does not hold you back from complaining, though. “What, why? I was out just today.”

The drunken man shrugs. “Don’t know why you, but I think I saw Jaehyun sign your name up with us.”

A closed-mouthed snicker comes from Johnny at Yuta’s words and you snap your head at him, looking into his eyes, warning him not to do the very thing he is doing right now and to shut up about it afterwards. “Fine, I’ll come with you tomorrow.”

“You didn’t exactly have a choice.”

The knock on your door wakes you up the next morning.

Groggy a little from drinking the night before, and from the soreness of your face, you are not the happiest when you open the door up to greet Yuta and Jaehyun. They are standing on the thick snow that has covered the ground overnight, all equipped up and ready to go. The two of them look noticeably more content as well whereas you are just there basically ready to beg them to let you sleep some more. Actually, ready to beg them to leave you alone altogether.

You could really use a day off after falling face-first to the concrete yesterday. It has been long since you have had a day off anyway. Lately it was either you were going out on a patrol or sweep, or you were training the new recruits and the volunteers. You kind of did not remember the concept of sleeping in at this point.

“I would say good morning, but your morning looks far from any of that.” Yuta says in an annoyingly bright tone, and then he points at your face. “Your face didn’t swell up. I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s magical.”

Your fingers reach up to your sore cheekbone once again. Yuta is all true, there is no swelling up although it hurts so bad still as if you had not cleaned it up, when you did. Multiple times. “Just come in. I’ll wash up and grab my coat.”

They walk in when you hold the door open for them and scoot to the side, and make their way to your couch, plopping down on it without any care. You make your way to the bathroom in silence and quickly wash your mouth and face, only bothering to change your clothes because you see a change hanging over the shower cabin. After doing so you hurry over to your wardrobe in your room and grab your coat along with your gear, and make your way to the pair of boots you had been wearing for quite long. You ask your question while you are struggling with putting them on. “Why are we going out anyway? I thought every spot was clear.”

“Someone said that the crops are dead already outside the walls,” Jaehyun answers. “Means the winter’s coming faster and harder. And that means herds may come in faster. Taeyong just wants to make sure nothing’s out of control.” Which does make sense that him and the council would decide on something like that, especially after the chaos that was a couple of years ago. Uncontrollable increase in infected meant uncontrollable increase in herds moving around, and that meant uncontrollable fullness of areas, which meant hunting for supplies were almost halted, which meant there was a serious shortage in supplies. “Plus, we’re running low on medicine. So if we find any on the way,”

“Yeah, okay.” You nod as you let your foot fall after tying the last knot. “Is it only us three?”

“No,” Yuta jumps at the question, almost. “Donghyuck’s coming as well. Said he needs to let off some steam.”

“Why?” You chuckle. He looked dandy fine last night at the square, warming himself up by the fire and chatting and laughing with people. “I heard they fought with Mark.” Jaehyun, once again, answers.

“Again?” Grunting as you wear your coat, you zip it up before opening the door and holding it out once more. The boys stand up and walk towards the door. “Why can’t they keep their stuff to themselves?” You laugh, dearly hoping this fight is not another one feisty enough to keep them from talking to each other for months.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jaehyun mumbles, and waits for you to close your door before starting to walk with you. You smile at the close proximity he keeps with you as you two walk behind Yuta, following him to the stables near the big metal gates through the lively streets.

Donghyuck is already waiting for you when you arrive. He complains about his horse being taken by someone else first thing when he spots your group, prompting the stable staff to laugh behind him, presumably at the fact that he is not complaining that he will be going out for a patrol in the freezing cold, no, but that he is complaining about ‘his’ horse that is technically not his being taken away. He does not really bother to greet you as well. It is a common theme with him, so you do not take offense.

Once you are handed your horses over to you, you make your way to the gates, holding them from their reins— just in case if they ever get freaked out from the sounds the gates decide to make.

You spot a familiar face at the gate. Walking over to him is basically an instinct. “Hey,”

“Hi.” Mark smiles at you, and pets your horse on the nose a little.

Mark is important to you.

He is the person that has accompanied you on your way here after your last settlement got raided by a large group of people that belonged to a community called Nox— the largest community ever established after everything went wrong with the world, and the most developed, as well. Their recruiting process was very disciplined, they had spread all over the country in years and mostly aimed specifically for the big cities, which allowed them to have plenty of resources and people with ‘greater’ professions (like doctors, scientists, military officials, agents, anything that was deemed to be handy in an apocalypse) in their communities.

That had been what happened. It was supposed to be a recruitment, but once people denied to be a part of them and stood up for themselves, they did not like that. At least the branch that they had sent out did not like that.

Your settlement was up in flames by the time you and Mark made it out of there. The night had brightened up as if it was the morning.

Then, it was a month full of almost-dying. The two of you had been out of your settlement before, but not for long periods where you also had to look for some place that would take you. Infected wanted to get you, and if they did not, it was the people. Sometimes they would take you in for a short while, letting you use their resources before changing their paths and letting you go with a bit of a help; maybe weaponry, maybe food, maybe medicine.

Mark and you would have to find hiding spots and places to sleep, and a lot of the times you would just make do with sleeping under a vehicle in the cold in unpopulated areas. Although hard to believe, those spots were one of the least visible and most secure.

The two of you had saved each other perhaps countless times from dying. You were not friends before you ran away from your settlement. You did not exactly know a lot about each other beforehand, only acquainted as a familiar face you would see on the street. Yet when you ended up together, you cared about each other so unexpectedly much.

After you came to the city, though, it had changed a lot. They put you on schedules and dorms and houses that mostly did not go with each other, so the communication had broken— except for slight communication through Johnny who was your middle ground with his role of being a mutual friend. The sheer care you had for each other had stayed the same, though. It would have been difficult to let go of that.

“What happened to your face?” Mark asks and instinctively reaches out for it, making you hiss when his fingers come into contact with the sore red spot. He immediately retracts. “I fell.”

His brows furrow as if he is not believing it, so you laugh to calm him down. “No, I really fell. Planted face first onto the concrete.” That makes him chuckle, but his brows are still furrowed. “Of course you’d do that.”

Mark takes a deep breath. “You have everything you need?”

Someone shouts from behind, one of the watches. “Herd patrol, open the gates!”

“Yeah, I do.” You answer him, and he smiles a bit more reassuringly. “Be safe out there. Let me see you from the gate when you come back.”

There is the screeching sound that the gates do whenever they open that would surely attract some infected if there were any of them around, so you could only hope there were not. Your hold on the rein gets tighter when your horse gets a bit agitated from it. “I’m coming back and you know it, Mark.” Smirking, you step on the foot hold and mount onto the saddle.

He says only one thing before he lets you go. “I do.”

Outside the gates could have been just as pretty as it always was if it was not for the thick snow that coated everywhere and made it hard to travel.

Underneath the thick cover of snow would be overgrown grass and wild plants and flowers that definitely were made to not be natives of the land before any of this had happened, but were now claiming their home to themselves and growing freely without any control. You did not know what most of the plants or flowers even were, even though they had taught you back in school— but you knew you would never be a farmer or a wanderer. You knew you would never have to rely on that knowledge so giving up on it was pretty much an instant thing.

Above the snow, though, were pines and willows thriving in the humid cold. Corkscrew willows, narrow leaf willows and glaucous willows were painting the very much white and grey scenery some lighter shades of green and pink, glistening with the snow sitting on them when the silver but blinding sunlight hit their surface.

You were pretty much on watch the whole time as the possibility of a herd passing through occupied your mind. There were the occasional wildlife passing through the valley, mostly rabbits, dogs and squirrels, and the occasional deer. They run around, sometimes passing under the horses or too close to them and scaring them a bit off. It was nothing that you could not take care of though.

Through a mutual agreement, you go to the town first since it is a good distance away from the city still and is one of the places that is sure to have any signs of a herd if they are coming in. That was because there were not a lot of traces of the infection since there is no people that still live in that town, and the infected would just roam through to potentially find a host.

Some of them would just die on their own from the cold and spew out spores in hopes of reaching something. They usually did not.

When you are in the Western-looking, red and brown brick-borne town, you divide the sections and go your separate ways. You probably would not have done that had the entrance of the town been crowded, but it had not been anything close to that. Yuta insists on his advice for all of you to do everything as quietly as you can just in case, and you all seem to agree on that, considering this is only a patrol and not a sweep and you do not have that much ammo.

The South of the town was mostly empty to your delight. Definitely more crowded than how it usually was this time of the year, but nothing you could not take care of. You did not even have to waste too much of your ammo taking out the infected that were already there— ones mostly freshly infected. Runners, who could still see you and who could still run and who still looked like humans except for their blood covered mouth and hands. They looked alive. They grunted, they made humanly noises, they twitched in their place. It almost looked like whoever they used to be was still inside them and was trying to fight that damn thing off.

It made your blood go cold at the thought every single time.

Once you are done with the infected you could see so far by the help of your trusted stealth skills and dagger and only some of your ammo, you check on a couple of buildings that were on your list that had not been explored yet. But after being open for anybody to come and loot year after year, there was not much that you could find. Some rubbing alcohol hiding away in a stash of unusable supplies, some canned food that were very suspiciously still not out of date, and a few more things. Nothing too useful.

Within a bit over a couple of hours at the least, you make it back to your meeting point at the main street of the entrance, the supplies stacked behind your horse and on the board she was equipped with that would help her in being able to drag everything comfortably. To your relief, everyone is already there, and there are no infected in sight. “Anything useful?” Jaehyun asks, and you shake your head.

“I could get some rubbing alcohol and some gas for the generators, but that’s about it.” Yuta nods at your words. “Same here— except I found this stash of ammo and some meds, but I didn’t take any of it.”

Donghyuck glares at him with an obviously visible amount of anger in his eyes, which makes Yuta further explain himself. “I don’t want to mess with them if they’re a trespasser. I’ll give it a week, and if it’s still there then, I’m just gonna dive in because the prick had some good stuff in there.” He sighs. “I also left a note, saying you’re kind of fucked, friend, because the herd’s coming. Told them to head down to the river following the valley and that the place with working lights and big metal gates would welcome them if they’re smart about it.”

Sometimes Yuta could be extremely innocent, wanting to believe everyone is good, but he had something about him where most of these people he left notes for would actually turn out to be decent people that would join your community. So you could only hope whoever this was would be the same. “That is so sweet of you, but I think some of the herd is already here.” Donghyuck says, and all of you turn your heads to him. “You know the hotel half of it’s said farewell? It was flooded with infected. Of all kinds.”

“Sounds like a fucking dream.” Jaehyun murmurs, kicking around the snow a bit with his boots, looking down. You lay a supportive hand on his forearm. “Sweepers will be lucky though. Some of them are loaded with stuff— backpacks on and everything.”

But his words still hold a heavy weight to them, because these poor souls just did not survive for as long as they planned for. And it makes you wonder, wonder if they were alone or in a group, moving or not moving, had a family or not, had friends or not; what was their original plan? Did they even have a plan, or did everything just happen when they were hidden away in somewhere?

“I found a safe, like a whole dark room,” Jaehyun says. “Inside an apartment. I guess they were a pharmacist or a doctor or something— there are a lot of bottles and boxes of medicine and compounds. And I hardly think they belong to anyone at this point because the door lock was literally rotting away.”

“You think it’s okay to take?” Donghyuck asks Yuta, who nods promptly. “Let’s not take all of it just yet, though. Leave it for the next patrol or the sweepers, they can get the remainder later.”

And then he clears his throat. “Why don’t you two go ahead?”

You two. Jaehyun and you.

Before you know it, you are already sent that way and are trotting your way down to the apartment with your horses. The apartment is definitely not close to the meeting point, especially had you been on foot, but with trotting your way down it was much easier to access. You see the infected Jaehyun has taken down, and again, most of them were Runners; the only explanation you could come up with was that the actual herd had had a feast in another settlement or an area ridden with survivor groups, and since they are Runners they can move faster which is why they are already here with the cold. Basically that they are the herd before the herd.

You dismount when you arrive at the brick and brown, dirty looking building and follow Jaehyun up the stairs that by some miracle do not just collapse, watching him easily open up the doors after having broken into them.

Like he said, the room is there, mostly dark but only lit when its door is open and light spills in through the shutters, and it really is packed with medical supplies.

“I randomly inspected some of them, most of it’s not out of date yet.” You nod at him when he looks at you. “Okay.”

But something genuinely pisses you off. It has been pissing you off for some time, so the only thing you can do is confront him when you are alone. “Jaehyun,”

“Yeah?” He kneels onto the floor and starts inspecting things again, placing some of them into the bag he had grabbed from the side of the saddle before you made your way in. You kneel in front of him and sigh, looking down at his hands and spotting the slightly scarred knuckles. Probably from subconsciously pushing on doors while breaking in. “I know it was weird a few nights ago because everyone was around, but it’s weirder right now because you have a thing where you go awkward and quiet when you feel that way,” His eyes bore into yours. “And I really can’t stand that,” You let out an airy chuckle, and he kind of smiles as well. “So either kiss me like you mean it next time or never do and let us stay as friends.”

It was supposed to be a basic thing.

Jaehyun had kissed you a few nights ago at a movie screening. He had asked you to watch the old sci-fi movie with him, and had waited for you in front of the cinema, stuck between the crowds of people of all ages. Throughout the movie you had just whisper-chatted back and forth, almost none of your attention on any of the scenes even when they got louder. The topics of your chats had been lighthearted and fun as well, gossiping a bit about your friends and telling each other about funny encounters you recently had with people around the city or outside. Sometimes the chats were about the movie, with questions of what would you do if you were living in that universe instead of this one, which one would you prefer and more, debating on the questionable answers; throwing your dried and seasoned corn at each other if either of you thought the other had absolutely ran out of any sanity.

After the screening he had just asked you if he could kiss you as if it was the most normal thing he could ask, saying he could not wait any more, and you had let him because the mutual attraction had been there for too long and you wanted him to kiss you just as much as you had been wanting to kiss him.

But he had gotten shy about it— crowds were never Jaehyun’s thing, and that was fine. The thing that was not fine was how he acted around you for days after that, quiet and somewhat cold and awkward, when you were okay with it all and had expected him to make a move last night at the square.

He breathes out a laugh through his nose and looks down, playing with his hangnails and the traces of the rein that is left on his fingers, not deep but definitely visible still and a bit pink around the outlines. He smiles under his nose, you can see it because the lines of light that hits his face illuminate the side of his lips that is curled up, and when he picks his head up and the lines hit his brown eyes, you are smiling too.

Because Jaehyun places his hand at the back of your neck and kisses you.

Firmly, with care, and like nobody else is there— there is nobody there, but this time it feels like even if there were people he would have been fine with it. He lets you place your hands on the spots between his chest and shoulders, and lets you pull him further down with ease, spreading his other hand that is holding you on your back to give you better support. He opens his mouth first for you, maybe to show he is meaning this and he means so much more, and you give into it. That goes on for a while with hands roaming wherever they can. You only come back to your senses when his teeth scratch your bottom lip.

He stops when your hands push against him lightly. “Any longer and Yuta will never let this die down.”

Nibbling on his lip with his teeth, Jaehyun huffs a smile and nods. “He really won’t.” And he leans in again, only pecking you this time.

Johnny and his predictions that gave you the bravery and encouragement to do these kinds of things could go fall face first onto the concrete.

The rest of the patrol and getting back to the city go almost seamless, except for the fact that you had to pass by a couple of groups of infected— some Runners who had spotted you and alerted the Clickers (one of the older stages of infected where the infection has taken over most of their skin and has made its way out, taking over their eyes and using echolocation with the clicking sounds that comes from their throats) with the sound they made. They caused a bit of a hassle, but nothing you could not take care of; not with Jaehyun’s quick bow skills as you galloped through the occupied areas of the valley and all of your leftover ammo. “You’re losing a lot of arrows, don’t you think?” Donghyuck asks Jaehyun, shouting a bit out of breath since the galloping motion is taking a toll on him.

Jaehyun pulls the reins to himself harshly. “Yeah,” His horse halts without any discomfort, and you see him from the corner of your eye before he is left behind. “I’ll meet you at the gate!”

And he starts galloping to the opposite way.

If it was anybody else, any and most probably all of you would have started screaming some sense into him. But it was Jaehyun. Whose way of doing things outside, although stealthy, was very impulsive. So you do not take your gaze away from the road ahead of you, locking your eyes on the city just now visible as you make your way down.

It is already dusk by the time you are at the gates and the watches see you, asking where the hell Jaehyun is and offering to open the gates when Yuta tells them he is collecting his arrows back from a small area, so he should be back any minute. All of you agree that you do not want the gates to open before he comes so the noise does not attract anything more than it needs to.

Just as you expect, the missing person of your quad comes sooner than later. A proud smile is on his face as he goes on about being able to get back five of the seven arrows he had used, waiting for all of you to make your ways in before walking in himself.

“We have some gas and some meds,” You tell the watch who is there the second you walk in, to unleash the supplies behind your horse. “With plenty of infected on the side.” Donghyuck adds, too upbeat for the news he is delivering. One of the gatekeepers is quite mortified to hear that which is why he feels inclined to add more to his words. “Not a dooming amount, but we definitely need a few sweeps. It’d be worse if the herd caught up to them.”

“Why don’t you just go tell that to Taeyong?” Mark cuts in, and you can immediately tell how irritated Donghyuck gets. His face gets red, his eyes drop and squint, and he completely forgets about getting off his horse which all of you do at that point. “Oh would you look at that,”

Mark tries to hold a snicker in, you can tell, because his lips curl inwards. “It’s almost as if that’s not exactly what I was about to do. Fucking asshole.”

Mark finally gives in then, letting his shoulders shake when he greets you, giggling. He tries to check if you have any bites since it is a procedure he needs to do, but he cannot do it effectively with how much he is giggling— which was fine, because he could very clearly see you did not have any bites. None of your clothes were torn, and your face, hands and neck that was not covered up was just very visibly in quite okay condition.

“I’m having dinner at Johnny’s tonight,” You tell Mark as he lets go of your hands, making him pick his head up. “Just saying.”

“I’ll see if I can pay a visit.”

You smile at him and make your way over to Jaehyun, letting him put an arm around your shoulders and walk away with you, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

He does pay a visit.

The night is pierced through with Mark’s laughter when Johnny’s mouth drops open. He stops mindlessly strumming his guitar when it takes over him. “Dude, I’m telling you,” He says between his laughs. “They didn’t even look at each other when they were leaving, and somehow they were all lovey-dovey by the time they got back.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny nudges you rather hard in your side, and this time you are snickering along with Mark just at the sight of his face. “You called me creepy when I knew all along.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Johnny. I apologize for not crediting you enough on your talent of predicting relationships.” Your smile dies down a little after that, and your voice goes a bit quieter with the confusion. “Well I don’t know if it’s a relationship yet. It just happened, sort of.”

Johnny shrugs at that and puts his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him on the couch with one of your legs dangling over and one of them propped up. “That’s fine. You guys can let it brew for a bit more. Just test the waters.” A breath of a chuckle makes its way out of your nose at his words and how the high you had felt a few hours ago had crashed down into this weird oblivion, but Mark nods in agreement.

You do not see it, but Johnny smiles down at you while you fix your eyes on the photographs on his wall. Some of his, some of his parents’, some of his newborn days— the final days just before the infection started taking all over the country and the world. There are a few with you and Mark, too, a couple of them looking downright awkward with Mark and you too numb to the friendship he was offering you after coming to the brink of death maybe tens or maybe hundreds of times, and another couple of them where the photos are just blurry with how much you were laughing and it made steadying his parents’ old camera harder.

He turns his head to the opposite side, facing Mark. “You got any sick raps, Mark?”

“What is that question?” Mark howls out, laughing his chest off like he always does. “When you say it like that I don’t wanna rap ever again.”

But he does, because Mark is like that.

Johnny and you do your best in hyping him up, shouting and howling and springing in your place to the beat of his lyrics. You two let him rap until he really does not feel like it anymore, and you listen to him when he goes back to strumming his guitar, softly singing some things every now and then. So quietly that you almost do not even hear it.

The night goes on like that. You just lounge around, Johnny between you and Mark, cozy and warm.

If there was anything about them two, it was that they made you feel normal somehow. Which is maybe why you cherished them so much, and what the three of you have.

Unfortunately, you wake up early once again in your own room in the morning even though you do not have any reason to.

There are some upsides to that when you have the day off, as much as you hate it. You get to take a shower with all cold, yet much appreciated water, and properly change your clothes into new ones after a long while, to make a breakfast with what you have stored away in your cupboards, and maybe even do laundry if you had any leftover homemade soap.

Sometimes you paid a visit to the dorms, checking up on lonely recruits if there were any that you had grown some kind of attachment to.

That morning you do all of that, too. You get your hair and body feeling and looking all clean, eat somewhat of a nutritious breakfast that is much better when compared with just going with an all empty stomach, change into some of your newest clothes that Johnny and Jaehyun had gifted you once after an outing for hoarding. Except while you are making your way to the dorms just to check on the newest recruits, you stumble upon a group of people lining in front of the entrance to the stables.

Your interest peaks when you spot Johnny, who is writing his name down on the board at the gates that open to the place. You hurry over to him as best you can in your still sleepy state. “Morning,”

He hears you but does not bother to turn his head to look at you, knowing you would come to stand next to him. “Hey.”

As expected, you halt when you are there. You look at his name on the board and his signature along with the date, and you know for a fact he is going out. “Sweep?”

“Yeah,” He lends the pen to the person next to him, and moves out of the line, prompting you to move away with him. “Signing up last minute. Taeyong and Yuta can’t make it out today, so.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows, and he shrugs a little. “Yuta’s needed at the training grounds today, and who knows what Taeyong has to take care of.”

He watches you as you sigh, truly tired of it, but the inner conflict is louder than any type of exhaustion you could possibly have. “Well I’m coming with you.”

When you try to walk into the line he steps in front of you, and puts a stop to whatever madness you are planning. His hands physically stop you as well as he places them on your shoulders. “No you aren’t,” Johnny’s voice is firm, and his brows are furrowed just slightly. “You need a day off. Your whole face looks purple with the cold, the lack of sleep, and the scar— and you look awful.”

He smiles then as if he had not just dragged the way you look all over the floor. “Just go and relax. Maybe spend some time with Jae, hm?”

You bite down on the insides of your lips and nibble on them, and furrow your eyebrows at the squeeze of your heart. “Just do me a favor and be careful. There are a lot of Runners around,” One of your hands come up half-bothered to point at the people in the line. “Tell that to the group as well.”

There is a silence that lasts a couple of seconds, but then Johnny pulls you in for a hug. “You know,” He mumbles. “If you actually talked to more people they’d like you better.” He knew what you would say, that you do not like the stares that people throw at you anywhere and everywhere, and that it stops you from approaching them. So, he stops that from happening before it can. “I’ll take your horse if that will make you feel any better.”

Stepping away from him, you smile and shove him a little. “Take my horse if it will make you feel any more secure, and send her back if your ass can’t make it.”

“Will do.”

Dusk comes, and the sun sets.

Some people do not return that evening, and Johnny is one of them.

Supposedly, his whole group is missing— which is a good thing, because it is not completely uncommon that people camp in some sort of a hide-out if the infected in the area are too much for them to handle with the amount of people they have and they think it is better to wait it out.

Which is why, although bitter, there is hope inside of you.

His parents are distressed when Taeyong comes to tell them the news, and they remain just as distressed afterwards if not more. Whenever you see them, you cannot help but notice how their faces are overborne with concern. Their brows are always furrowed, their mouths are always pointed downwards in a frown, their eyes always glazed over with what looked like thousands of thoughts racing all around, and the wrinkles on their faces are deepened in some areas with the weight and tension.

You grow distressed and restless as well, as hours— days pass. The concept of night and day loses its significance because you are too distracted during the day when you are supposed to be training the recruits, and too uncomfortable during the night rolling all over the bed without a drop of sleep in your eyes.

And it must be not only you that is feeling that way, because Taeyong knocks on your door in the dead of the night a few days after Johnny’s disappearance. When you open the door his arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks a lot paler than he usually is, his eyes red all around.

He gets straight to the point. “You, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark. I want you to search for them while another group goes for a sweep.” His voice breaks at some point because of how tired he must be feeling and how scared. You nod slightly, the tension pulling and burdening your face. “Okay.”

After your mumbled, quick and short answer Taeyong turns right back on his heel and walks down the stairs of the porch. You cannot bring yourself to close the door just yet when you see him, a friend of a friend but a figure as protective and wise, walk away with his guards clearly down. “You should try and get some sleep,” You advise after him, even though you yourself are suffering from the same problem he is. “What you do matters.”

Taeyong does not slow down, and is out of your sight within seconds after he leaves your backyard.

Next morning, it is as if you had done a mutual agreement between the four of you, because you are all by the stables with the slightest hue of sunlight.

No one is smiling or looking content in any way or shape, but no one is agitated, either. The most healthy thing at that moment is to force yourselves to go numb altogether and you all know it.

With so much as some collective huffs you write your names down on the board and sign in the hand-drawn boxes next to them, being able to see all of the missing people’s names that were out just before you— it was never a pretty situation. The stables are kind of empty from all the horses that are missing as well and it feels weird to not be able to go out with the horse, your horse that you had considered a companion for years on end.

But Anubis, the black horse assigned to you that day, was a good compensation. He was surprisingly comfortable with you from the get-go.

The stable you were in got too empty after all of the search and sweep groups took their horses with only a couple of them left behind, and before you knew it, you were on them and stationed in front of the gate. Handwritten documents were in Yuta’s hands mapping out yesterday’s group’s sweeping locations.

And as he said just before you all mounted on your horses, no one would be parting ways that day.

When the gates open, you immediately start galloping behind the sweepers— they collectively had more ammo than your group, and they were going in the same direction for a while, so they could be some sort of a shield for you if the groups had somehow started moving much faster all of a sudden. Your group would be heading to the settlement just a bit further away from the town you had gone through yesterday; most probably what used to be its business district if any of your predictions were true. The sweepers would be going to the town, figuring the groups that were saturated behind the town must be at its downtown now.

The way up the valley is rather empty, which is almost more unsettling when you think of how many people are missing.

Six, to be exact, counting Johnny.

You try to focus on different things, like how your backside hurts as you gallop upwards and Anubis pants under you. On the fact that he is a rather strong horse and you had never noticed that when anybody else was riding him. How he is maybe the most elevated horse you have ever had, and how his back is very uncomfortable to ride on even with a saddle. How he is very enduring considering he does not slow down in the slightest even after the valley starts getting a little rough, not falling behind any horses and even passing some of them if it was not for you that took him back under control.

It helps you, focusing on him, because you do not want to focus on things that might get your guard down.

The sweepers part their way with you at the point they need to, making a turn for the northeast once you enter the town, letting you pass straight through. Without any goodbyes because you have officially entered the danger zone.

And you truly have, because there are Runners around with not as many Clickers roaming through in the visible distance where the sweepers are headed. You can only internally wish them good luck.

It takes less than an hour to get to the probable business district that is filled with concrete and glass covered buildings unlike the town, overtaken by vegetation (and snow) that has washed over its blues and greys and beiges and the financial personality it once had— again unlike its brown and red brick counterpart.

All of you make your horses come to a halt once you enter the environment, again, just to make sure there is as little noise as possible. Dismounting from them and taking the reins in your hands is an instinct. “Where do we go first?”

Yuta looks down at the papers with Mark’s question. His fingers trace over the words until they find what they are looking for. “Well,” He huffs, placing a hand on his nape with a wince. “They were going to the law firm, the bank in southwest, the city hall and they would meet at the conference hall. They must be around these areas if we’re lucky.”

“And if they’re lucky.” Jaehyun says under his breath, but you hear him loud and clear. And you have a feeling that everybody does.

Yuta drops his hand that is holding the papers and sighs. “The bank’s the farthest one, let’s go.”

They are not at the bank.

Not in the bank, not around the bank, not in the subway station under the bank where there is a hide-out in one of the conductor rooms, not inside the surrounding business buildings all of which have of their doors opened whether it is one of the back/staff doors or the front entrances as if it is an all-you-can-get open buffet of places to roam around for the infected. When in actuality, your people’s strategy is to close the doors and lightly barricade them after coming into any contact, trying to keep as many infected on the roads so it is somewhat easier to wipe them out by narrowing their moving space. It also helped indicating whether there had been any recent trespassers at all, because most people not acquainted with your settlement would not bother with closing the doors behind them as they lost themselves in all the possible places to hoard.

And it all just means that there must have been trespassers recently, making the infected harder to find since they were free to go into the buildings, which must have messed up with the sweeping.

It does not feel right at all.

The law firm which is a rather small building is of no help as well. No alive, normal human is inside, not in any of the five floors that you have to clear out a little or around, and once again the doors are open. All you can find are supplies lying around the fifth floor that are definitely from the city’s storage so you know that they must have stayed for some time there at some point. You take them back. But there is nothing more.

To be truthful about things, none of you had your hopes up about the city hall. It was an extremely open space and was most definitely not the safest in this situation, nor the most resourceful place to hide or camp in anytime— or to hoard things with nothing but once-fancy tiles all over the interior and no leftover supplies from passing groups. However, they would have gone there to check if there was anybody hiding away, because people (especially in groups) who passed through did that since it is a quite distinctive and low building in between all of the higher buildings for those unfamiliar with the area. They would have brought them back to the city if any of them were there. So it does not surprise you when you find the city hall empty as well, except for the sea of infected that swarm the grand entrance to the hall that make your eyes widen and immediately shut the door close when you first open it up. Plus holding onto dear life pushing against the doors with Jaehyun when some of them are attracted to the noise and make a run for it.

Sweep season was the worst season.

Through a mutual agreement, you barricade the doors a little (a lot) tighter with fire truck hoses that have long been detached from the abandoned truck between the hall and one of the high-rise buildings that most probably was sitting there since the outbreak day, where fire trucks were not only used for the countless fires that started especially in the traffic, but also to rescue people stuck in upper floors of buildings that were taken over by the Runners.

There is no way the infected trapped in the hall can open the doors through layers upon layers of a thick hose wrapped and tied around the handles of the entrance, at least you all would like to believe that.

When your heart rate picks up is when you spot a building with its visible doors closed on the way to the conference hall. “Wait.”

Everyone stops, prompting their horses to do the same as them. The guys look at the direction of your gaze, and they all seem to come to a realization. “Do you think-?”

“I think there’s no reason we shouldn’t.” But Yuta does not look too keen on it, so you have to agree further. “There’s something obvious here, and I think it’s an objective point when I say that.”

He nods at that and clears his throat, looking up at the building for a split second. “Is it okay if you search with Mark? Jaehyun and I’ll be here, I kind of need a second thought as I plan out the mapping for if they aren’t here or at the conference hall.”

“That’s fine.” You assure him, and nod your head at Mark. “Let’s go.”

Inside the building is eerily quiet, but brightly lit with the afternoon sun shining through all the glass. You have never been in this building before, at least you do not think so, because the lobby does not ring the slightest bell to you.

There are bodies of infected that are taken out lying all around. They paint the light creme flooring red with their blood, but it is comforting. Because it is for certain that they have been here, at least.

A fire exit door is all that you are looking for, or a staff room that could possibly lead to the stairway, but it takes a bit of an embarrassingly long time for you two to spot anything in the seemingly open-spaced, bright lobby. You come to learn a bit after starting to walk around that the entry to the stairway beside the elevators just outside of the oval lobby is also blocked with something on the other side.

“There’s a crack in the elevator doors,” Mark suggests, and although ladders are the one thing you hate the most, you agree to take them to the upper floors.

It is so dark and humid inside with years upon years of unventilated air, the smell of rust and rot is absolutely disgusting, and you fear that the years-old ladders will break any second with both you and Mark’s weight on them. Not to mention how tiring climbing up a ladder can be for your arms and legs when you hold onto the thin and flimsy metal waiting for the other to separate one of the elevator doors, most of which are rightfully blocked.

On one of the far upper floors, though, there is no blockage, and you can swing yourselves onto the hallway. Which is scary to be honest, especially when you are all this way up and if you miss anything your way down will be met with an old, hard, rusting top of an elevator on your back.

But god bless the planners (maybe their souls) of this place, because the ladder is close to the opening enough that you can swing onto the floor without too much hassle. Neither of you slip after jumping down onto it.

“Do you think,” Mark dusts himself off as if it would help with anything, takes a deep breath in his tired lungs, and rephrases his words. “Do you think they came all the way up here through that?”

“Maybe they blocked the stairway and the doors,” You suggest instead, and it sounds a lot more like the option the two of you would like to believe in. “Right half yours left half mine?”

“Sure.” He answers, and the two of you go your separate ways on the big office floor.

A few doors open to the empty, messy office rooms and you check through the drawers for anything worthy to take back with you even though there is not much of it. One of them provides you with some scissors and lighter liquid, which end up being the most usable things you get out of them. Some doors do not even budge with whatever is blocking your way.

But there is a room at the visible end of the hall where the door will budge, but will not open.

You resort to using your shoulders to break into the room rather quickly. There is not any particularly loud sound coming from behind the thick, polished wooden door, and something about it being left secure but still accessible made you think there must be something behind that door that is useful. Maybe a stash of actually usable supplies or much preferably, anything that leads you to your missing people.

The door opens with your fifth push, and you hear the sound of a broken lock clink on the ground.

You also hear the shriek of a Runner who jumps you immediately after being attracted to the sound.

With the force of your push you have basically thrown yourself into the arms of the Runner which is never a good thing or in any way close to an ideal situation, and you have to duck away by kneeling lower and throwing yourself to the sharp opposite side of where the infected is facing to make sure it does not grab your arms. You take a few steps away but it is just as fast as you are, so you have to use your quick wit and draw out your gun in the blink of your eyes, shooting it in the head— impractically unable to care whether there were any infected on Mark’s side or not because it was either you or whoever they were with the shock and the pace of things.

The mess of a creature falls down with a slump, your heart absolutely racing but also dropping— because as you look down at it you can see that you know who she used to be. You were not friends or even really acquaintances, but you know for a fact that she lives in the city. So you turn back around to the open-planned office with your fast approaching panic and adrenaline.

Which is when you see it.

Johnny, slumped onto the floor, sitting with his legs spread out. Johnny, whose ankle looks broken. Johnny, who has his gun in his hand.

Johnny, who has a bite mark on his exposed right arm where orange-salmon colored fungi is growing out, extending upwards to his shoulders and neck.

Johnny, who has a hole on the left side of his chest, red spatter over the wall behind him, slumped on the floor with fungi growing out of his arm ready to grow all over his glowing skin until he grows into the wall and starts letting out spores.

Johnny, dead.

You do not know if any air makes its way into your lungs. It surely does not feel like it. Your ears ring and your eyes go dark with purple spots all over your vision and you get dizzy and nauseous, but somehow, you stand.

“Mark!” You shout out, surprising yourself, calling and alerting him when you can already hear his fast approaching steps thumping on the floor at the sound of the gun fire. Before barely a few seconds can pass he barges into the room with his gun in his hand but stops when he sees you frozen in place. Then, he follows your gaze.

Even from the side of your eye, it is obvious he flinches. “What the hell happened here?” His voice is not above a whisper.

You look at the less familiar face lying on the ground, and its shoulder. “The bite marks look similar.” There is no sense of stillness in your voice as you speak. “I guess they just locked themselves away,” Teeth grinding tightly, you let out a silent and choked sob, because you cannot believe any of this bullshit your eyes are seeing.

Mark takes a few steps towards Johnny and picks something up from the ground— a paper— making his way to you. But he stands on his own while he reads with his slightly shaky hands, and crumples the paper once he is done skimming over it. He sits next to you on the hard, carpeted but otherwise concrete floor. “They got bit while they were clearing out the basement,” His lips wobble a bit, but he quickly covers it up by placing his fist over his mouth until it goes away. “Locked themselves in here so they wouldn’t harm anybody.”

“If the trespassers didn’t go through the district leaving every goddamn door open, none of this would’ve fucking happened.” Maybe you were trying to blame it on someone, or maybe you really were mad at them for their ignorance as they went through the city. You did not know for certain, although it felt a whole lot like it was the latter. Because they would not have had to camp here anyway. There would not have been infected in the buildings in the first place.

You sit down where you are standing, looking at Johnny.

All you know is that this was unfair. If anyone deserved surviving long in this world it was Johnny. He was physically strong, and he had a good mental attitude, and he was so purely good that the last thing he deserved was to die the way everybody did, alone and scared and not wanting to turn into one of those things. He deserved to die of old age if anything after living a happy and healthy life, continuing to help lonely recruits like you and Mark— doing what he likes to do until his very last days. Training, falling in love, teasing and pestering his friends whenever and wherever, giving advice, making people’s stomachs hurt with his smooth and not-so-smooth jokes, doing photography as long as that camera of his would survive, spending time with his family and not moving out of their house even though there are available houses until the time comes when he absolutely has to.

But he cannot do any of those things anymore.

He also cannot be there for you or Mark anymore.

Your trembling hand comes up to spread over your eyes and your fingers rest on your temples, and you hitch a breath in. “What are we going to do?” You ask Mark with your just as trembling voice as if he would know. The question is not necessarily about this particular moment in time, but about the far future as well. He lets it linger in the air as his eyes switch between the two bodies.

“Well,” He clears his throat when his voice shakes violently and looks at you, his hands playing with the carpet, picking and tearing away. He chooses to ignore the far future, at least for now. “We’ll have to tell his parents first.”

The hand on your face falls down. You look at Mark, and he notices how wide your eyes are. He knows you cannot comprehend it by the way your eyes look, looking right through him with your shell shocked, hundred-yard stare. “No,” You whisper. “Mark, I can’t.”

“That’s fine,” He looks into your eyes with his own that are glazed over, and nods reassuringly. “I can.”

But it does not feel better. Instead, it makes you feel worse immediately, because you feel like you at least owe Johnny and his parents this. It makes you feel ashamed that you will not do even one thing about it, because you do not think you would ever be able to look into his parents’ eyes again; knowing you joked about it before he left and you were too unbothered to go out after him before you were ordered to do so. There is nothing in your heart, mind, or body, that tells you that you can do it without completely losing yourself in the process.

The two of you collect yourselves and come back to your senses as quickly as you can, because you knew Yuta and Jaehyun would be on you if you were any more late.

Mark helps you in carrying the bodies down the stairs which is an extremely tiring task considering you go down several floors, and the mental toll it has on you. The two of you unblock the fire exit door and push the metal drawers and organizers aside, opening the door and carrying them to the lobby.

Then, you head outside. Yuta and Jaehyun do not spot Mark and you until you get closer, but when they do, their brows immediately furrow. “We need two bags.” You mutter, feeling your chest stutter with the words. Their faces fall at that very second. The grip Yuta has on his map that he is holding tightens and his knuckles go white, and he sighs with utter disappointment. Knowing Yuta, it is at himself.

“One of them’s Johnny.”

The muscles on their faces relax only for their eyes to widen.

It takes a few hours for all of you to get back to the city once you put them in bags and start riding, not galloping nor trotting; deciding not to look for the others knowing it would take a longer time to get back and not wanting to stress out anyone in the city further. A night group could easily replace yours.

When you are at the gates the sun has long set. Questions arise once the gates open and the bags dragged by the horses are seen. You and Mark answer them since you are the ones who found them in that state, where you found them, which building, which floor, was there anything written around them, any symbols, any human spotted around the area— anything useful.

You give them the answers still in a daze, and let them take Anubis from your hand. Without waiting for anybody you start walking, on the way to your house.

Except, you do not end up in your house for a while. You wait in the dark, just around the corner leading to Johnny’s house and you watch Mark deliver the news to them. Although you cannot hear what he says to them, you can see it clearly with the light on their porch. How Mark delivers the news with his hands linked in the front, fiddling with his fingers a little as he looks at their expectant faces. How Johnny’s mother hugs into his father once she hears the situation, both of them shaking with sobs. How Mark’s shoulders drop and how he tries to console them, but stopping when Johnny’s mother does not take a step away from her husband and he waves at Mark presumably wanting some space and time alone to themselves.

You watch as Mark nods and leaves, and you head to your house. Hurrying into your backyard, you swing open the door and kick off your boots. Not bothering to put them in their place, you take your bag off your shoulders and the only reason that you do not let it fall onto the floor is because of the guns packed inside. Then, you make a move to take your coat off.

And the damn zipper gets stuck.

With a sigh, you force it down. But it does not budge. So you try again, but it will not move. You wait, nibble on your lips, give it time to change its mind: maybe it was frozen and it needed to thaw.

But when you try again, it just does not want to move down.

Pissed off, you try to strip out of the coat. But that proves to be almost harder. Everybody wears thin but warm, lightweight coats to make their movability better, especially outside. But moving your whole arm to yourself and then down while holding the two layers of clothes, one thick sweater and the thin coat on top of it was undoable— because then they were fully limiting your movement.

And you had to take it off. You need to take it off.

Your hands then start picking and grabbing at the coat trying to rip it off, and that is when your door opens without any alert beforehand and Jaehyun walks in.

“What are you doing?” He whispers and walks over to you near your couch. You only stop struggling when he stands in front of you. “I can’t get it off, it’s stuck.”

He notices how you will not look into his eyes in the dark, and he notices the tears streaming down your face that you probably are not realizing. “Okay.”

Jaehyun walks over to your bathroom and takes a bar of soap you have. He walks right back to you in complete silence and dabs at your zipper with the sleeves of his hoodie up and down to take off the excess moisture, and starts slathering on the soap along the zipper until its sharp corner has visibly softened and the zipper looks white with the coat of it. He then fumbles with the zipper for a few seconds before it slides right down.

It makes you feel a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and you sniffle, only then realizing that you are crying after feeling the wetness in your inhale. Your lips waver as you try not to let a sob out. “There you go.” He mumbles as he helps you out of the coat and places it on the arm of your couch. He picks your boots up and places them next to the door.

“Let’s wash your hands.” He suggests, and you look down at your hands, seeing the blood from that Runner.

Jaehyun is almost late to hold you once your face violently scrunches up and you start fully letting it out, shaking with choked sobs.

Because your crying does not subside for several minutes, he ends up going to the bathroom again and comes back with a couple of wet rags, soaping one up and cleaning your hands delicately before wiping them off. He leads you to your bed then and lets you lie down, pulls the cover up, and kneels down in front of your face. “Try to sleep, okay? Force yourself to if you need it.”

You nod at him, and let him leave after he smiles at you.

His eyes had looked empty, which was always the worst for Jaehyun.

The next morning you hear your door lightly opening in your sleep, and being carefully shut. A few steps make their way over to you slowly and the empty side of your bed sinks with a somewhat loud huff.

Whoever it is waits for a bit, lets you sleep a little more even though you are not deep in it. That goes on for a few minutes before your bed sinks closer to your back, and it sinks a bit less than before— an elbow.

Fingers start running through and playing with your hair. It must be Jaehyun. And you are right. “Taeyong let me and Donghyuck take over you and Mark’s work for a couple of days, so you don’t have to go in today.” He softly whispers, and you nod slightly. “How’d you know I wasn’t sleeping?” You ask in hopes of distracting yourself from the thoughts and views that race over your eyelids, and open your eyes when it does not exactly work out.

He answers with a slight smile. “Your lashes fluttered when I walked in.” You feel him place his chin on your shoulder. “You slept any?”

Gulping, you shake your head. “Just got some shut-eye.”

“That’s okay.” Jaehyun whispers. “Better than keeping your eyes open. I’m happy you got some sort of rest.”

He sighs and takes his hand off your hair then. “Yuta wants to see you and Mark eating so he’s preparing breakfast. I have to leave, but head out soon and try to eat for me. A few bites is all I’m asking for.”

“Okay.”

Porridge and bergamot tea.

The breakfast Yuta has prepared for you and Mark, with some dried plums and apples inside that he fried on the pan a little. It smells nice, looks less so.

There is no one to greet and welcome you initially when you are in front of his house that is on the same street as Johnny’s. But it does not matter because you barge in to avoid being seen by his parents, taking big strides from the start of the street. You hear the stir of the wooden spoon inside the metal pot, and the fruit that spills in while you make your way to the kitchen.

Mark is sitting at the island counter of Yuta’s kitchen with his elbow on the surface, his head leant against his hand.

Yuta turns away from the cream colored counters and his electric stove once he hears the footsteps. “Morning.”

You see Mark’s head only tilt a little, but not fully to the extent that he can look back at you. “Hey.” Your voice does not really come out, so you clear your throat. Yuta’s face falls a little at that. “Is there tension in your throat?”

“Yeah.” You sit down next to Mark. With your hands placed on the surface, you turn your head to look at him but his face is covered by his hand and arm. “There’s some powdered ginger you can take in the pantry. But you should try and relax your muscles first.”

With that he pours the porridge into the bowls he has taken out for you, and serves them with a slight smile on his face. Then he pours the hot tea inside two small jars and hands them out as well. “Dig up.”

It does not feel right. The atmosphere is too heavy, but you know you will not get out of it unless you really eat something, so you pick up the spoon and take a spoonful of the meal, gathering a piece of everything. Letting it steam for a few seconds as you watch it, you contemplate putting it in your mouth because ever since yesterday you feel this sickness in your stomach. It is more fragile than it ever could be on any given normal day.

Even so, you take a bite. At first it feels like you will throw up at the sheer hue of sweetness in it.

But you chew, and continue chewing, and you do not throw up.

“I heard you’re going out again today.” Mark mumbles, which makes you perk up, looking at Yuta. His eyes widen in the slightest. “I am,” He says, his eyes looking boringly only at Mark.

You chuckle drily. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Taeyong wants me there. He’s going out too.” His explanation does not calm your heart, which feels like it is being squeezed, at all. You turn back to your bowl and continue picking some porridge. Just to avoid his gaze.

Yuta does not say that he would come back or that he would be okay. Because he knows that those words do not hold any meaning to them whatsoever, especially now. “I have to go soon, so you should better be finished with these before I do. I’ll let you drink the tea by yourselves.”

Mark and you start eating in complete silence. Mostly because Yuta is watching you eat and it is extremely uncomfortable, and it would be awkward to just talk as if he was not there.

It makes you both rush your meals as well. The bowls empty out in a matter of minutes and your stomach feels heavy, though in all honesty, it was a pretty good breakfast Yuta had prepared for you. It was a fact that you would not have bothered to cook or even to prepare something that did not need to be cooked.

When the two of you are done with your meals, Yuta smiles and takes the bowls away to wash them quickly. Mark tries to intervene and says that Yuta could go out and he would take care of the dishes, but Yuta shuts him right up saying he needs the distraction anyway.

You can see Yuta’s hands shaking slightly.

It is always difficult to know for sure what he is feeling. But if you had to give it a shot, you would say he is feeling either anxious or shocked, or both. He is the type to live his emotions very secretively, and you could never recall an instance where Yuta’s grief was noticeable. Maybe only when he had lost one of his recruited, young survivors on the way back home. That had changed him as a whole; losing someone (especially much younger than him) under his responsibility.

He leaves once the bowls are washed, not looking at your way or telling you goodbye. You are simultaneously thankful and angry at him for doing that.

The bergamot tea is still steamy. It somewhat burns your hands when you put them around the jar to warm yourself up and start looking into the dark substance, looking so deep into it that you start feeling as if you are part of the dark liquid.

Mark clears his throat. “You’re wearing the same things as yesterday.”

That is true: even though there is nothing that you want more than to take them off and trash them to never see them again. But at the same time, there is something inside of you that does not want to let go of them. Even if it is just taking them off.

You look at the side of his face, and see him taking a sip from the jar. “Could you sleep?”

He shakes his head with a gulp. “No, no. You?”

The two of you make eye contact when he finally properly looks at you, and you shake your head as well. “I kept seeing it like a picture— like something projected at the backs of my eyelids.”

Mark nods, and that is it for a while. No one speaks for some time and you sip your beverages together as if it is a chore that you have to do, as if Yuta would see you two if you spill the tea into the drain of the sink and would come after you, trying to get done as quickly as possible so both of you could leave to be by yourselves. And it goes on until Mark decides to speak in a low voice. “They buried him early in the morning. His parents didn’t want anybody to see.”

Your eyes burn and the lump forms back in your throat because you can understand why they would not want anyone to see, but at the same time, you cannot. “Some of his older recruits left him flowers and letters, seeing that made me feel a bit better.”

You nod. “He deserves that.” And so much more. Despite yourself you smile slightly, and Mark joins in understandably grim, nodding. “He does.”

The day goes by extremely slow, yet so fast once you are back at your house.

You let yourself take refuge on the bed and do not move much throughout the day, trying to sleep. Expectedly, you are not too good at doing that. You toss and turn and huff and look up at the ceiling meaninglessly until you can no longer hear kids playing outside and the adults going about with their daily duties; until daylight loses all of its significance. Until you realize you have melted into this state of mind and have completely forgotten about your needs, using the toilet, eating, or drinking water.

Yesterday’s clothes are still on you. And you cannot bring yourself to change out of them, again, even though there is nothing in this world you want more than to never see them again.

The night would have not had any significance whatsoever as well if it was not for the sounds of hurried shuffles through the snow that were coming out of your room’s window at whoever knows o’clock. Before you could even show any type of physical response to it- whether it be surprise or suspicion- there were loud and hard knocks on your door.

It takes probably all of the strength you have in you to get up and walk to the door. You laze your way over to it and swing it open, rubbing your eyes.

You would have expected it to be Jaehyun, since he must have gotten done with his duties. But it was not him. It was Mark.

Mark, whose eyes and face were lit up with adrenaline. There is not a single emotion you can make out from the way his face looks. The world could actually be ending for all you know, or the community might have been getting raided.

You cannot make anything out from the way his voice sounds, either, when you hear him speak the millisecond after the door knob turns. “They found the trespassers.”

The look in his eyes- whatever it was, shifts into concern for a split second before he carries on with his words. “One of them’s the one Yuta left a note for, they were making their way over here when Yuta found them.”

Those words spark a light in your chest because of course. Of course they were the ones that caused this whole thing in the first place and it sounds stupid to you now that you had not even thought about them when you noticed the doors were open.

Which is because the doors at the nearer town were, in fact, closed while you were there.

Now it does not make sense. “Wh- how- that doesn’t make any sense. The doors were closed when we were out earlier.”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know, I guess they got the theme by the time they were there. Yuta told me about the whole interrogation,” He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. “They claimed everything before they could even ask the questions.”

“Do they know they fucking killed people?” You ask, and Mark flinches at the harshness of the words. However, he nods promptly. “Yuta told them. They said they were sorry-”

It makes you laugh at the sheer comedy of it. “They were sorry? That doesn’t bring them back or make up for anything.”

“Nobody ever said it does-” Mark defends, but you are too angry at them to stop. “You know how fucking miraculous it is to survive twenty five years- the whole ordeal, especially when you go outside frequently. His parents pushed through thick and thicker with a newborn baby just to get to where they are now, to give him a damn chance at life and this is how Johnny goes? Because of someone else’s stupidity and inconsideration?” Shaking from anger, you wipe at your eyes that have gotten a little wet while your blow-up was going on. You gulp and shake your head, feeling the tension in your jaws. “They should save their apologies because not even a billion of them,” Faster than lightning, you hold a finger up in the air in between you and Mark. “Would make up for a single hair of Johnny’s that got hurt nor for a single tear of his parents.”

Mark, your poor friend and companion, only nods a little. He knows how you get when you are angry, and he knows how fed up you must be feeling, and he can see how tired and out-of-it you look, so he does not talk. He knows that if he were to say anything you would spill words from your mouth you would either regret saying or would only upset you more, and he did not want that to happen.

Though, Mark did have to say one thing. A part of the truth that would concern the two of you. “They’re from the Nox.”

He watches your eyes slowly widen. In a matter of seconds, you look awake and aware as if you did get all the sleep you had lost the past two days within those few moments. You lean your shoulder against the door for support or from the shock, he cannot be sure. “What?” You whisper.

Mark shifts from his place, the tips of his shoes touching your socks as he leans in much closer- most probably to drown his voice out. The neighbors should not hear more than what they might have already heard so far, even though you had been conversing in low tones. “From the headquarters,” He whispers, looking into your eyes. “They came to recruit people from this area. The others are with them.”

Your brows furrow with the oncoming nerves. “So there were more of them and they just joined?”

After a second’s hesitation, Mark nods. “Seems so.”

“Why would they?” Upon the question, Mark takes a deep breath and pushes his shoulders back much like a school kid being questioned on a topic they have not studied, and looks at the side. The yellow lights from other people’s windows hit his face as he nibbles on his bottom lip indecisively. When he turns back to face you, the lights still illuminating the right side of his face, he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Mark does not get surprised when you chuckle humorlessly. “Well I think it’s pathetic to run with people who’ve killed your own.”

It is quiet for a few seconds as he nibbles on his lip some more, but in the end something- that looked much like defeat- washes over him before he just nods a little. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Maybe five seconds of quiet before he speaks, looking down at his hands where his fingers are picking at scabs formed over his knuckles that seemed to be there every living day. “Um,” He swallows the words that would come after that at first, but he thinks, and thinks some more. It takes a couple of seconds, but he does decide to speak up. “You know what, nevermind. Maybe later.”

You get a bit taken aback but he cannot tell, because your brows are still furrowed a bit angrily and there is no other emotion over your face. “Do you know where Jaehyun is? He said he’d come straight after his duties.”

Mark’s mouth opens but no word leaves it. “He uh,” It closes and opens once again, his eyes widening a little. “He’s- he volunteered,” He clears his throat and looks down. “He volunteered for filiation.”

“Of what?” Your heartbeats have gotten significantly faster, stronger and heavier, but you cannot say if it is worry or the oncoming anger. “The trespassers’ base. Taeyong was looking for someone he could trust and he-,”

“Amazing,” You chuckle and shuffle on your feet, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s amazing.” Mark sees you lower your head and your tongue swipe over your bottom lip as you smile bitterly, and when you raise your head back up, he can see the unshed liquid shine with the moonlight. “Why does nobody act responsible?” You whisper, and he sees the falter in your furrowed brows- the stutter.

But Mark knows you better.

He knows this is not how you truly think. He knows you out of all people want to move at the front, he knows you want that the most, and Mark knows you blame yourself for the things you are (in his opinion, rightfully) unable to do. He knows it is because you are scared. He knows you are terrified. Because it has been long, so long since either of you two have even gotten close to properly surviving outside and in all honesty: through these years of routinely going out for shorter periods of time and not having to dwell on things out of the gates, you two have grown accustomed to the feeling of homely safety. It really had felt like nothing and nobody would be able to reach you or anyone around you, even if it felt like it just inside the walls. The bubble of routine reality hidden in the much chaotic and unforgiving reality that was this community had slowly but surely implanted the expectation of seeing your loved ones get back home as if it was just a shift of a pre-apocalypse job- what they called 9-to-5.

And Mark knows this is almost like a reset, and that the sense of security and whatever this place has brought you feels like it is gone. He feels like it too.

Mark hates to see you this way. He hates to feel this way. He hates that Johnny was the one who had to go out of everyone, because he was the best of you.

But he knows he should take care of who he has left. In whatever way he can.

When he looks at you, the concerned look in his eyes from a few moments ago is back. “Have you slept any?”

You shake your head. “No.”

He nods as if he expected the murmured answer. “We’re going back to duties tomorrow, you need to sleep some.” Mark sees you chuckle just once and hears you mutter an ‘Easy to say.’ while tilting your gaze down, but he interrupts you by pointing inside, albeit a bit reluctantly. “Do you want me to help?”

“Would you?” He nods, the genuinity somehow visible from the way he does, and steps in gladly when you get away from the door and open it wide enough for him to walk in.

It had been long since the last time he had helped you sleep. It was a few years ago when you were on your own, having just separated from a group of survivors the two of you had become somewhat attached to. Their goals with life were much different than Mark’s and yours- two mere teenagers whose only wish was to not be much farther from home in hopes of reuniting with the people you had grown with.

Who could ever know that a little over three weeks of traveling on foot would already be too far from home, and too impossible to ever cross paths with? A miracle, really, ‘for kids your age’ (as people who were around the age of your parents would say).

Some nights the hopelessness and the feeling of never belonging to any group would take over you. Mark was the only person you could depend on, and you were the only person he could depend on. With how young you both were it was only natural that both of you had times where the cycle of hunger, loneliness, the paranoia of surviving and being infected, almost-dying but being saved, seeing the only person you depend on almost die but saving them, either being showered with love from other survivors or being hated for whatever reason, and getting left behind either way would get too much to deal with.

The two of you were camping overnight inside a completely empty water tower, warm and dark in the winter night- the last gift of the survivor group you had tagged along with had been an old map marked all over with safe and hopefully clear places to settle in. Plus the groups you should never encounter.

So he had done what he was doing right now. He made you lay down like right now, that time on the hard concrete and now on your kind of soft mattress that was slowly rotting away, knelt in front of you unlike in the past when he laid down beside you, started playing (more like softly scratching) with your hair and scalp because he knew it worked well to make you sleep, and sang in a low tone because he knew you loved it, and found comfort in it.

His voice sounds rougher than ever when he starts.

“Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,” This song is much too familiar, and it is Mark’s favorite verse of it. It means so much to him, having been brought up with faith in a world he once stated he felt was ‘too far from it’.

“And I will dwell on this earth forevermore,” His voice is soothing and soft, even though you knew he preferred his rapping much better over his singing. “Said, I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul,”

He stops a little to take a breath, an unnecessary one, yet heavy. “But I can’t walk on the path of the right because I’m wrong.”

Mark’s voice is working its charm- or maybe it is knowing you are not alone, you do not know. But your head was getting clouded and dazed with the sleep creeping up to take you over already. He, however, continues. “Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill,”

His voice cracks a little. “Called himself the savior of the human race,”

Through the cloud of sleep, you try to reach him. Only mentally, but you try to reach him. You wanted to hear him until the end. “Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said ‘How can you save the world from itself?’”

You barely make it to the end of the line, only hearing a glimpse of his sporadic whistling.

When you open your eyes you see Johnny sitting down next to your hand laid in front of your face, hugging the pillow. He smiles down at you, ruffling your hair for a bit. The room is dim- only the wall lights are on. The environment is mostly dark, even Johnny’s face that is much closer to you than anything. You can still see him pretty well, though, in the dim, warm yellow lighting.

His clothes are relatively clean. A few stains and tears here and there, but nothing unusual. Him and his parents’ ways of doing laundry were always superior to many others. You wanted to learn how but Johnny said you would have to come and do it with them once to properly learn once you are out of the dorms. Sometimes he would offer to do your laundry for you when the queues and waiting periods of the laundry got too long in the dorms- it was easier to have problems with water at a rather small place where a lot of people lived, and when they got their clothes really dirty almost every single day while getting educated on survival skills and agriculture.

His face is bright. His eyes are puffy just the right amount; he looks energetic. His smile is of genuine fondness towards you, and it makes you smile as well.

“Sleeping too deep?” He asks quietly. The dorm room is unoccupied excluding the two of you; your roommate had gotten a bad cold and was kept in the small hospital ward. You shake your head at his question but the yawn you let out contradicts with the motion. “I was just taking a nap.”

Johnny nods and looks down for a second, sighing a little before looking back at you and slightly raising his hand which held a tea cloth, showing off the little pouch. “Eomma sent some cornbread. I brought some dried figs as well.”

Excitement washes over you, and you take the cloth out of his hand gratefully when he holds it out for you. Unable to hold yourself back, you break a small piece off of a slice of cornbread and happily put it inside your mouth- giggling in delight when you notice the fresh corn taste and the fluffy texture. Johnny chuckles at your reaction and coos only a little.

His smile dies down pretty fast despite its brightness just a moment ago. Which is unusual for him, who likes to stretch his smiles out for as long as he possibly could.

“Can I lie down?” He asks and points at the pillow reluctantly. You nod and scoot closer to the wall, arching your back a little and tilting your head back to secure the tea cloth of snacks inside the small, empty vase placed on the windowsill. It operated as a whatever-holder: sometimes it was actual flowers, sometimes it was small jewellery or gifts you had gotten on your birthdays, sometimes the very occasional letter from Mark even though he was just two buildings down, but usually it was snacks from Johnny.

He lies down next to you and does not bother to get under the blanket, placing his hands on his stomach as he looks at the ceiling. You watch his chest rise and fall three, maybe four times before he can start speaking. “Did you ever observe one?”

“An infected?” He hums at your question. You look at the ceiling and try to remember a time you might have but nothing resurfaces. “Not really. Was too busy trying to save my ass. Or Mark’s.”

“You never went outside before the raid?” Johnny asks, quite curious. You shake your head again even though you are not sure if he would see it. “Not never, but we were in school mostly. It was high up in an apartment so it was the safest place. I did not have to worry much about them until we were older.”

An exhausted sigh makes its way past your lips and it is not only because you are physically exhausted. “And then we ran.” Turning your head to the side to look at his face, you smile. “And now I’m in a different kind of school.” Calling the dormitories a school was simultaneously a far reach and not. It was mostly to train people to not be shenanigans until they became adults, and to be responsible with their duties and communal living once they were one.

A hand laid on his stomach reaches out for one of yours and he holds it, squeezing in a way that could not be described as tightly but rather, strongly. In a way that reassured you and calmed you down, in the way that made all your past worth the present. “You’ll get to be a Wanderer soon enough. Just a few months more.”

“I just like the idea of having my own place,” You chuckle as you shrug, acting like being a Wanderer was the least of your interests. “A bathroom all to myself, a less shitty bed and having the freedom to walk around whenever…”

“Just make sure you don’t forget about us when you get your luxury.” He smiles and looks at you, and you smile back at him devilishly. “I couldn’t if I wanted to,” At that, Johnny’s mouth drops open in surprise and happiness, but you cut him off before he can even start, playing your game further. “You see, unfortunately most people I consider friends in here aren’t peaceful, calm farmers or healers or-”

“Yeah, we all have a fucked-up liking of the outside,” He nods as he talks to himself, eyes slightly squinted. But he comes to his own rescue with a protest. “It’s not like anybody can blame us. Being lost in the old world is quite dreamy when there aren’t screeching mushrooms running around.”

It makes you laugh the way he addresses once-people back from the dead, even snort a little. It had been long since you had seen one. Young recruits, or recruits that basically were not at the age of maturity, were not allowed to go on patrols, research scouts, or sweeps unless it was absolutely necessary. From what Taeyong had told you the first time you ever stepped foot into the dorms and were told about the way things went around the city, it was to give people, especially teens, a chance.

A chance to live at least until the day they were considered adults.

“Speaking of,” Johnny’s smile dies down once more. He takes a big breath, and his chest rises with it, and he holds it there for a few seconds. When it is let out, it sounds sad more than anything. Maybe even a bit depressed. “When we were out on a patrol today with Taeyong, there was this small group of Runners at one of the checkpoints,”

He looks at you, but you do not say anything, so he continues. “So we were clearing the place out as we do, and I went upstairs while Taeyong stayed behind just to be safe. I went into the studio to write down the report,”

With that he turns his gaze back to the ceiling, scrunching his eyebrows slightly. “And there was this.. Runner, it- he didn’t hear or see me so I hid behind a table. But he wasn’t moving around, you know? Just standing at the same spot. It was very early stage, he had just turned. Maybe a couple of days ago, I don’t know,”

He starts fiddling with his fingers. “He looked around the same age as me, or maybe a bit younger. Wasn’t flimsy, didn’t look like he’d been starving- he just looked healthy otherwise. But as I looked at him and the way he flinched, the way his hands moved and his shoulders cramped; the way he grunted.. it sounded too human.”

There is silence for a second or so, but he picks his words right back up. “And his eyes- his eyes,” Johnny breathes, and the sound that comes from his nose sounds a bit too stuffed and wet to be normal. “They didn’t look completely empty. Not even meaningless.”

He looks down at his hands that are still fiddling, his lips hanging out a bit the way they did whenever he was sleepy or sad. Then, he nods a little, confirms whatever is going through his mind. “I think he was there,” His voice cracks and stutters. “Inside. Trapped and waiting until it consumed his brain whole. Trying to fight back as if it would be any help.”

“And I couldn’t help but think, as I shot him down,” He shrugs and shakes his head. “That I’d never want to be trapped in my own body and have to wait until I have no control over it, if it ever happened to me.” And he looks at you.

Johnny looks at you.

With his sad, brown, dark eyes. His empathy for the Runner and for his own self. He looks at you so deep, almost like he is frozen.

Because he is.

You reach out your hand to touch his arm, and find it to be extremely cold, and stiff.

He is gone.

You wake up breathless and almost shoot yourself out of your bed with the force you are sitting up. Mark is gone, and nobody else is there. You are completely alone. The sky is just turning a bit grey, signalling the coming of the morning.

Sighing, you try to relieve some of the pain in your jaws and chest; trying to forget the memory of Johnny that was now your nightmare. You had clenched up too much, it felt stiff everywhere. Now, your head was hurting too.

There is not a single drop of sleep left in you- even if there was, you hardly think you would be able to go back.

So you get up.

Walking to your closet in a hurry, you pick out some clothes in the dark. In all honesty you do not even know what you are picking, but it does not matter. There would be very few people outside at the dead of the night if at all, and you could not care less about how they thought your outfit was.

This felt like the only time you could actually visit him. You just wanted to be alone with him, and the silence.

Once you wear your coat you are already half outside. You shut your door as quietly as you possibly could in your hurry, which was undeniably a little loud even if it had been a reasonable time to leave your house, but it was not like people would care. Unless someone or something was screaming, nobody really cared.

From your house to the cemetery took around ten minutes of walking, which was a reasonable distance given how spread out this city was. How it came to be this big you did not exactly know. Johnny had told you sometime that the bigger series of stone buildings belonged to a winery- the wines would be fermented in the summer and then shipped out here in the fall to age before being sold, which was what his parents told to him. It made sense, because the stone buildings all had underground basements that were all connected, some of which were used as a hospital ward and some of which were used as a communal living space for people who did not really have families nor a role in the community like a Farmer, Wanderer or Sweeper. Basically for people who were deemed unqualified to have their own houses.

It kind of sucked, but then again, some people actually preferred being there. The director of the basements and dorms, this lovely woman called Sarwendah, had told you once that even though it was not the majority, some people found comfort in living with other people openly since it made them forget the reality of everything as long as they were in that bubble.

The wooden buildings were either built after the gates were built- which, the gates were built after the army claimed the zone to themselves at the start of the outbreak, whose control over the area for something around 11 years, Johnny remembered those times in his childhood- or they were the ones already built for the winery’s workers and their families.

Johnny. That bit of knowledge came from Johnny too, as well as many others.

And when you are in the cemetery walking through the graves, looking for his name and spotting it without much time passing, you see a silhouette standing right at the foot of the grave.

Who, upon walking closer, turns out to be Mark.

Who, also upon walking closer, seems to be fully equipped with bags and his gun.

“Why so equipped?” You ask, and it startles him, but he does turn around and watch you as you walk over to him. “You’re going outside to join Jaehyun?”

He clears his throat. “No, he got back,” There is a split second of silence that feels a bit too long in your confusion for how long it actually is. Mark rolls his shoulders back and takes a deep breath, lets it out, creating a rather long-lasting vapor. “But yeah, I’m going outside.”

“Where?” You ask further, and he visibly winces. He avoids the question to play with the stones around Johnny’s grave with his foot, nibbling on the inside of his mouth before mumbling. “I should’ve told you before but I couldn’t.”

Your brows furrow as a string is pulled at your heart with the suspicion and the piecing of things together. “What were you going to say?”

One more exhale, but this time sharp and clear-cut. Controlled. He looks at you, looks in your eyes, and tells you the words you would have never imagined he would. “They’re releasing the trespassers and I’m leaving with them.”

Everything kind of slows down at that moment if that is even possible with the lack of action-filled things around you. Shock, was it? Or utter betrayal? “I’m sorry?”

Mark takes a step closer to you and fully turns his body to face you, towering above you not so much with his height but more so with his body language. “They’re working on a vaccine. They trust what they’ve got in their hands and they’re traveling around recruiting people to guard the headquarters. They’re afraid someone might-”

It was all too much.

“Mark, what the fuck are you talking about?” You snarl, and it shuts him up effectively. Yet, after that, you do not say anything. You wait for him to explain himself and after a couple of overwhelmed inhales, he takes the opportunity. “I’m going there to work as a guard. They’re afraid of the possibility of someone stealing the samples, or worse, attacking the lab. They need every volunteer they can get right now.”

Anger.

Pure anger is what you are feeling, and it is indescribable. It covers you from head to toe, right to left, inside and out; it feels hot and yet, icy cold. “Johnny’s blood hasn’t even dried yet, and you’re leaving with the very people who caused his death?”

Mark looks taken aback. “Be sensible. They couldn’t have known about the doors, they’re the first group from the headquarters to come here in years. It’s life or death out there, and they probably didn’t have the time for details.”

You take a step closer to him as if it is possible, and hit his shoulder lightly. “How about you be a little sensible? How can you trust them so easily? What if they’re saying these just to recruit all those people- and to travel all the way through there-”

“They have a car. Takes three days.” Mark cuts in, which makes you chuckle humorlessly. “Okay, great. What if they just recruit you to use you as a scapegoat for when they encounter bandits? Or, like I said, they just recruit you to have more guards? The vaccine has been a word since forever, Mark, and we know it. It’s a stupid hopeless rumor.”

“I’m telling you, they have scientists and they have evidence-” Mark starts, but you cut him off. “Yes! But their people also raid towns, and these people themselves are inconsiderate enough to screw up our whole system and kill our friends along the way-” You are basically trying to make sense to him with your whole body, pointing at the grave and getting closer to him and looking at his eyes to make him regain some of his sense. Just enough to keep him here, where he should be. “How can you trust them with your own life when they’ve been so inconsiderate of the others’ time and time again? You walk out of here with them and the next thing you know, you’re dead, Mark.” You point to your left, which is the direction of the big gates where the trespassers must be leaving, as they need to leave under the Leaders’ watch.

He is silent upon that. It takes him a few moments to come up with the words he is going to say, and his eyes flicker around under the confused sunlight signalling the coming of the early morning.

But he comes up with them nonetheless. “I owe it to people and to him,” He points at the grave. “To do whatever part I can to end this someday. And if I need to go to great extents and forgive them, so be it.”

And with a determined gaze in his eyes you had never seen from Mark before, he says what he really thinks. “I’d rather die running after something I believe in than live with the shame every day.”

You understand.

Not him, but that he is going.

That maybe, he is already gone.

“You leave,” You look at the grave and bite the inside of your cheek before looking back at Mark. “And I’ll come looking after you.” You whisper.

He looks away and bites down on his lip, placing his hands on either side of his hips. And then, he shrugs, not even trying to think it through. “That’d be up to you.”

And he starts walking towards the left, leaving you at the cemetery.

For the first time, you are alone.

#NCT-WRITERS #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct mark #nct jaehyun #nct johnny #nct yuta #nct haechan #i'm so nervous tagging these because oh my god before i left only 5 tags could work for me #so i'm not gonna tag much #it's 4 am for me and i'm doing this instead of midterms. i deserve to be punished

53 notes · View notes

moneymingyu · 4 years ago

Text

The Fight

[summary: the events that transpire the night before jeonghan proposes]

pairing: idol!jeonghan x non idol!reader

word count: 2,433

genre: angst

warning: depictions of a minor anxiety attack

master list

His ears are still ringing, adrenaline pumping through his veins that causes his head to spin as he rides through the high that only the stage could bring him. He was born for this, people say. He looses himself for a second in this sea of a thousand faces as he bows with his members before exiting stage left and hopping down the stairs.

“Great show, Jeonghan!” somebody says, putting him on the shoulder in this backstage haze. There are more people congratulating him, more people proposing dinner celebrations and drinks on them but all Jeonghan can think about is how fast he’s crashing and how the ache in his knees and feet are rising into his chest until he can’t hear anything but the rush of blood sloshing in his ears as he fumbles with his bag and pulls out his cell phone.

[1] New Message

From: My Love ❤��

Jeonghan, we need to talk.

[3] Missed Calls

From: My Love ❤️

[1] New Message

From: My Love ❤️

I don’t think I can do this anymore...

[1] New Message

From: My Love ❤️

Jeonghan, I know your concert hasn’t started yet. We need to talk now.

[1] New Message

From: My Love ❤️

You can’t avoid this forever, Jeonghan...You saw it coming too.

[1] New Message

From: My Love ❤️

Your concert has already started, I see...Jeonghan, let’s be real. You and I are as close as strangers now. All of these late nights and time zones...I’m not sure I can do this anymore...I’m sorry...

He feels his legs buckle underneath him.

No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Not today. No, no, no-

“Hyung? Are you okay?” a voice says from behind him, shaking his shoulder. “Hyung. Hey. Hyung! Can you hear me?” Over the pounding in his head, he can just barely make out the concern in Dokyeom’s voice as he feels the younger squat down next to him. He sounds almost a mile away. “Mingyu, get ‘Cheol!” he calls out, frantically wiping at Jeonghan’s cheeks. “Hey, hyung. It’s okay! Hey, can you hear me? Can we get some oxygen over here?! Jeonghannie isn’t breathing well!”

Before Jeonghan knows it, there’s a mask being shoved over his face. Long strands of his hair get tangled in the plastic tubes and stick to his sweaty forehead and tear stained cheeks. He suddenly feels a hand pushing them away and instantly knows they belong to Joshua. He opens his eyes and sees a moment of panic flicker in the younger’s eyes before they go back to their normal, stoic gaze.

“You okay now?” Joshua asks as he gently pulls away the mask. Jeonghan instantly collapses into his arms and continues to sob into his shoulder, no doubt smudging make up all over his plain white shirt. “There, there,” he whispers, rubbing a soothing circle on his back. “Let’s go back to the hotel, hm?”

With shaky legs, he’s hoisted up by Joshua and Seungcheol, who has always had a problem masking his worries. Seungcheol’s effort to avoid eye contact doesn’t go unnoticed but Jeonghan decides not to comment on it. Jeonghan knows he can’t look at him, not when his face is a mess of tears and snot and sweat. He knows the oldest of the group is prone to crying when somebody else cries. He feels bad for making him worry. He doesn’t deserve a friend like him.

At the hotel, Joshua runs him a warm bath. He offers to bathe with him (because, well. That’s just what members do sometimes) but Jeonghan shakes his head. Instead, Joshua squats down beside the tub and washes gently washes his hair for him, humming a small, familiar tune from a song that only he and his members know.

Before he knows it, he’s swaddled in the slightly yellowing white sheets of his all too big hotel bed. His head lays on Dokyeom’s chest as the younger hugs him tightly (because “hugs can fix anything,” according to Dokyeom). Joshua is flicking through a book in a chair next to the bed while Seungcheol sits at the edge with Jeonghan’s feet in his lap, massaging them slowly.

“Hyung. You should have told us you had something on your chest!” Dokyeom frowns. Jeonghan thinks it’s cute when the younger tries to scold him. His eyes always have too much worry and not enough sternness to them. Jeonghan wants to make sure nothing will ever cause the lights in Dokyeom’s eyes to fade away. “We want to take care of you too! You don’t always have to take care of us!” Jeonghan hums in response.

His head isn’t spinning like before but a soft thud in his temples does remind him that he should take a tylenol after he eats whatever Seungcheol ordered from room service.

“What even happened back there?” Dokyeom whispers.

It’s not like he’s prodding for an answer. Jeonghan knows that. He knows that Dokyeom will accept his silence and move on. He knows that he can keep his pain a secret. He knows that after years of being together, none of them can push another to talk about something until the person feels up for it.

And yet, as he sees the worry set on Seungcheol’s face, feels the slight shaking from Dokyeom as he holds back his tears, sees the way Joshua’s eyes constantly flick up to check on him, he can’t help but feel it’d be selfish of him to keep this a secret.

So, with a deep breath and a crack in his voice, he says, “YN wants to break up with me.”

It’s like the world stops spinning and all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

“What?” It’s Dokyeom to break the silence first. His voice is still soft; a whisper almost, as if any louder could shatter this moment into a million tiny pieces.

Jeonghan sniffles. “They said-“ he stutters for a breath, “they said that they couldn’t do this anymore. I’m a stranger now.” He feels the tears rushing out of him now, like a dam has just bursted in his tear ducts. His chest tightens as he tries to regulate his breathing. “I-I didn’t even realize and I-“

“Sshh,” Joshua shifts to sit on the bed. He grabs a tissue from the box on the side table and uses it to gently wipe his rosy cheeks. “Have you talked to them?” Jeonghan shakes his head. He doesn’t even know where his phone is.

“But, hyung...” Dokyeom frowns. “You were gonna-“

Seungcheol quickly smacks the younger’s leg, shaking his head in warning as Jeonghan starts to cry even harder.

Jeonghan can’t bring himself to look at Seungcheol. He can’t bring himself to see the remorse on his face.

There’s a hole burning in Jeonghan’s backpack. Seungcheol eyes the pocket sadly. A small box. A promise. A forever.

Seungcheol thinks back to seven weeks ago when Jeonghan slowly entered his room asking to talk to him, hesitant and even a bit reluctant. He remembers that it was the first time in his life he’s ever seen the nonchalant facade, that only Yoon Jeonghan can keep up, falter. He watched the younger twiddle his fingers and intake a shaky breath before asking if it’d be alright propose to you, apologies profusely falling from his lips. Seungcheol remembers tearing up, telling him that it wasn’t up to him. If it was what Jeonghan wanted, he’d stand firmly by him. He remembers how hard Jeonghan cried because he loves you but he loves this band too. He didn’t want to put the careers of his 12 brothers in jeopardy but he also knew you were getting tired of waiting.

So, the two of the devised a plan. They’d go on tour, one last hoorah for this band of brothers, before Jeonghan would come back and promise you the forever you deserved.

One day.

Jeonghan literally had one more day away from you.

He was supposed to fly back tomorrow morning and surprise you that evening.

Seungcheol exhales sadly. “Hannie...” he frowns, moving so that Jeonghan could lay on his chest.

Jeonghan mainly blames himself.

You deserved so much more. He knew a paragraph text and a selfie could only do so much. You deserved someone who could be there for you, somebody who could hold you, somebody who could talk with you and buy groceries with you and stroll along the street with you. You deserved somebody who could give you forever.

Dokyeom watches helplessly from the side. Joshua, who notices the way he’s on the brink of tears, brings himself to his feet.

“DK,” he says, “why don’t you and I go see where Hoshi is. Hm?”

The youngest nods slowly. He knows the last thing they need is two people crying. He stands up and rounds the bed until he can see the parts of Jeonghan’s face that isn’t buried in Seungcheol’s neck. He grabs hold of one of his hands and smiles sadly.

“Hyung, stay strong. You still have tomorrow, don’t you?” he says hopefully before squeezing his palm. “I love you, Hannie. We’re all here for you.” With that, Joshua escorts him out of the room with one last nod to Seungcheol. Take care of him, it says.

Seungcheol isn’t sure how long he holds Jeonghan until his sobs subside into sniffles but he holds him the entire time, rocking the both of them back and forth to the lull of some forgotten lyrics they scrapped way back when.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jeonghan whispers, defeated. “I love them.”

Seungcheol thinks he’s the most inadequate person for this type of situation. He’s never been in love. Hell, his entire dating career has just been bouts of him hooking up with other people in hopes of feeling something that might equate to love.

But, even if he doesn’t know much about love, he does know a lot about Jeonghan. As the two eldest members of the group, they’ve gone through hell and back together. Where Seungcheol is lacking, he has Jeonghan by his side to make up for it. They’ve seen each other at rock bottom and have picked up the broken pieces of this group until their hands bled.

And if there was one thing that Seungcheol knew about Jeonghan, one thing that he both admired yet sometimes hated about Jeonghan, was the fact that the Yoon Jeonghan would never go down without a fight. He’d fight tooth and nail for what he wanted.

So, with this in mind, Seungcheol says, “Well if I were you, I’d march right up to YN and say ‘Hey! What the fuck?! I was about to propose here!’” It’s enough to make Jeonghan giggle for the first time all day. The younger smacks his chest playfully before pulling himself to a seated position, wiping his eyes with a tissue. “Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says, causing him to look up. “You can’t just give up.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jeonghan scoffs. “Love is a fucking warzone and I’m holding a grenade right now.” He shakes his head and lets his eyes drop down to his lap. “I’m an idiot.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol frowns. “I will not stand for my best friend bashing himself. All of those rights are reserved for me and occasionally Joshua.”

“Hey!”

“But,” he softly smiles, “if I’m being honest, you are an idiot. An actual stupid fucking idiot.”

“Gee, thanks hyung,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I wasn’t done! Let me talk!” Seungcheol huffs, finally getting the younger one to quiet down. “You’re an idiot, Jeonghan. An actual, certified idiot. And do you know why?” After a long pause, Jeonghan meets his eyes. “Because love is a warzone. But you don’t just...get thrown into one,” he waves his hand.

“Well actually-“

“Jeonghan!” He instantly quiets. “What I’m saying is that in most cases, you have to go through strenuous training to even be allowed the opportunity to step foot on the field. And after all of that, you still have to fight many small battles in order to win the war.”

“You suck at motivational speeches,” Jeonghan pouts. “It may work on the little ones but-“

“But listen,” Seungcheol’s voice drops down to a low tone. “You’re already stupid enough to be holding the grenade in the first place. Either throw the grenade back to where it came from or blow up with it.”

Jeonghan stares at Seungcheol.

He’s right and as much as Jeonghan hates to admit it, he is.

He starts to think back at all of the sleepless nights he used to go through just for a second to talk on the phone with you. He remembers when he would set alarms so that he could send you a good morning and good night text. He remembers planning out his day so meticulously just so that he could eat at the same time as you.

He’s fought hard for you. He’ll admit that. From loosing sleep over you to arguing with you, Jeonghan has to admit that he’s changed because of you. He’s cut off old parts of himself and has become something that five years ago, he wouldn’t have imagined could have ever been him.

And it’s been for the better.

That’s why, the next morning, Jeonghan gets on the plane with his members in tow. He recites a speech in his head and replays it over and over again despite the fact that the words are starting to jumble together into the white noise. He repeats and repeats it until he’s rolling his luggage through the airport.

He hugs his members one by one. He thanks them all for their parts and rolls, no character too big or too small in his story.

Jeonghan then drives for what seems like days, weeks, months. His mind flashing with different memories. The first time you guys met, the fist time you guys kissed, your first arguments, the first time you guys cried for the other, the first time you guys cried because of the other, the very first “I love you.”

His body is pumping with the adrenaline he thought that only the stage could give him. He knows his members are blowing up his phone, sending him texts of encouragement and love but he can’t be bothered to check them as he finally finds himself at your doorstep.

He knocks twice and watches as the door swings open.

There you are in all of your beauty. The wind is knocked out of him as a whirlwind of emotions from the past five years with you by his side all hits him at once.

“Jeonghan?” you whisper, eyes in disbelief.

“Hey,” he smiles, fingers curling around the box hidden behind his back. “Can we talk?”

66 notes · View notes

elexica · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chance Christmas {{ Masterpost :: Photobook }}

archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/68139094

Summary: The radio had droned on about an incoming polar vortex. How could the weatherman have known that his ex-husband would be on the plane? - - - Following an acrimonious divorce, Joey and Kaiba have managed to co-parent the kids without seeing each other for three years. After Kaiba is caught in a blizzard, Joey is forced to spend the holiday with his ex-husband, and confront certain feelings that he thought were dead. Rating: Explicit {{ Photobook: a collection of key pieces and the header images }}

The sleet fell heavily against the car, turning the view through the windshield into an impressionist painting of abstract asphalt and splotchy red break lights. The drives to the private airport in Westchester were always the worst. Even though Kaiba rarely accompanied the kids on the flight from Japan, even the haunting proximity to the shiny private jets and the trappings of his ex put Joey on edge. Not because he longed to be driving the expensive cars parked in the lot or any other petty envy, but because the whole place always reeked of Kaiba’s ghost. How the man could haunt the freeways and tangled overpasses from thousands of miles away was yet another unsettling superpower of his ex-husband.

As it stood, the side tackle that Joey settled on was perfectly effective. They rolled in the snow a bit, Kaiba able to twirl and pass the phone between his hands deftly and Joey ready to brute force the situation. He had no qualms with getting snow in his ex-husband’s hair or up his nose.

What was surprising was when Kaiba stopped fighting. He had been pinned down pretty well, back digging into snow, wrists held by Joey’s determined fingers as if handcuffed over his head, flakes stuck to his eyelashes and drenching his scarf. Joey had one knee jamming Kaiba’s thighs into the ground.

Joey paused with those hands in his vice grip, feeling Kaiba’s muscles relax under his hands. The palms were facing him, and they were empty. The only metal that Joey could see was the one thing he had longed to forget—Kaiba was still wearing his wedding ring.

Joey got up in his face, so close he could smell Kaiba’s shampoo. Other than the soft sandalwood scent, it felt a bit like when he was riling up a rival high school bully back in Domino. “Fight me! Make me leave! You want me to go so bad? Then make me!”

Kaiba smirked, knowingly. Then he leaned his head back against the chair. His bangs fully eclipsed his eyes. “I won’t. I’ll just sleep here.” There it was again. The checkmate tenor.

“Fine!” Joey plopped down in the seat next to him, the velvet of his matching seat just soft enough. “Then I’ll sleep here too.”

If Kaiba shifted his eyes to check, Joey couldn’t tell under the thick brown bangs. In any case, the stubborn ass didn’t get up. He didn’t storm off or leave. He just stayed there, like a determined rock under Joey’s constant observation.

After about half an hour, Joey heard the even breathing pick up into a light snore.

In the morning, Kaiba awoke alone in the guest room, with no memory of how he got there.

When they were married, it had been something of a post-shower ritual for Joey to help his husband with the scar cream. It was never all that effective, the cuts were too old, and the tissue had healed in a fairly gnarly way. But it felt like a nice way to address everything without having to talk about it. An unspoken source of healing—even if pretty futile.

It was also unbearably intimate, a fact that Joey had somewhat forgotten.

No one else was ever so intimate with Kaiba—and he certainly wouldn’t let anyone else near something so vulnerable. Even now, Joey was somewhat surprised that he had been allowed, running his finger over the raised skin. He was always as gentle as he could be, almost reverent, and he could hear the skimming of his thumbprint grazing his ex’s skin.

Kaiba’s breathing had gone from intentional and deep inhales in response to the massage to a sort of shallowness, as if he was trying to keep his torso from moving and unsettling Joey. Joey drew his finger across an old gash towards the top of his back.

Kaiba’s skin quivered under the cool cream, and it was almost overwhelming. Joey tried to finish the rest of them quickly, old feelings bubbling in his chest too strongly. The familiar smells and touches were too potent.

Joey didn’t say it—he couldn’t find the will to say it yet, and he didn’t say it for another year. But in that moment, Joey knew that their marriage was over.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Seto admitted to Joey. Seto looked up from where he was snuggled into Joey’s chest, eyes softer than Joey remembered them.

“Then don’t.”

Eventually they had shredded all of the wrappings and the kids were completely occupied with their gifts. Alexis was tearing open the booster packs and struggling her way through the more complex words on some of the cards. Atticus had his deck out, too, and he leaned over her shoulder and explained some of the text and card effects patiently.

Joey glanced over at Kaiba, who was smiling the same smile from Mokuba’s wedding photos.

“Remembering what it was like to be a big brother?” Joey prodded.

Kaiba nodded. “Things were rarely this peaceful, but when they were… I did not always know how to appreciate it.”

Joey reached a hand to Kaiba’s back and stroked over the soft cashmere of the black turtleneck reassuringly. “I wish things had been different too.” And Joey leaned his head onto Kaiba’s shoulder. “But they’re pretty good right now, huh?”

Kaiba nodded, hair shifting against Joey’s.

“I cannot promise that it will never happen again. But I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

#my fic #Violetshipping #puppyshipping #i mostly made this to just look at the header images and be happy #and also to have something nice and formal for my pinned post

26 notes · View notes

jovialyouthmusic · 4 years ago

Text

Double Trouble 1

This piece was originally part of a chapter of ‘Two’s Company’ but I’ve decided to take Bastien and Sophia out on their own series as they start their new family. It could fit into any of my AU fics - Two’s Company, Charlotte’s Choice and Protect and Serve. In each case, the ruling monarch is different.

Word Count 3184

A/N No warnings, all fluff unless you have issues with fertility, pregnancy, childbirth or medical settings.

The Twins Arrive

In the staff wing of the Palace in Cordonia, the sounds of the ball were a distant whisper of sound, unheard as the TV showed Sophia’s current bingeworthy period drama. She had stopped nitpicking the historical inaccuracies and dozed, the voices murmuring in the background. She smiled as the scene cut to a Regency ball in full swing.

‘Go on, admit you love her’ she mumbled, briefly surfacing to berate the male lead for not seeing what was under his nose. The female lead smiled, gazing into his eyes as they twirled and dipped. ‘So romantic’ she sniffled and reached for a tissue to dab at her eyes.

‘Hmmm?’ Bastien rumbled as he stirred in his easy chair, leg propped on a footstool as he sat vigil by his very pregnant wife’s side. Sophia laboured to sit up a little, and he got to his feet to help her, leg stiff from inaction.

‘Simon won’t admit he’s madly in love with Daphne’ she told him ‘and she’s so innocent she doesn’t realise he’s the man for her’ she sighed ‘I know, sentimental rubbish, but I can’t get enough’

‘Whatever makes you happy, theà mou’ Bastien smiled. He knelt by her side ‘May I?’ he asked, hand hovering over her bump. She nodded.

‘You had a large part to play in my current state.’ she grumbled ‘One of the tiddlers is using my bladder as a trampoline’ Bastien smiled, smoothing his hand over her belly. A little bump rose to meet his palm.

‘Not long till we meet them in person’ He stroked it, identifying it as a foot. ‘Come on little ones, Papa’s waiting and Mama’s tired’ He looked up at her ‘Shall I help you to the bathroom?’

‘Yes please, just let me pause this’ She pressed the button on the TV remote, and Bastien helped her to her feet. She groaned, hand in her lower back. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again’ she grumbled ‘Remind me not to do this again’ Bastien decided not to comment, as pregnancy hormones made his beloved somewhat cranky and he couldn’t think of an answer that she wouldn’t turn against him right now. She paused, grimacing with pain

‘Damn these Braxton Hicks’ she muttered, and he stroked her belly, feeling it harden under his hand, waiting until it softened again. She had been having contractions for a couple of days but the midwife had assured them it was nothing to worry about.

‘It’s fine, just practice for the real thing’ she had said briskly ‘Even with twins it’s quite normal. If they don’t subside within 48 hours, let me know’ They reached the door of the bathroom, where Sophia waved him away.

‘I can manage from here’ she snapped. He had removed the lock on the door in case of emergencies, and watched anxiously as she closed it behind her. ‘A little privacy please’ she called testily ‘I can hear you breathing’ He sighed and moved a little further away, the faint sound of her urination reaching him still. He knew he shouldn’t be so fearful about her wellbeing, but years of service on the Guard brought back memories of various emergencies involving impending childbirth. The Guard were the first line of assistance before medical staff could get to the Palace, and many other mansions he had served at were some distance from maternity facilities.

One notable example was seared into his brain when a noble lady had gone into labour miles out to sea on the Royal Yacht. He hadn’t been the only one to advise against the trip, but arrogance had won out over prudence and she had almost given birth before the air ambulance had winched her off the yacht. He was thankful the weather had been fair at the time.

He snapped back to the moment as he heard a little gasp. He stood up straight, straining his ears as a wail followed it.

‘Bas’ his wife called out, a hint of panic in her voice ‘Call the hospital – my waters just broke’

——-

At the hospital, Sophia was whisked away to be examined. Bastien was curtly told to wait, and paced the waiting room anxiously, massaging his hand from the pain of his wife clutching it fiercely on the drive over. Drake and Hana arrived to find him muttering curses against the doctors.

‘Calm down, Bas’ Drake had soothed ‘She’s in the best of hands’ Bastien glowered at him and straightened his shoulders.

‘She was supposed to see the midwife in the morning’ he growled ‘The risk with twins is elevated. I knew I should have insisted on an earlier appointment’

‘What exactly happened?’ Hana said, trying to ground him. He paused and ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it out of its usual neat quiff.

‘Her waters broke’ he said ‘The babies each have their own sac but share a placenta and need to be delivered at the same time. If they’re both head down it’s possible to do it without a caesarean’ Before anyone could ask anything else, a nurse appeared.

‘Mr Lykel?’ He stepped forward, placing his hand on her arm.

‘How is she? Can I see her?’

‘She’s very well, considering’ she said, removing his hand ‘You really should have come in earlier. With twins…’ She paled at Bastien’s expression as he glared at her.

‘Our midwife told us all was fine’ he ground out.

‘Well, no matter. She’s in labour and things seem to be moving quickly. Do you have a birth plan?’

‘We do’ he said, massaging his forehead and taking a deep breath ‘it’s filed here. Do you not have it?’ She looked flustered.

‘I think perhaps you should come through, if it’s what you’d planned’

‘It is. Take me to her now…’

Bastien entered the delivery room with trepidation. Sophia was flushed and sweaty, laying back in the bed in a loose hospital gown, her knees drawn up and a sheet covering her modesty. A midwife stood next to her and turned directly to meet him. Sophia lowered her knees and he could see the sensor strapped to the swell of her belly. A machine next to the bed monitored the babies’ heartbeats, and emitted a low whooshing noise.

‘Is this the babies’ father?’ the midwife asked brightly.

‘I am.’ He said curtly, going to Sophia’s side, taking her hand and kissing it.

‘I’m Sandy, and I’ll be looking after Mum and baby – that is, babies’ she smiled

‘Bas’ Sophia said faintly ‘Wherever have you been? You need to call Mum, let her know.’

‘I came in as soon as they said I could. There’s no need to call Edith just yet, she’ll only worry.’ Sophia gasped in pain, squeezing his hand with a deathlike grip and Sandy swiftly handed her a breathing tube.

‘Gas and air – entonox. It’s quite safe’ the midwife assured Bastien. By the time Bastien had nodded, the contraction was almost over, and Sophia collapsed back onto the pillows, her eyes a little glazed.

‘You do realise this is twins?’ Bastien queried ‘Shouldn’t there be more staff?’

‘We are very busy tonight, Mr Lykel. As soon as it’s necessary I’ll call for help’ She went to the end of the bed to examine Sophia.

‘You’re dilating nicely, Mrs Lykel. Not long and we’ll be asking you to push. Babies are doing fine and getting ready to come out and say hello.’

‘How are they positioned?’ Bastien asked.

‘Both are head down, so you can deliver naturally if you’d like, Mrs Lykel’

‘Sophia’ she said testily ‘my name’s Sophia. I’ll do my best but I’m not against pain relief’

‘Of course, Sophia. Do you know the sexes?’

‘Yes’ she smiled, and looked up at Bastien. ‘One of each’

‘Well, it’s hard to tell which one will be making an appearance first, but baby number two won’t be far behind’

‘Bas, can Hana come in?’ Sophia asked ‘We’re may need an extra pair of hands’ He looked at the midwife.

‘As it’s twins, two helpers are allowed in the delivery room as long as all is going smoothly’ At that moment a doctor entered with a clipboard.

‘Mr Lykel – apologies for the delay in finding your birth plan’ she said as Sandy ducked out of the room to fetch Hana. She looked down at the papers she held, scanning swiftly ‘I see you’ve opted for a natural birth if it’s possible, with minimal pain relief’. Sophia made a little moan in answer.

‘Do I have to do this twice?’

‘Don’t worry Mrs Lykel, the first delivery paves the way for the second. You’ll hardly notice baby number two’ Another contraction hit her, and she grabbed the breathing tube, gulping at it greedily. Her head rolled back onto the pillow as the contraction faded and she gazed up at Bastien, eyes glassy from the anaesthetic.

‘I’d like some Ben and Jerry’s right now. Phish food.’ He couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Maybe later, theà mou’ He lifted her hand and kissed it. Hana entered with the midwife and went to her side.

‘Hana, you came’ She smiled beatifically ‘You’ll be Auntie soon’

‘I can’t wait to meet your little ones’ Hana beamed excitedly.

‘Oh Hana, that’s so sweet of you’ Sophia winced as the midwife examined her again.

‘Once we get started, things might happen quite quickly’ she warned ‘After all, baby number two is going to want to catch up. At this point it’s too late for an epidural, but as things are going smoothly, Entonox should be sufficient’ Lucy looked startled

‘No epidural?’ she asked ‘Oh, fuck. Bas, what if it gets worse?’

‘Sophia, gas and air will be fine. Remember, it’s what we discussed, it’s safer in the majority of cases’ he soothed, earning a quizzical look.

‘Stop mansplaining, Bas. I’m thirsty’ she snapped, and the midwife took Bastien aside as Hana handed Sophia a cup of ice chips.

‘Don’t worry, Mr Lykel, Lucy’s going through transition. She’ll get very emotional. She may even get abusive. She’s fully dilated, so I’m going to call for assistance.’ He nodded knowingly. He’d done his research and was fully prepared for her to swear and curse and berate him for ever touching her. He knew it would be the hormones talking. He braced himself and went back to the bedside as the room suddenly became very busy with hospital staff. He focussed on Lucy as another contraction hit and she took great gulps of the gas and air again. This was a long one, and she lay back once it had ebbed away, moaning.

‘Whose idea was this?’ she moaned ‘It’s not natural’ Bastien bit his tongue, desperate to point out that it was in fact the most natural thing in the world to give birth – but he wasn’t the one suffering on the hospital bed. ‘I’m never doing this again’ she panted ‘you can forget sex, I’m staying celibate’ Bastien grinned uncomfortably, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the staff. Hana sniggered behind her hand ‘Is it time to push yet?’

‘Not just yet, Sophia’ Sandra assured her. ‘You’ll know when, but I’m here to help’ Sophia gasped as another contraction hit, and took the anaesthetic again. Bastien worried that she was taking too much as she collapsed back on the pillow, but kept his mouth shut, trusting the medical staff. Sophia turned to speak to him.

‘Bas, do you think we’re having twins because of your enormous – you know?’ she hissed, pointing to his groin in a stage whisper that carried right across the room. Hana giggled and reddened, and Sandy looked amused. Bastien coloured and cleared his throat, his smile turning to a grimace. ‘He does, you know, Sandra’ she said, motioning her closer ‘He’s – you know, very big down there. The sex is great. He’s got fantastic stamina.’ Sandra made a strangled noise.

‘I’ve never come across any correlation in size and fecundity or multiple births, Mrs Lykel’ she assured her, when she was able to speak. She took a calming breath, looking at the monitors. ‘Now, I want you to remember your birthing classes and prepare yourself to push’.

As promised, thing happened very quickly after that. Her next contraction hit hard, and Bastien lead her through her breathing, both elated and scared at the intensity of her experience. She was told to push, and he stayed with her, enduring her tight grip and murmuring words of encouragement. After each bout of pushing she lay back on the pillows, flushed and sweating, swearing that he’d never touch her again.

‘Mr Lykel, would you like to welcome baby? It’s very close now.’ Sandra said at last. He looked briefly at Sophia, torn between staying at her side and being the first to hold their child, but she nodded at him before the next onslaught. He moved down the bed as she strained and cried out with pain and effort, and was just in time to see the baby’s head emerge, followed by its shoulders. Sandra guided his hands so that he caught the warm slippery bundle. He was afraid of letting it slip, but managed to get a firm grip, and the midwife smiled triumphantly. Gazing down at the screwed up indignant face of his child, he felt an overwhelming wave of pure love and adoration unlike anything he had felt before. Time slowed and stopped as he held his own flesh and blood, his face softening into a broad smile. The little mouth opened and let out a roar of protest and rage, limbs flailing.

‘Papa has you, little one’ he crooned soothingly, knowing that first breath showed health and vigour.

‘Congratulations Mr and Mrs Lykel, your first baby is a healthy baby boy’ Sandra announced before handing him the instrument to cut the umbilical cord, and he carefully severed the connection. Briefly she wiped him clean as Bastien maintained his hold, the baby’s yell changing to wails in the unfamiliar environment. He shushed, and the little creature shuddered and quietened a little.

Sophia held out her arms eagerly and Bastien hurried to hand him over to place on her chest, wondering how long she would have before their little girl followed.

‘My little one’ she whispered, tenderly cradling him ‘We’re so thrilled to meet you at last’ She gazed down as the baby fell silent, arms folding over his chest and knees drawing up to meet them, face peaceful and enquiring. Hana sniffled beside her, and Sophia turned to the side. ‘Meet your Aunty Hana’ she breathed, before wincing in pain again. ‘I think your sister wants out’ she gasped, and a nurse swiftly took the baby and whisked him away.

‘Don’t worry, we just need to check him over, but I think he’s absolutely fine’ she assured Bastien.

‘Here’s your little girl’ Sandra called ‘Not long now’, and he went to stand ready, his hands trembling as a second head emerged, Sophia crying out again. She slipped out swiftly, but was safe in her father’s hands in an instant. He was hit by another wave of love and adoration just as intense as the last one, his heart full to bursting. Her cry was reedy and full of complaint and she wailed as he cut the cord, Sandra steadying it for Bastien to juggle his tasks. Both of the babies had seemed tiny in his large hands, both roomy and clumsy all at once.

‘Here, Papa has you safe’ he murmured ‘Come and meet your Mama’ Carefully he relayed her to Sophia. Her face glowed with happiness at holding her daughter, eyes fixed on her as she fussed at the bright light and unfamiliar surroundings.

‘My sweet one’ she crooned, and the baby quietened just as her brother had. ‘You’re perfect’. She looked up at her husband ‘Look what we did’ she whispered. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked down at the newest arrival, tiny fingers waving like starfish, little mouth opening and closing. He kissed the top of Sophia’s head.

‘Theà mou, I love you so much. I’m blessed’ his voice caught, and the nurse returned with the little boy, now wrapped up warmly, and took his sister away to be cleaned and checked. Sophia held her finger out and the baby gaped, little mouth gurning in a half yawn, half smile. Soon his sister was handed back and Sophia cradled one baby in each arm, looking from one to the other in awe. The boy had a shock of black hair like his father’s and his eyes were pale grey. His sister’s hair was black but not as abundant, her pale eyes a shade bluer.

‘How can I ever spend a single second not loving these two?’ she whispered ‘How can I feel so much love for them – and for you?’ Bastien squeezed her shoulder, unable to speak for the lump in his throat. He had never felt so deliriously happy – and scared.

‘Do you have names?’ the nurse asked ‘The babies’ tags just say boy and girl for now. There’s no hurry’ Sophia looked up at Bastien.

‘Theodore?’ she asked. They had a few names picked out but didn’t want to fix them until the babies were born. He nodded in approval, as they had also decided that she should finalise the boy’s name, and he the girl’s.

‘And Beatrice’ he replied, getting a little tilt of his wife’s head in response. He cleared his throat

‘Theodore Costa Lykel and Beatrice Edith Lykel’ he said clearly, the names floating up into the air like a declaration of existence, an acceptance into the world for the two babes. The boy’s second name was that of his foster father’s, the girl’s was Sophia’s mother’s. They could have been Theodore Robert and Beatrice Althea, or the first names might have been different, but as soon as he spoke them aloud they sounded right, and he knew Sophia agreed. She lay propped up, beaming with exhausted happiness as she held her new arrivals. She had never looked more beautiful, her damp hair curling to frame her face, cheeks rosy, and an expression of pure love and joy in her eyes. Sandra cleared her throat.

‘Sophia, we just have to check the placenta, clean you up and make sure all’s well. Perhaps Mr Lykel could take the babies, or we could put them in the cots.’

‘I can help’ Hana piped up, and Sophia nodded. Little Beatrice was closest to Hana, and carefully she took the little bundle, utterly entranced. Bastien took Theodore, making soothing noises as they awkwardly changed over.

‘Can we take them out to the waiting room?’ he asked ‘We’ll come straight back in when you’re ready’

‘Yes, but don’t hand them around’ the midwife answered. ‘New babies are still developing their immune systems, so the less contact with other people outside the family the better’

‘Take care’ Sophia urged ‘I’m not going anywhere’

‘We’ll be back soon, theà mou’ Bastien promised, and he and Hana walked out to the waiting room with his new family

@sirbeepsalot @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd @texaskitten30 @be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @fluffyfirewhiskey @rainbowsinthestorm @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01 @ibldw-main @addictedtodrakefanfic @trappedinfandoms @kingliam2019 @nomadics-stuff

#bastien lykel #Bastien x OC #trr bastien #sophia x bastien #bastien x sophia #double trouble

7 notes · View notes

allthingshetalia · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, can i have axis and allies reaction to his wife dad guilt tripping her even though she already left him due to him being violent and manipulative.. i just need some assurance during guarantine.. thx

I’m sorry bby

America

“What the fuck?” Your husband asked taking out all of the clothes you had just packed.

“Alfred stop!” You screeched ripping his tanned arm away from the suitcase. He gripped both of your hands tightly in his own and tugged you so your chest was against his. He looked down at you murderously and while deep down you knew he would never lay a hand on you it still freaked you out.

“Baby I love you so much but you are being stupid.” He stated. His hands squeezed around your wrists softly like he was trying to comfort you. Your eyes stung and you felt heavy tears push their way down your cheeks. He used the hand that wasn’t holding your wrist to wipe them away.

“He’s my father.” You mumbled pitifully. He nodded his head in understanding and let go of your wrists. He sat down on the bed and gently pulled you down so you were sitting on his lap with your back against his chest.

“He’s also a man who has beaten you.” He sighed. “Do you remember how long it took you to stop flinching every time I moved. We would be cuddled up on the couch and I would move to get comfortable and you would jump 10 feet in the air.” He said. You felt his arm muscles bulge as he remembered how messed up you were after living with your father. “And if you think I’m going to let you go back to that shithole you are absolutely insane.”

England

As soon as he saw the caller ID on your phone he quickly snatched it out of your hands and pressed the decline button.

“He’s been calling you again?” His green eyes were on fire and he shut off the TV so he could turn and look at you. You nodded your head and looked at Arthur with worried eyes. He groaned in annoyance and softly pulled your form against his side kissing the top of your head tenderly. “Don’t listen to anything he has ever told you or anything he could possibly say to you in the future. Know your worth my love.”

France

“He scares me.” You mumbled. Your lover nodded and tucked your head under his chin. His broad shoulders and thick arms reminding you that you were safe and protected.

“Has he been calling you? Texting you?” He asked. You nodded your head and reached over to the nightstand and pulled out your phone handing it to him.

“12 missed calls and 42 messages.” He read aloud. You didn’t dare to look at the messages. Francis stared at your phone for a minute and brought his index finger to tap the screen. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him handle the phone like an old man. “He’s blocked. If you ever for some odd reason need to get in contact with him I know I have the number written down in my office somewhere.” He soothed. He looked down at your sleepy form on his chest and shot you a tired, loving smile.

Russia

“I can handle this two ways”-

“The one where he doesn’t get hurt.” You stated quickly cutting your husband off. You paced back and fourth in your big cozy bedroom while your husband watched you with worried eyes. Nodding his head he reached out his arm and wrapped it around you stopping your pacing. Picking you up he set you on his lap.

“As you wish my little flower.” He grumbled playfully. His lips pressed themselves tightly to the top of your head. “I’ll keep an eye out for him- more than I usually do. I know you don’t want to completely cut off contact but if he starts pulling that same crap again he’s gonna get blocked.” He stated. You could hear his heart rate pick up as you pressed your head against his chest. You hummed in agreement.

China

“Whatever you want to do I support you.” He soothed. His long fingers massaged at your head that way in his lap.

“I think I should just cut of contact with him.” You mumbled. A hot tear ran down your cheek causing a small wet spot on his thigh.

“I think that’s for the best. Grab your phone, We’ll do it together.” He shushed running a hand up and down your back. You sat up and gripped your phone with shaky hands. Leaning back against him you quickly typed in your password and went to your settings, going under messages and pressing block. Clicking add new you hastily searched through your contacts and found your dads number. “You sure you want to do this.” Yao asked leaning his head against yours.

Without hesitating you pressed the block button and enjoyed the feeling of the weight leaving your shoulder.

Canada

Honestly same as France

Italy

Same as China

Japan

Hands gently pressed your head against his chest as he rocked you back and fourth.

“It feels so good to actually cut off contact with him but can’t help but feel sad. Why am so sad?” You ached out nuzzling deeper into your husbands chest. His shirt was now fully soaked with tears but he could care less.

“Because It’s almost like a death. Actually It can be worse than a death. You lost someone who caused you so much pain but also was close to you.” He reasoned. Your sobs slowly died down as you nodded your head against him.

“That makes sense.” You mumbled grabbing a tissue. You face and throat was sore and your head throbbed in your chest.

“Now It’s time to get some sleep and when we wake up in the morning You’ll feel better. I promise.”

Germany

“I don’t like this.” He mumbled. He took off his glasses and set your phone down next to him. You were sitting on the floor in front of him. Putting his elbows against his knees he ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. Leaning forward he planted a soft gentle kiss against your forehead. While he was at a meeting you had a conversation with your father over text and as soon as Ludwig got home you threw you phone at him with a tear stained face.

“What should I do?” You asked resting your chin on his knee. You needed to feel safe and cared for. Your head has just been through a whirlwind and the harsh pounding made it practically impossible for your to come up with a thought. He grabbed your face your both of his hands and pressed your forehead against his.

“I won’t let things go back the the way they were before me. I made a vow to protect you. I made that vow in front of a whole audience wedding and to myself. And if I let him creep back in I wouldn’t be doing that.” The look in his eye and his words made more tears fall from your sore eyes. “How about we cut of contact with him for a couple of days and see how you feel and we can go from there?” he asked. You sighed in relief and nodded grabbing your phone from beside him.

Prussia

same as Germany

Romano

“DON’T YOU EVER CALL HER AGAIN!” Lovino shouted. His voice boomed down the hallways and you had to cover your ears. You vaguely heard the sound of your father shouting back before Lovino pressed the end call button. You closed your eyes and clenched them just wanting to fall into a sleep. Arms wrapped themselves around you and you sank to the floor with him. Light sobs wracked your body and his hands ran over your trying to soothe what heartache he could.

#america hetalia #england hetalia #france hetalia #russiahetalia #china hetalia #canada hetalia #italy hetalia #japan hetalia #germany hetalia #romano hetalia #prussia hetalia #x reader #hetalia blog #hetalia imagine blog #requests

145 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

Text

Stark Spangled Banner: Stab Me In The Front

Part 1: America’s Asshole

What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Bad language. SMUT (NSWFW)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Square Filled : “Mistaken Identity” @avengersbingo A/N: So, here we go. An Avengers/Knives Out Cross Over where Katie and Steve come face to face with America’s Asshole! The tongues are sharp and the knives are out! This is set in 2015 so way before the KO storyline so therefore contains no spoilers! You don’t need to have read SSM to understand or enjoy but please do so if you wish.

Main Masterlist

**Shout out to @icanfeelastormbrewing for being my Insult Partner when I was writing this!!**

PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG and COMMENT, This is probably my fave part of this fic I’ve written to date!!

October 2015

“So, Mr Thrombey, that’s all confirmed.” Katie said, tapping at a key on her computer to lock the meeting in her calendar “11 am, Next Thursday, the 15th ”

“Thank you.” Katie smiled as she spoke into her phone, “I look forward to meeting you on Thursday Sir.”

“Oh, less of the Sir, Harlan please. And the pleasure is all mine Miss Stark…I mean, Mrs Rogers, my apologies!” The man chuckled “And thank you for accommodating my need to pull this meeting forward by a few days.”

“It’s not a problem.” she assured him. They exchanged pleasantries again and then she cut the call and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck, before she double checked the travel arrangements. The hotel was booked, flight was sorted, hire care was confirmed. All that she needed to do was not forget the annotated manuscript or the cover ideas.

The door to her office opened and she looked up to see Tony leaning in the doorway, waving a Starbucks cup at her one of their familiar brown paper bags, clearly bearing treats.

“I love you bro…” she smiled at him as he wandered in, chuckling, placing the drink and paper bag down in front of her. She looked into the bag and gave a moan when she saw it was a rather large, gooey looking brownie, and gave a bigger moan when she sipped her drink and found it to be a Pumpkin Spiced Latte. “Perfect Elevenses!”

“Well thought you might need one, you’ve been locked in here since 7 this morning…”

“You got FRIDAY spying on me?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“No.” he said at the same time the AI affirmed her suspicions.

“He has indeed had me watch you, Mrs Rogers.” “Traitor.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie chuckled

“Well I had all this Harlan Thrombey stuff to sort, Steve’s still in Copenhagen with Sam chasing the alleged latest sighing of Bucky.” she shrugged “Not much point in lying in when you’re wide awake is there?”

“True.” Tony nodded. “Are you going back to the Compound tonight?”

“I dunno.” she shrugged “I might just stay here again if that’s ok?”

“Kiddo, you own part of this Tower, it’s always gonna be your home too.” Tony shrugged, “You can stay as long as you want.”

“I haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is.” Tony said gently, looking at her.

“Funnily enough me neither.” she sighed “I should be celebrating, a year to the day Bucky broke me out of that fucking shit hole in Canada.” she pulled off her glasses, another remnant of her time with HYDRA. Since she’d been kept for 6 weeks in that horrific cell she’d needed glasses for anything that required a long period of concentration on a computer screen or monitor if she wanted to avoid migraines. Bruce seemed to think it was something to do with the fact that her cell had been painfully bright all the time and that continued exposure to artificial light in such a way triggered a subconscious response.

She swallowed “I’ve been trying not to think about it.” she said gently.

“Which is why I booked you and Pepper into the Dominick for the afternoon.” he smiled at her “Well, Pepper has, I’ve just given her the credit card…full deep tissue massage, facial and then Franco’s booked to do your hair…and don’t bother telling me you’re busy as I had your diary cleared and everything reschedule to next week” he watched as she opened her mouth before shutting it,, shaking her head softly. “You leave in 30 minutes.”

“You spoil me.” she smiled softly.

“Anything for my girls, plus I thought it might keep you busy whilst Spangles is otherwise engaged.”

“He was hoping to be back but when I spoke to him before he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be.” she shrugged “it is what it is.” Tony smiled at her before he stood up “Yes, it is. And this afternoon is your pamper time so get your shit together and meet Pepper downstairs.”

“Yes sir.” she said, saluting him with a grin.

As with anything Pepper or Tony booked, the spa was off the scale. Katie had been meaning to go for ages, and now, as she sat in the chair in Franco’s salon she was already searching available dates to go back with Natasha and Wanda. She laughed and joked with the stylist and Pepper, the pair of them enjoying yet another bottle of champagne as they had their hair done. A couple of hours later, at just gone 7pm, Pepper dragged her out over the road and into a ridiculously expensive wine bar.

“Feeling better?” Pepper asked as Katie took a huge gulp of her Sancerre.

Katie smiled “Much, thank you.” “You know, I’m always here if you want to talk to someone other than Steve about stuff.” Pepper looked at her “And it won’t go any further.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t wanna talk about it…” Katie sighed “You know, Pep, I see all these women out there, read their testimonies and things and I just wonder how they’re so strong, like, how can they can just stand up and talk about what happened to them?” she trailed off, shaking her head “And me? I just wanna pretend it never happened. So much for being an Avenger huh?”

“Hey…” Pepper shook her head, looking at her sternly. “Stop that, right now.” “Well it’s true.” Katie shrugged “I mean, I’m a public figure right? But all people know is I was missing for 6 weeks, but it was put down to a mission gone awry. I just..well, I feel like I should be out there, trying to make a difference, helping people.”

“Kiddo, what you went through…” Pepper swallowed “I can’t even begin to imagine. And how you’ve dealt with and processed it, well, frankly I don’t know how you’ve been so strong. There is no shame in wanting to simply move on and leave it in the past.”

“I know.” Katie said softly “Thank you. Having everyone around me makes me realise how lucky I actually am. I’ve got a huge support network. Not everyone who goes through...” she swallowed, not quite able to say it “not everyone has that to fall back on.” Pepper pondered something before she looked at Katie, “You know, we haven’t picked our Partner Charity for the Stark Relief Fund next year…we could make it one that deals with Sexual violence. No need to go into details as to why.” Katie considered that for a moment, before she nodded “That’s not a bad idea.” she clicked her nails against her wine glass, thoughtfully “It would make a difference, right?”

Pepper nodded. “Absolutely. Give it some thought, see how you feel.” “I will, thanks.” she smiled.

****

“Good Evening Captain Rogers…” FRIDAY greeted him as he pressed his palm to the access pad at the rear entrance from the underground car park “Mrs Rogers is in your apartment.”

“Thanks FRIDAY.” he said, as the elevator began to rise. It stopped a few floors up, and when the doors flew open he was greeted by Tony who was undoing his tie.

“Oh, you’re back.” he said, looking at Steve appraisingly.

“You’re up late.” Steve looked at him.

“Just working on a few things.” Tony said vaguely. “How was the search for Tin Man?” “Well, it was him alright.” Steve said, running a hand down his tired face “Few more leads to work on. We could have stayed out there for a bit longer truth be told but, well, I wanted to be here tomorrow, you know.” Steve said, shrugging.

The two men shared a moment of understanding, both of them having experienced unsurmountable raw pain and anguish over the 6 weeks Katie had been missing and it wasn’t something they were likely to forget any time soon. If ever.

“She know you’re home?” Tony looked at him again. Steve shook his head.

“Wanted to surprise her.”

Tony smiled softly, “She’s probably asleep. Her and Pep have been in the Spa all afternoon and they’ve drunk a lot so…”

Steve gave a huff of a laugh “Yeah she messaged me before saying you’d sent her there out for the afternoon. That was really thoughtful of you Tony.” “Well it happens occasionally.” Tony said as the elevator stopped at his floor. “Listen, Steve…”

Steve turned to face him.

“She’s not been herself the last few weeks.” Tony scratched at his beard and Steve took a deep breath.

“I know.” he said gently “I think she’s just, well, processing, if that’s the right word. We only got back from our honeymoon 3 weeks and it kinda hit her when we got back just what time of year it was. Whilst we were away she didn’t have time to think about it.”

“Just…well, take care of her for me ok?” Tony said, looking at the Soldier.

Steve nodded “Always Tony, you had my word on that when I told you I wanted to marry her, and I meant it.”

Tony nodded and clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look of thanks before he left the elevator on the Part Floor level. It began to rise again and Steve let out a soft sigh. Tony was right, the last 2 weeks in particular Katie had been a little quiet, less vivacious, almost withdrawn even. At first he had put it down to post honeymoon blues but Natasha had pointed out that this time 12 months ago she had been at the mercy of Hydra, with those bastards brutalising her in ways that he couldn’t even bring himself to think about. For this reason, he’d been reticent to go on the latest mission but Katie had insisted, pointing out that they couldn’t not carry on with their lives and that she would be alright.

The fact she had basically moved back into the Tower for the 3 days he had been gone, however, made him think that she wasn’t quite as alright as she had told him.

“Hey sweetheart.” he said softly, kissing her again, his hand cupping her face.

“You’re home.” she said, reaching up to lay her hand over his. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

“Wanted to surprise you.” he smiled.

“Well it worked.”

“I missed you.” he said softly, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.

“Missed you more.” she shot back and he chuckled.

“Doubt it. How was the Spa?”

“Oh it was amazing.” she gushed, her eyes shining “I had this deep tissue massage and the guy hit spots on my back I didn’t even know I had. The facial was great, and my hair…”

“I like the colour.” he said smiling, gently moving his hand so he twirled a piece around his finger. The ends were slightly lighter than usual, almost a dark honey blonde, and it extended a little up the strands before evening out.

“It’s called ballayage.” she smiled at him. “I just fancied a bit of a change.”

“Looks good on you.” he smiled “I’m glad you had a nice time, you deserve it.”

“How was the mission?” she asked “Worth it?”

“Yes and no.” he shrugged “We have a few more leads we can chase up but…” he took a deep breath “I’m beginning to wonder what the point is. He clearly doesn’t wanna be found.”

“The point is he’s your friend, your brother.” Katie smiled, moving her hand to run her fingers over his jawline, the pads scratchings lightly against his 5-oclock shadow. “Maybe he just needs a bit of time to find himself first, that doesn’t mean you have to give up on him. Besides, I need to give him back his jacket.”

“And I need to thank him.” Steve said, “For getting my beautiful girl out and safe.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year tomorrow since he found me.” she said softly

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“The last few weeks you’ve not been yourself.”

She licked her lips and nodded “Yeah, I just…well, I didn’t give it much thought when we were on our honeymoon, you know, but since coming back and ramping up the Thrombey Campaign it’s kinda hit home a little.” And suddenly Steve understood. SIP were publishing the man’s latest book, “The Colour of Revenge” which was all about a Detective on the trail of a killer who was hunting down and dispatching of 6 men who had been acquitted of a gang rape and murder.

“Shit…” he let out a groan “Honey I…I’m so stupid not to realise that…” “Hey.”she frowned, “Don’t…” She reached up and smoothed the lines that had appeared on his brow and he let out a sigh, gently reaching up to lace his fingers with hers, bringing her hand towards him and placing a soft kiss on her wrist.

“It’s better now you’re home.” she said gently. He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss again.

“Is that everything?” he pressed and she hesitated again.

“I’m scared.” she said eventually, looking at him.

“Scared of what?”

“Going away, on my own.” she sighed, tears brimming in her eyes “I hate that they made me like this Steve.”

He let out a sigh, he hated that she was scared too. She didn’t deserve it.

“Why don’t I come with you?” he asked, the idea suddenly forming in his mind. She stilled for a moment and he continued “Not to the actual meeting, but I can drop you off and pick you up, hang around, whatever you want me to do.”

She looked up at him smiling softly, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t relieved he had offered. “Would you?”

“Of course.” he nodded, wiping the tears off her face. “You only had to ask.” “I didn’t want to.” she admitted “I know how busy you are here and…” “That can wait.” he said, holding her face in his hands as he drove his message home “you’re the most important thing in my life and if me coming with you makes you feel better then…” he shrugged “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go to Boston.”

“We can make a little trip out of it if you like?” she said, somewhat hopefully “Come back on the Saturday?”

“Sure.” he smiled at her. “Let’s do it.”

“Oh Stevie you’re gonna love it.” she beamed, and he smiled at the way her face had gone from being furrowed with worry to alive with excitement. “Massachusetts is amazing in the fall and Boston is just stunning…” “Well I’ll make sure I bring my sketch book.” he smiled “Give me something to do whilst you’re in the meeting.” “Thank you.” she said softly. “I’ll book us somewhere nice to eat one night. Give us an excuse to wear something pretty.”

“Like you need an excuse.” he teased, and she nipped him harshly on the arm. He chuckled and then with a groan he unwillingly pushed himself up off the bed.

“I need a shower.” he said, almost apologetically. “I won’t be long.”

“You better not be.” she muttered and he smiled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before he headed into the bathroom.

True to his word, he wasn’t long. 5 minutes, tops. But by the time he came back, the TV was off and Katie was fast asleep. Thinking back to what Tony had said, he found himself wondering if she had actually slept much at all whilst he was gone.

****

And Steve was quite happy to let her nap for longer, using him as her own personal cuddly toy.

He dozed in and out of consciousness again, drifting off for another 10 minutes or so, before he felt Katie stirring in his arms, and a soft kiss gently being pressed to his jaw line. He smiled at the contact and tightened his hold on her again, his eyes still closed.

“Morning beautiful.” he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning soldier.” she said, her cheek returning to his chest as she basked in the safety and warmth of his hold as his hand crept up the back of the stolen shirt she was wearing, his rough fingers ever so gentle against her skin as he trailed the pads up and down her spine.

“Sleep ok?” he asked, his eyes still not opening.

“Yeah.” she assured him, truthfully. It had been the best night sleep she’d had in days.

“Good. What do you fancy doing today?”

He felt her still and then she pulled back slightly, and at that he opened his eyes and blinked to see those gorgeous emeralds locked onto him.

“Are you not needed at the Compound?”

He shook his head “Kitten, I’ve not seen you for almost 3 days so I figured we deserved one together.”

She groaned “I have meetings this morning.” “That’s ok, I’ll meet you at lunch.” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She didn’t argue. She knew full well why he’d taken the time out, and frankly she adored him for it. Without saying a word she leaned up and captured his lips in a gentle kiss that quickly became heated…but was shattered by the piercing noise of Katie’s alarm.

She gave a groan, and made to move.

“Don’t you dare…” Steve mumbled against her mouth, his grip on her tightening.

“Stevie…” she sighed “I gotta…”

He reached over, his large body flattening her into the mattress making her giggle as he swiped across the screen of her StarkPhone silencing it.

“You ain’t gotta do shit…” he said, hovering over her on his elbows. “Except me.” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh so you’re gonna to explain to the board why I’m late?” she looked at him.

“To be honest...” he said, dipping his head to trail hot kisses up the side of the next “...they probably won’t even notice you’re not there. I mean, are you really that important?”

“Fuck you.” she giggled back.

“Believe me, I’m tryin’” he quipped, his mouth nipping at her ear lobe. That made her giggle even more and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin.

“I love it when you do that.” he said gently, using his leg to part hers, leaving a large thigh pressed against her mound.

“What?”

“Laugh.” he said, his mouth moving up her jaw line “Makes me happy.”

“You’re such a sentimental sap.” she mumbled, as his lips claimed hers again, the heat between her legs intensifying as the kiss grew deeper, tongues lashing against one another. Steve pulled back for long enough to pull his shirt over her head before his lips returned to hers and Katie’s hand slid into his hair, one hand gently winding into the longer locks on top, her nails on the other dragging against the hairline on his neck. His hands moved, one gently cupping the side of her face, the other, gently skimming over her breast, her nipples already hardened. He gently teased one with the pad of his thumb and his mouth moved down to the other, his tongue and lips working in tandem. She gave a little involuntary twitch against his thigh and once more his lips quirked up into a smirk.

“You want something baby girl?” he asked, peeking up at her and she nodded.

“Stevie, don’t make me beg, please.”

And when she asked so nicely like that, how could he ever refuse? He hooked his fingers into the sleep shorts she was wearing and worked them down, before flipping down the waist band of his boxers. Katie bent her legs, as he shuffled upwards and worked into her, the pair of them letting out a groan each at the contact. Steve’s hands fell to either side of Katie’s face as he held himself up on his forearms, kissing her deeply as he flexed his hips forward, again and again, picking up a gentle rhythm.

It was soft, it was gentle, it was loving, everything she knew her soldier to be and it wasn’t long before he had her writhing and groaning loudly, his lips assaulting that spot on her neck.

“So good…” he groaned, his thrusts getting deeper. “Feel so good kitten…”

“Keep talking.” she keened, arching into him as her hands raked down his back.

“You were made for me, God I love you Mrs Rogers. So fucking much…” he said, his words punctuated by his heavy breaths as she gave a soft cry, her head falling backwards, eyes fluttering shut as she tightened around him, her legs shuddering slightly as she came.

“Atta girl.” he said, his hips becoming faster as he thrust through her orgasm, chasing his own. It wasn’t long before he felt the ribbons in his belly unravel and he came with a cry of his own, his head buried in her neck, hips slowing, thrusts going deeper before he eventually stilled, a loud contented sigh escaping his mouth.

After a few moments of them simply basking in the afterglow, Katie’s hands trailing through Steve’s ruffled hair as his nose slid against hers, she gave a sigh and pushed on his shoulders gently.

“Baby I really do need to get up.”

The idea had sprung to Katie as she’d headed out for lunch. The local shop was donating a percentage of its earnings that month to a homeless charity, and it set her mind whirring.

“So you want to donate, all the profit we make, from what is going to likely be the biggest book SIP will ever publish, to charity?” Tony looked at her.

“In a nutshell, yeah.” she said, nodding “We can split it across various charities, all those that help victims of sexual assault, abuse or crime…”

“Isn’t that what the Stark Relief Fund is for?” Saul, the SI Finance Director looked at her, and she nodded.

“Yes, but it isn’t just about the money…it’s about raising awareness.” she pressed “A lot of people don’t know those charities existed. Hell, I didn’t know about half of them until a year ago. If we do this, think of the publicity and the press and…”

He shrugged and looked round the table “SIP’s vision was never about making money.” he said, and Katie beamed at her brother as she realised he was backing her “It was always about helping those who needed a hand to get their work out there…I don’t see why in this case, where they author is already so well-known we can’t use that to help those who need it.”

There was a pause and she looked expectantly round the table. One by one the board members seemed to concede, all of them that is bar their Legal Manager, Dan Robertson who was frowning.

“You’re going to have to bring Mr Thrombey on board Mrs Rogers.” he said, looking at her. “We can’t just use his book as part of a campaign without his permission.” “I know.” she said, nodding. “I’ve already realised that. I’m meeting him on Thursday next week, I’ll have a full proposal and pitch ready.”

There were a few murmurs around the table before Tony spoke “Is that it? Are we settled?”

Everyone looked at one another, nodding, and Katie leaned back in her chair, smiling.

But, she wasn’t smiling now. She had less than 24 hours before they set off for Boston and her pitch was only half way through completion.

“I know but…” She sighed, “This means a lot to me Steve…I need it to be right.”

Steve knew better than to argue. Instead he leaned over and kissed the side of her neck. “What are you stuck with?”

“I dunno it just…it all seems so impersonal.” she removed her glasses and wrinkled her nose as he sat down in the arm chair in the corner of the room “Facts and figures on sexual assaults and stuff…we all know it happens, it’s about making people want to do something about it.”

“Are you ready to make it personal?” he asked gently, taking a deep breath. He hated thinking about what she had gone through, he truly did, and if he had half a chance he’d rip the bastards limb from limb. But if she was ready to confront what had happened to her, he had to be there to support and back her all of the way, regardless of his own feelings.

“I don’t know.” she said softly “I was talking to Pepper about this the other day. I should be able to, I should be someone other women can look up to, being an Avenger and all but…maybe I’m just not strong enough.” “You’re the strongest person I know.” he leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

“I don’t feel like it when it comes to this.” she sighed.

“Honey…” he scratched at his head “Without wanting to sound flippant, since January this year, you’ve been, ok…well maybe ok isn’t the word but you’ve gotten on with things. You’ve moved forward, we both did.”

“Because we were busy, and we had no choice…”

“Well maybe…” he shrugged “But chasing down a sceptre, fighting Ultron, mobilising a new base, planning a wedding, running a business…it’s all time consuming, stressful stuff that if you really weren’t strong enough to deal with what happened, then it would have all gone to shit and probably tipped you over the edge into a nervous breakdown.”

She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she considered what he was saying.

She smiled softly and looked down at her hands before she glanced back up at him “When did you get so wise?” He chuckled “Well I am 97 years old.”

She laughed “You don’t look a day over 28.”

He smiled and stood up “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, and you’re gonna stop overthinking that and come relax, we’re up early tomorrow. You can do the rest at the hotel tomorrow evening.” “No can do, we’re going out.” she grinned at him “I booked the Chef’s table at Menton…”

“The what?” Steve frowned.

“You never heard of a Chef’s table?” she looked at him, and he shook his head “oh my God I’ve let you down…so badly. Check this out.” she tapped on her computer, bringing up the website and showed him the photos “It’s a private table with a glass wall that gives you a direct view into the kitchen. Totally impossible to get a reservation unless you book like a year in advance…or name drop.”

Steve groaned “You seriously dropped the Captain America wants a table line?”

“Yup” she popped the p as she smirked, closing down the browser page.

“Pain in my ass.” he grumbled, standing up. But as he left the office there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

One that his wife had seen.

*****

“So, was it worth a name drop?” Katie asked as they walked back into the Fireside Lounge located in their hotel.

“I’m happy to overlook the fact you acted like a total brat to make that reservation, yes.” he grinned as he went to remove her coat from her shoulders. He looked her up and down, the jump suit she was in was driving him crazy.

She grinned, and shivered slightly.

“Cold?” he asked, frowning.

“A little, don’t wanna sit in my coat though.”

“Do you want me to nip up to the room, grab your cardigan?”

“Would you?” she asked, even though she knew perfectly well he would.

“Course.” he said, dropping a kiss to her cheek “You get the drinks in, be right back.”

She headed over to the bar. The bartender, Will, was the same one who had been on before so he greeted her with a smile.

“Mrs Rogers. How was your meal?”

“Fantastic thank you.” she grinned “Can I get 2 Bourbon’s please? I’ll leave it to your choice, I’ll be back in a second, just need to nip to the bathroom.”

She excused herself and once she’d finally had the pee she’d been dying for since they left the restaurant, she set about touching up her make-up, smiling to herself. She’d deliberately picked this jumpsuit as she knew it got Steve’s blood pumping. It was a simple, plain black one with a V-neck line, but it was tight. Teamed with a thin red leather belt, red leather Jimmy-Choos and a matching bag all set off by the bright red lipstick she was sporting, she knew she looked good. Not that Steve had much room to talk, she could happily perve on him in the dark grey suit he was wearing, teamed with a black dress shirt, his collar left open…he looked good enough to eat, which she was planning on doing later.

She headed back into the bar and spotted Steve perched on one of the stools.

“Hey handsome” she said, slipping her arms round him from the back. But the moment she did that she realised something was off. He felt different, he was softer than Steve was. He smelt different, there was a really heavy woody scent to his aftershave whereas Steve’s preferred Hugo Boss or Gucci, depending on his mood, were both a lot lighter. And when the man spun to face her, although the likeness was indeed uncanny at first glance, his eyes were cold and calculating, his jaw line wasn’t quite as sharp as Steve’s and the smirk he wore on his face was nothing like the cheeky one Steve would sport. It was almost a sneer which spread across his face, every feature laced with disdain.

“What the fuck?” the man glared at her as Katie stepped back, holding her hands up in apology.

“I’m sorry, genuine case of mistaken identity…” she said, taking him in. His shirt was the wrong colour too, only she hadn’t been able to see that from the back.

“Yeah well if you’re touting for business I already got some today so get lost…” the man drawled in his light, Boston accent. “Like I just said I thought you were…hang on…” She frowned as his words registered “You already got some?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” he said, looking her up and down.

“You think I’m a hooker?” Katie snorted.

“Pretty high end one though, I’ll give you that.” the man said, nodding at her.

“I’m not a hooker.” she shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“Oh, sorry. Do you prefer the term escort?” he raised an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes, flashing her left hand at him. “I’m married, this was a genuine mistake….” she said, her temper rising slightly. She moved away from him to the side, nodding at Will who slid the check over for her to sign to charge the drinks to their room.

Ransom observed her for a moment, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break across his face. After another row with his stupid Libtard cousin and his mother who had been at his Grandfather’s house before, he’d come out with the sole intention of getting laid and then so drunk he could hardly remember his name. After a visit to one of his usual fuck buddies he’d achieved the first part, now he was concentrating on the second. He’d been initially irritated by this woman’s interruption, but now she was getting sassy back, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He could tell she had money, that much was clear to see. The way she talked, held herself, was dressed. Whilst she wasn’t a hooker as he had originally thought (although to be fair to her, she was pretty hot, he’d consider fucking her if the opportunity arose) she was probably living off some 70 odd year old rich banker husband. A trophy wife. Huh, maybe she wanted a fuck after all…hell, he might not have to pay for it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

“And does your husband know you’re here trying to tap me up?” he looked at her.

“You know, if I was trying to errr…tap you up, you wouldn’t be able to afford me” she shot back, signing her name on the cheque with a flourish.

“Try me.” Ransom shot back, making a show of looking her up and down. “How much for that ass?” “I’ll kick yours for free you self entitled dick.” she said, sliding the signed paper and pen back to the bartender.

Ransom gave a bark of a laugh “I’ll pass thanks.”

Katie snorted and glanced sideways at look at him, scarlet red lips pursed as she eyed him over her glass of bourbon. “Good decision, because I’ve dropped bigger men than you for fun.” “Sure you have Dollface” Ransom quirked an eyebrow, elbow leaning on the bar, angling his body towards her. She kept hers facing forwards, arms resting on the bar top, her head shaking slightly.

“Why should I?” he snorted “I don’t know all the little bitches in Boston.”

She felt her mouth drop open and she was about to retaliate when Steve gently appeared by her side, dropping her cardigan over her shoulders.

Ransom recognised him straight away. He’d had it quite often, been told he looked similar to Captain America. So this meant the woman he’d been baiting for the last 5 minutes was his wife, Katie Rogers, sister of Billionaire Tony Stark, the Avenger, Supernova.

He’d called Supernova a hooker.

Ransom looked into his glass of scotch, turning away back to the bar, snorting with laughter.

“Sorry baby, Sam called and…” Steve stopped, frowning at the look on Katie’s face. “You ok?”

“Fine.” she said, looking up at him, smiling and nodding towards a cosy sofa over at the other side of the bar. “You wanna go sit down over there?”

“Sure.” he said, picking up his glass of bourbon he held out his free hand for her and she jumped down off the stool.

“I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure.” She snarked to the man next to her “But I don’t lie so…”

“Pal, you should keep that bitch on a leash.” Ransom spoke, his eyebrows raising and in front of him Steve stiffened.

“What did you just say?” he frowned, pulling himself up to full height.

“Seriously, man. You save the world from Nazi’s, get frozen for 70 years and then end up marrying that.” Ransom smirked, enjoying baiting the Captain “I’d ask ‘em to put you back under…”

Steve’s nostrils flared and he felt his neck getting warmer. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that...”

“Steve, leave it, come on.” Katie said gently, patting Steve on the chest “The guy’s a complete ass hole. If brains were dynamite I doubt he’d have enough to blow his head off.”

“Well if we’re talking about blowing...” Ransom looked Katie up and down before locking onto her eyes. “You up for the job?

Katie let out a bark of a laugh, her hand still on Steve’s chest which was positively humming with anger as she turned to face Ransom, contempt etched across every single inch of her face.

“Go jerk yourself off and wipe it on a curtain like your father should have done with you.” she said.

“I’d rather wipe it in your hair.” came the quip back.

And that was it. That was the point that Steve Rogers snapped.

“Steve!” she said, pulling on his arm. “Baby he really isn’t worth it, let go!”

“Captain Rogers!” Will behind the bar was desperately trying to talk him down as well “Please, don’t make me call security.”

Security! Steve wanted to snort. Like that would do any good.

“Baby, come on…” Katie tried again, pleading to his reasonable side. “Look, we’ve had such a nice night. Don’t let him ruin it.”

“I would tell you to apologise.” Steve snarled stepping back. His voice was steely, eyes carrying none of their usual warmth “But I suspect it’s pointless”

“Yup.” Ransom nodded “Totally pointless.”

Ransom’s nostrils flashed angrily as he looked at the man “’I’m gonna be banned? Eat shit, he’s the one that just attacked me! He ripped my shirt!” he gestured down to where Steve had grabbed him, two tears either side of the buttons of his shirt “This is a Fendi!”

“Ransom, just shut up and apologise.” Will pressed again, “Or you’re gonna have to leave.”

Katie rolled her eyes, deciding to let him have that childish one without any fuss. But Steve didn’t.

“Sorry.” Steve turned, apologising to Will.

“He’s a dirt bag and a cretin.” Will shrugged, as he waved the apology off. “No redeeming features whatsoever. Well, none that I’ve seen and trust me, I’ve seen him a hell of a lot.”

“Is your hand ok?” Katie asked Steve gently. She turned his right hand over to see that there were no cuts at all from the glass, which was good.

“Yeah, fine, don’t worry.” Steve looked at her, frowning. “Honey, what on Earth just happened?” he asked her softly, as she took a deep breath, blowing it out of her mouth.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came back, well, I thought he was was you from behind so gave him a hug.” she shook her head “Soon as I touched him I realised I was very, very wrong. I tried to apologise and he called me a hooker.”

“A hooker?” Steve repeated, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I told him even if I was he wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

At that Will, who had been busy pouring them both another drink, laughed as he slid 2 short tumblers of bourbon back over to them. “He won’t have liked that at all.”

Steve nodded his thanks to the man as Katie looked at him. “How come?” she asked.

“Well, Ransom’s mother likes to claim she’s a self-made millionaire. Fails to mention the million dollar loan her dad gave her to start up her business like, but that’s by the by. Simply put, his family one way or another are loaded, and Ransom likes to be the flash bastard if you get what I mean.”

“What do his family do?” Katie asked, “I’ve never even heard of the Drysdales, and I’m pretty well connected…”

“His mother and father run some real Estate Company.” Will shrugged, “A local one round Massachusetts, but you’ll have heard of his grandfather, or if you haven’t you’ve been living under a rock for the last 20 years.” “Who?” she asked.

“Harlan Thrombey, the crime fiction author.” Will said, and Katie felt the colour drain from her face. She turned to look at Steve whose eyes had also widened, and she gave a groan.

“Shit.”

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @icanfeelastormbrewing @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

#stark spangled banner #knives out #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #ransom drysdale #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #cross over #americas asshole #americas ass

102 notes · View notes