#Toilet Troop

[corrodedcoughin]

everyone saying they want steve to have hobbies? Well guess what, he DOES and they are WWE wrestling and bedazzling.

He religiously watches WWE, knows all the intro themes for all his favourites and practices the moves with anyone that will let him (Eddie, Lucas and Gareth). He has a WWE themed party for his birthday and EVERYONE has to dress up.

Which is EXACTLY where bedazzling comes in to play because he makes everyone costumes. He also bedazzled everything El owns at her request and a skull on to the back of Eddie’s leather jacket.

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[dontopenfairies]

“Hey, come on, let’s go play the arcade games by the bar!” shouts one of our friends.

“Ohh, I wanna go,” my boyfriend says, starting to rise and then looking over at me. I’m still talking to my best friend at our table. “Is it okay if I leave for a second?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, sweetheart,” I say, brushing my hand down his arm as he stands up and follows our friends to the other room. “We’re just going to keep talking over here.”

“Okay! Be right back!”

Around half an hour later, everyone comes trooping back, looking a little dopier and smilier.

“Oof,” I say, involuntarily, as my boyfriend plows into me and wraps his arms around me, sliding into the booth next to where I’m sitting. I can smell sweet, warm alcohol on him.

“Hi,” he says, looking at me with glassy eyes.

“You’re drunk!” I say, pushing him away playfully.

“He had a couple shots,” explains one of our friends. “And he finished Maria’s vodka cherry for her.”

“Ohh,” I say, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. “Is that so? Maybe we should get a ride home soon.”

But someone wants to sing karaoke, and then he wants to show me the pinball machines, and there’s another round of shots…and, finally, the bar is closed and we are outside in the dark parking lot waiting for our Uber.

“I have to go pee,” he says to me quietly.

“Okay,” I say. “Do you want to go find somewhere secluded to go, or…” Just at that moment, the Uber pulls up in front of us.

“That’s okay. I can hold it until we get home.”

“Are you sure? It’s going to be about 10 minutes.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I can hold it.”

He doesn’t complain the whole way home, he just keeps giggling and nestling his face against my neck. We finally get dropped off in front of the house. As he stands up, I hear him wince. “Oh fuck. I forgot I have to pee. Oww…” He hurries up the front walkway to the porch and I follow him.

“Let me get the door,” I say, knowing he’ll just fumble trying to unlock it. I shake my keys out of my purse. He’s twisting the hem of his shirt between his hands and squeezing his thighs together. I unlock the door and pull it open. Inside, I flip on the light and drop my keys in the dish on the table by the door and slip off my shoes, bracing myself with a hand on the wall. “Aren’t you going to go to the bathroom?” I ask, turning to look over my shoulder.

“…Oops.” He’s standing completely still in front of the door, hands clutching his crotch. A big wet patch is forming across his pants.

“Ohh, sweetheart. Come on.” I gently guide his hands away and hold them tight, ignoring that they’re a little damp, as I walk backwards, leading him to the bathroom.

“I’m not finished,” he mumbles as I start to unbutton his fly.

“Oh,” I say, stepping back. “Here, why don’t you just sit down on the toilet…um, are you okay?” He looks very pale.

He suddenly burps loudly and claps a hand to his mouth. “I’m going to throw up,” he says, eyes wide with fear.

“Oh, oh, baby,” I say, quickly lifting the lid and seat of the toilet. “Crouch down. You’re okay.” He chokes and a thin stream of foamy, white vomit slips out of his mouth into the toilet bowl. At the same time, he starts to pee again and I can hear it dripping on the floor. One hand braces him on the rim of the toilet bowl and the other is between his legs. “You had way too much to drink,” I say, wiping his slick hair off his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you don’t like it when people throw up.” I can see his stomach heave and he throws up a little more, then sits back on his ankles.

“Are you all done?”

“Yeah,” he says, “that was it.” He wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh, sorry. That’s gross.” He sets his hand down on the floor and looks up at me, so sad and pathetic.

“Okay, stand up, sweetheart,” I say, guiding him to his feet. The pee has soaked long streaks on his pants all the way down to his ankles. I close the toilet lid and flush it, and then I lead him over to the sink and wrap my arms around him from behind so I can wash both of our hands.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay, honey,” I say, rubbing soap onto the backs of his hands. “I’m here.”

“I didn’t mean to throw up,” he says.

“I know, baby. Just let me get the pee and throw-up off your hands.” I turn on the tap and rub the soap off under the water, turning his hands over to make sure I’m rinsing everywhere. “Then you can rinse your mouth out and I can take off your pants and get you in PJs. And then we’re going to brush our teeth and go to bed.”

“Okay,” he says, and I let him lean down to get water right out of the tap. He starts to gulp it down.

“Careful,” I say, rubbing his back. “Is that a good idea?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I feel okay.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve again.

“I need to get your face, too,” I say, reaching for a washcloth. I hold onto his cheek and gently rub the wet cloth over his face, first over his eyes and forehead and then his mouth and chin. He keeps his eyes closed. “Does that feel good?”

“Mm,” he murmurs. I undo his fly and gently coax his pants down. He’s about 50% hard under his briefs. “I’m sorry,” he says again, now sounding more ashamed.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s really okay, honey.”

“First I wet the bed the other week. And now I peed my p-pants…” Oh no. He’s starting to cry again. “And I threw up…I never throw up from drinking…”

“Oh, sweetheart. Oh, baby.” I wrap my arms around him and he cries into my shoulder. “It’s okay. It happens, honey. It’s okay.” I disentangle myself and squeeze both his hands. “You’re going to stay right here and I’m coming back with PJs for you. And tomorrow morning we’ll take a long, warm shower. You’re okay.”

“Okay,” he says, and I leave him, standing half-naked and looking a little lost.

I come back and set his pajamas on the counter. I help him pull his shirt off over his head and then get another washcloth. “Let’s just wipe you down really quick for now, okay? I can tell you’re tired.” For some reason hearing this makes him tear up again. I peel off his briefs and add them to the pile of dirty, wet clothes under the sink. Then I gently wipe off his penis, his balls, between his thighs, and his butt. His dick is slowly twitching to a full erection.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I d-don’t know why I’m getting hard.”

“I’m touching you,” I say. “It’s going to happen.” I’ll ignore, just for now, the fact that he’s been hard this whole time, ever since he had his accident. I dab him all dry with a clean towel and help him step into new underwear and his pajama pants, and pull his night tshirt over his head. “Do you need to wash your face again?” I ask. He nods and splashes himself with water. I wash my face, too, and then I brush my teeth and his. I don’t want him to gag himself with the toothbrush and while he seems better, he still doesn’t have quite the coordination he does when sober.

“Come on, bedtime,” I say, leading him out of the bathroom. “Let’s climb under the covers.” I crawl in first and open my arms so he can slink in and cuddle up to me.

I hold his warm body in silence until he says, “I don’t know why that turned me on so much.”

“You like being taken care of. It’s okay.” I kiss his head. It’s a little smelly. He definitely needs a thorough shower tomorrow morning.

“It is?” he asks in a small voice.

“Yes, it’s really okay. If you need to throw up again, or if you need help going pee, just wake me up, okay, sweetheart?” He hums. “Can I hear you say okay, baby?”

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell you.” Then he gets quiet again. “What happens if I wet the bed again?” he asks.

“Then maybe it’ll be time to think about having you wear pull-ups to bed, or something. Lots of grown-ups have to do it.”

“Mm,” he says in acknowledgment.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” I say. “It won’t be the end of the world. It just means I get to take care of you extra good.”

“Mmm…” he says. “I like how that sounds.”

And then his breathing turns deep and even, and I know he’s asleep.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

FEFERI: WAIT OK T)(IS IS MY B-EST ON---E.

FEFERI: Okay so I used to )(ave t)(is beta fis)( named Leonard Co)(en w)(o lived in a bowl on my desk. )(e was t)(e only pet I )(ad as an adult.

FEFERI: I switc)(ed jobs and took )(im wit)( me and t)(en like a mont)( into my new job )(e died, and I M-ELT----ED DOWN. I was like super attac)(ed to t)(is fis)( and it was like a w)(ole t)(ing.

FEFERI: So my reely nice coworkers were like,

ARADIA: "d0 y0u want t0 have a funeral f0r the fish"

FEFERI: And I said yes, all sobbing and sniffling like a s)(ipwreck.

FEFERI: So we all trooped into t)(e bat)(room and we crammed into t)(e )(andicapped stall and my coworker gently dumped t)(e fis)( in t)(e toilet and was like,

ARADIA: "w0uld y0u like me t0 say a few w0rds"

FEFERI: And I said yes, and s)(e was like,

ARADIA: "here lies le0nard cohen. he was a g00d fish wh0 br0ught j0y int0 a l0t 0f lives"

FEFERI: So I'm sobbing into my coworkers' s)(oulders as all of t)(em go around in a circle and one by one t)(ey eac)( say somefin nice about my dead fis)(. And t)(en suddenly we )(ear a voice from t)(e next stall go,

KARKAT: "WHAT THE *FUCK* IS GOING ON????"

[hyuuukais]

⋆₊‧⁺˖⋆˚.⋆ ͙͘͡★ LOOK UP TO THE STARS

pairing ▪︎ han jisung x fem reader

synopsis ▪︎ sent out on a mission to a neighbouring QZ that's gone radio silent, y/n falls into the hands of a post-rebellion group after things go terribly wrong. giving up on rejoining her squad, she joins the group on a trek to find a missing member, the group leader's sister. what's supposed to be a not-so-simple trip out and back to their base becomes a one-way ticket to the end of everything they know.

warnings ▪︎ general, blood, broken bones, some description of injuries

MASTERLIST | NEXT

CHAPTER ONE ▪︎ SET UP FOR FAILURE (7.2k)

"What do you do when a nearby Quarantine Zone has gone radio silent?"

The squad leader paces the front of the classroom, watching hands fly up. This year, there are fewer cadets than ever, the population dwindling constantly. They're eager, hungry for field action, wanting to see the hypothetical scenarios themselves. Sure, the simulations were exciting, and the history of the world prior to the apocalypse was interesting enough. Still, even you, one of the few who genuinely liked these classes, were getting sick of sitting back and hearing about missions instead of being able to see it all firsthand.

"Send out a squad?" You answer when your hand is picked, shrugging.

"No." You wince at your squad leader's strict voice, but it relaxes. "Not a squad, just a few troops to scout the area and survey the damage. So, not entirely wrong, but not entirely correct either." He leans back on the chipped blackboard, hands behind his back. "This is stuff you'll need to get down if you want to move up in the ranks, all of you. I'm not singling you out Y/n- ehem, Cadet L/n."

A few people in the back giggle at the slip-up, knowing your more personal relationship with the soldier standing before you. He hides a smirk behind a well-trained stoic face, your own painted with a furious blush of red. Like the professional he is, the lesson continues without much of a pause, only briefly calling out the laughter to remind everyone who's in charge here.

After being drilled with so much information it could cause a migraine, you're finally able to leave. The next parts of your day include physical training and weaponry practice, then dinner, and bed at 10:30PM sharp. No time for chitchat, no time for leisure outside of the confines of your small room. Not that you've earned your own room yet, so at least you have your roommates to entertain you.

You hang back, having a few minutes to spare before heading off to throw punches or do push-ups or whatever they'll have you doing next. Just enough time to give Minho an equally needed break.

"Squad Leader Lee?" You approach his desk once everyone is gone with a flirty tone in your voice. "Why, that lesson was... I have no words, truly. The way your voice projects over such a large room, so deep and velvety, really. And don't even get me started on how good you look in that uniform-"

"Cadet L/n, that's enough," he says in a strict enough tone you almost take him seriously.

"My bad, my bad. So, what is it?" You ask, grinning. "No dessert or bathroom duties?"

"How about both?" His face finally betrays him, the corners of his mouth upturned.

"Now there's that cruel soldier everyone believes you to be!" You cry, dramatically holding a hand over your heart. "How could you! You know how much I love the mushy crumble and how much I hate cleaning those disgusting public toilets. Just cause humanity has fallen doesn't mean you can't still be decent, people!"

You both laugh a bit too loudly, and you're about to continue your acting until a harsh knock on the open door interrupts you. Swiveling around, you're met with the hard stare of your Captain.

"Cadet. Squad Leader," He greets, clearing his throat and eyeing you. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Y-yes," You flinch. "Yes, sir."

"Better head off then," He says, waving you off as he enters the room. "Squad Leader Lee, spare a minute?"

"Of course, sir." Minho stands, voice fading as you rush down the hall.

-

"What is going on with you two?"

Standing over your panting figure is Seungmin, your best friend since coming to the QZ. He offers you a hand, taking it away just as you go to grab it.

"Dick." You push yourself off the ground, sweat dripping down your back. "Nothing, you know this! Why does everyone think something's going on?"

"Duh, because you knew each other before coming here? You have history," Seungmin wiggles his eyebrows, bumping his shoulder against yours. "Another round?"

"What? So you can just kick my ass again?" You huff. "We both know you're a better fighter."

"Only in the physical sense. I'd hate to be on your bad side with a weapon in your hand, sheesh." He hands you your water bottle and a rag, grabbing his own after. "Besides, you were obviously distracted today. Usually, you're much better."

"Complimenting me, are we?"

"Never." He grimaces, taking a seat on the bench.

You follow his lead, sitting back and watching your fellow cadets spar on the mats. Some just use their fists, like you and Seungmin, and some are equipped with small knives. No one is allowed to critically injure someone else, but accidents happen, usually among the more bloodthirsty of your peer group.

"Fuck, he's brutal," you say, pointing to the back where a larger member of the group is throwing down his opponent. "Lucky I got stuck with your skinny ass."

"My skinny a- really? Look," Seungmin smacks your right arm, as you shake with laughter. "Look. Call this skinny?" He flexes his muscles in his left arm, putting your hand over his sleeved arm to prove his point. "I could crush you. I will crush you."

Empty threats, empty promises, but full, full laughter erupting from your throat. It's short-lived, however, as your Captain is now walking toward you through the mats.

"Jesus, this guy and I just keep running into each other today, huh?" You mutter, wiping away excess water from your mouth.

"This guy could use you as zombie bait-" Seungmin abruptly stands and salutes. "Afternoon, Captain."

"Good afternoon, Cadet Kim. As good as it can be these days." He clears his throat as you stand, copying Seungmin's behaviours. "Cadet L/n, we meet again. First, you're taking up Squad Leader Lee's time, and now you're slacking in your physical training."

"She just needed a minute to breathe-"

"I'm talking to Cadet L/n right now," the Captain cuts Seungmin off who's barely hiding his annoyance. He's never liked your Captain. "If you keep up like this, you'll never improve. Just some food for thought."

"Yes, Captain Park."

"Now, get back out there. You still have time for a few rounds before weaponry training." He turns halfway, looking at you over his shoulder. "Change your stance and you'll get knocked down less. Cadet Kim, I trust you can show her?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good." With that, he heads out.

"Why was he even watching us?" You cross your arms, no longer hiding your disgust. "Doesn't he have better things to do?"

"Apparently not." Seungmin steps back onto the nearest mat where you like to train, easy to step off for breaks both necessary and unnecessary. "Let's get back at it, I guess. I don't want to get stuck on dish duty."

-

After all training for the day concludes, you head to the cafeteria, planning to grab a sandwich and head back to your room early. As usual, the area is full of hungry soldiers, making it hard to be quick. You tend to avoid eating here and getting stuck in meaningless conversations with people you likely won't see again, never sticking around long enough to make proper friends. Seungmin was scheduled for dinner a half hour after you, leaving you alone for the first half. The one time you waited to eat with Seungmin and his friends was the most painfully awkward experience of your life, standing against the wall with your tray of food trying desperately to not get knocked over by the sea of bodies.

Nothing against Seungmin and his friends, but you didn't know them that well either. You briefly met Ryujin that day, but she was similar to you. She spared enough time to talk and eat, but once she was done, she was done. Gone to her room early for God knows what.

For a while there was Jeongin, but he was mistakenly sent on a mission; something that was supposed to be a fake scenario turned out to be very much real. No one's seen him since. They didn't find a body, so you have to assume he turned. You've never asked Seungmin what he thinks happened knowing it's a touchy subject, changing the topic whenever someone else brings it up.

Today is different, something in the air makes you want to hang around. There's a feeling of secrecy, whispers of rumours thick in the air. Getting as close as you can to the people next to you in line without it being weird, you try to eavesdrop. They're also cadets, but from a different squad; you don't recognize them.

"No way, they would tell us that, wouldn't they?" The taller one says, further away from you.

"You really think so?" The one closer to you scoffs. "The higher-ups don't tell us shit about anything that goes on beyond these walls."

"Okay, but isn't missing a whole QZ kind of, I don't know, important?"

You grab a spoonful of bland potatoes.

"Obviously it is!" The shorter one whispers. "But at our level, I seriously doubt they'll let us know. We won't even be able to do anything anyway since we can't go beyond the walls yet."

"Sometimes they let squads out of training early." The taller one scoops some beans. "Maybe-"

"Shh, Captain Park is right there." He hands you the spoon, unaware of your part in the conversation.

So that must be why Minho had to discuss abandoned QZ's and the procedures today. You knew it wasn't the originally planned lesson, hearing Minho complain all about it the day before after class. Maybe he knows something. Maybe he's just as in the dark as the rest of you, only being told of a sudden lesson change and that's it. Could he be hiding something from you? That talk with the Captain...

"Hey, keep the line moving!" Someone shouts, unfreezing you.

You dash out of the cafeteria, leaving your food behind. It's okay, it was barely edible anyway.

If Minho knows something, you'll find out. He can't keep secrets from you and you know it, using the fact to get ahead of the rest of your class even though you already knew it all. But this? Something to this extent?

"Minho!" You swing the door open only to be met with not just Minho, but Squad Leader Seo as well. "Oh, um, evening squad leaders. I just, um, came to..." You spot an assignment paper on Minho's desk, snatching one up. "...grab a new copy of this! Once you're available, could we go over question nine? I got a bit confused."

"Question nine..." Squad Leader Seo leans over to look at the papers. "'What to do if a zombie bites your fellow soldier'? Sounds pretty straightforward to me."

You bite your lip, cursing yourself for not looking at the questions first.

"Of course, Squad Leader," you address her, putting on your acting face. "The thing is, the question's a bit broad, no?" She cocks an eyebrow. "Well, you see, where was this soldier bit? Obviously, there's no hope if it's the neck. Goner, shoot in the head. But what if it's the forearm? Or the calf? Are you not able to amputate the limb before infection spreads?"

Squad Leader Seo just shakes her head. "She's all yours, Lee."

You stand back triumphant. If there's one thing you're good at, it's annoying or confusing people to your advantage.

"Wow," Minho gives you a slow clap. "Just... wow. Next time I wanna get someone off my back, I'll give you a call."

"Gotta use my natural talent somewhere," you chuckle, taking a seat in the chair Seo must have pulled over. "Not like actress' still exist."

"Clowns do."

"Screw you!" You ball up the paper, tossing it at him lightly. It bounces off his chest and falls to the floor.

"So why are you here now? Don't you only have-" He checks his watch. "-eleven minutes until your dinner hour is over? Meaning I have eleven until mine starts."

"I had a question."

"Something more important than getting a well balanced meal in?" Minho raises an eyebrow.

"Way more important. And you know those meals are gross, you and your secret spice stash... you still need to tell me where you get those. Anyway!" You take a breath, unsure how to approach the topic without being too blunt. "I've heard people talking-"

"-because they're always so truthful."

"Shut up." You lean in, not wanting to risk any passerby hearing. You really should have shut the door behind you and risked talk about you and Minho. "I overheard some cadets talking about a neighbouring QZ going silent and couldn't help but think that it might have had to do with our lesson today. Do you know anything about this?"

Minho stiffens. "If I knew something, I couldn't tell you, you know that."

"But I'm your exception." You roll your eyes. "We both know that."

"For a lot of things, yes, but this?" He eyes the door. "Even if I wanted to tell you, I can't, and that's final."

"Minho-"

"That's final," His tone is harsh, the only way he knows how to get you to stop pressing further. "Got it, Cadet?"

"Got it," you mumble, pouting.

You really thought you'd be able to get something, anything, a crumb of information from him, but no. He had to put Squad Leader Lee on and Minho away, leaving you with the same info as you walked in with.

An idea was brewing, and Minho could tell.

"What's that face for?" He questions. "You're scheming, aren't you?"

"No," you say, all too quickly. "Course not. Nice chatting with you!"

You stand abruptly, your chair squeaking backward as you dash out of the room to avoid questions. Fellow cadets stare as you bound past them, back to the cafeteria. There were two minutes left in your hour, just enough to pull Seungmin out of his chair and to the side, leading him outside before he can protest or even register what was happening.

Cold air hits your face, skin prickling in the early spring moonlight. Turning him to face you, you let go of Seungmin's arm. There are few people occupying outdoor seats on the patio, still too cool to have a meal enjoyably. This works in your favour, moving to the table furthest from the doors for some privacy.

"Why'd you drag me out here? Can't a man eat in peace?"

"Short answer, no." You drag a hand through your hair, only loose during your free time. "Long answer, we're going to break into Minho's office."

"Should I get Captain Park to drag you to the infirmary? Because you've lost it, genuinely lost it."

"Ugh, I've seen him enough today," you groan. "Listen, Minho obviously knows something about what's going on-"

"What's going on?" Seungmin asks.

"Haven't you heard of the abandoned QZ?"

"Oh, that," he says. "It's just a rumour."

"Or is it?" You smile devilishly. "I asked Minho about it and the way he reacted suggests otherwise, plus my lesson today was all about radio silence. It all adds up!"

"It all adds up because you want it to add up." Seungmin scans the patio, inhaling when more people join you outside. "We shouldn't be talking about this."

"Fine, don't join me." You lean back hard, arms crossed. "I'm gonna do it anyway."

"Well, it was nice knowing you." He leaves you then, and you realize your dinner hour is past over.

Sneaking back to your room will have to do. Good practice for tonight! But your mind wanders as you head back. What if doing this hurts your friendship with Minho? Should you really risk so much over some rumour? Besides, even if it's true, if you get caught you won't be able to go with your squad to check it out anyway.

"Not that they send training squads..." You pout, opening your door.

You're met with hushes, creaks of beds, and giggling.

"Relax, it's just me."

"Oh good, it's about time you showed up." Your roommate, Yeji, sits up with her hair all messed up from trying to act asleep. "I thought you'd be in Captain Park's office again."

"Nope. Almost in Minho's though."

"Fucking finally!" Yeji cocks her head, a wide smile on her face.

"Took you long enough," another voice says.

A head pops up from Yeji's bed, and your other roommate Yuna lies there. You realize it's actually Yuna's bed they're in, having both rushed thinking you were someone else.

"I'm gonna get my stuff and get ready for bed," you say, grabbing a small netted bag with a towel and soap inside. "Don't have too much fun while I'm gone."

Closing the door with a soft click, you head to the communal showers. They're at the end of the corridor, each squad getting their own with their floor. Your squad, number fourteen-three, kept it surprisingly clean and even won an award for housekeeping the year before. This was your last year here, moving on with the rest of the squad to the frontlines next year. That is, if you make it that far.

Privacy was hard to come by, so you sit in the shower stall a little longer after the water's turned off. Wrapped in your towel, you slouch sideways against the wall, closing your eyes for just a minute. At first, you think you're dreaming of the voices you hear, shaking yourself awake. Goosebumps prickle at your skin for the second time that night, either from the cool air coming in from under the shower curtain, or the realization of people joining you.

"No, you can't tell her anything." Oh, you're definitely not supposed to be hearing this. "I don't care how much you trust her. You know how much I want to tell Bin, and I can't. I don't see how this is much different."

Squad Leader Seo sighs, loudly.

"She won't tell anyone," Minho replies.

They're talking about you.

"She'll tell Seungmin, who will tell Ryujin, who will tell Yuna, who will tell Bin. Then what?" Seo hisses. "You need to understand this."

"I hate this." Minho shuffles. "I hate not knowing and not being able to do anything."

"I know you do. I do too," her voice softens. "Last I heard is they're planning to make an official announcement tomorrow. Hopefully, that'll be enough to satisfy her curiosity."

"It better be."

Their voices fade and you wait, you wait until it's completely silent, and then some, ensuring they'll be gone by the time you step out.

-

Soldiers shuffle around to find empty seats, sitting with their squads. In the row in front of you sits Minho, next to him Squad Leader Seo, with a gap large enough for one person to walk through between their seats to separate their squads, fourteen-three and fourteen-four. The other two squads in your section are seated in the rows ahead of you, not much further away. Your squad only consists of ten people, two rows of five each. Yeji and Yuna sit to your right, Seungmin to your left.

"Attention!" Captain Park clears his throat from the stage; you think this used to be a school's auditorium. "Please, give me your attention!"

Everyone falls silent.

"Thank you. Now," He points at a white sheet behind him, an image of a map projected onto it. "We are here." He points to a small red dot at the bottom of the map. "Our closest neighbouring QZ's are here," he points at a green dot, "and here." He points at a blue dot. They look close enough, but you know from studying the maps they're a lot further than they seem.

"For a long time, we've established trade routes to help sustain us, sent trained soldiers and healers to each other when needed," he begins his speech. "This system has worked for thirty years." Captain Park takes a few steps on the stage. "Now, one of them has gone radio silent. We haven't heard back from them nor our messengers who've been sent out to find out what's happened."

A few people gasp, whispers arising. Panic fills the air, heads turning and some even standing up.

"Sit back down!" Captain Park barks. "There's no need to panic, really. All but one of our messengers have gone and not come back. It turns out they've been... overrun, slightly, forced to the middle of their zone where the infected beings have trapped them.

"Most of the infected have wandered back out, running out of resources." You cringe; he means people. "So we're using this as a training opportunity. Thanks to some of our best squad leadership yet, we're sending out squads fourteen-three and thirteen-four. You're about to graduate early!"

Shock runs through your body so intensely your hair could be standing up. So the rumour was true, and you're being sent out.

You're being sent out.

You.

"Shit," you gasp, tears forming in your wide eyes.

"Y/n! Did you hear- hey." Seungmin takes your face in his hands, catching the falling tears with his thumbs. "No crying where people can see you, remember?" You sniff, nodding. "Good. This is good news. We're finally getting a chance to get out of here and experience the real world."

"Right," you say, determination taking over your numb face. "Right! Finally!"

You jump out of your seat, joining the rest of your excited squad mates. This was an opportunity you couldn't pass up, no matter how frightening it is now that it's happening. You're leaving, you're really leaving.

But when you lock eyes with Minho, all you can see devastation.

-

Twelve hours later you were in the backseat of a vehicle heading to the next QZ. Sitting next to you is Seungmin, silently looking out of the window. Most of the surrounding area had turned into dense forest, the dirt road bumpy. Minho was up front driving, one hand on the wheel and the other lounging in the open window, wind coming back and hitting you in the face.

You drifted in and out of sleep on the trip, a restless night keeping you up before. This morning offered barely any time to down some kind of caffeinated drink and a small breakfast, packing some for on the road. It feels like a lifetime has passed since you left, seeing more of the real world than you've seen in a long time.

Most people in your squad had either been born in the QZ or arrived at such a young age that they don't have any memories of outside of it, but you had lived beyond it for the first decade of your life. It wasn't hard to forget since you'd become so accustomed to life inside the walls.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Seungmin's voice brings you back to reality.

"Hmm?" You detach your eyes from the trees, looking over at your friend. "Oh, nothing, really. Just kind of zoning out."

"You better zone back in." Seungmin points between the front seats and you follow his gaze. "We're here."

In front of you stands a large, grey wall with a secured gate and two lookout spots on either side. Barbed wire lines the top of the structure, although you highly doubt zombies can climb. There isn't much difference from your own, just a different number spray painted above the gate. Nothing looks out of the ordinary, minus the missing soldiers.

"How'd the infected even get in?" You ask, thinking out loud.

No one answers, unease settling in. Minho leaves the vehicle first, circling around to grab his gun from the back. Yeji leaves next and you follow, Seungmin and Ryujin out last. On you, you have two small knives strapped to your thigh and a small pistol on your hip. Lastly, you have a slingshot tucked into your back pocket, a small satchel secured across your body to hold ammo.

The five of you walk toward the gate, Minho punching a code into the pin pad on the right. With a groan, the gate starts sliding open. Behind that gate is another for extra security also requiring a code, so Minho continues on, the rest of you getting your weapons out to prepare. You hold one of your knives, opting for something quieter before the chaos ensues. This gate creaks open slightly faster, allowing entrance into the QZ.

"So," Minho slows to a stop a few steps ahead. "That must be how they got in."

To the left is a huge hole in the wall, still smoking from whatever- or whoever- blew it out. Infected figures twitch and drag their feet around by the opening, far enough away they won't see you quite yet. Unlike your own QZ, there's a big parking lot to your left with what you assume are all of this QZ's vehicles, still intact. The explosion might have been big, but not enough to reach every inch of the area. To your right is a short building, probably where patrol squads check in and out, or where newcomers are interviewed. Straight ahead is a homemade gravel road leading into more domestic areas, small houses lining beyond the obvious military buildings out front.

You knew once you reached a certain rank you'd be able to get your own apartment or even a house like these ones, but you've never seen so many. This comes as a shock to you, believing you were one of the largest QZ's in the area, but you guess largest doesn't need to apply to the population within the walls, but the space it takes up.

"Squad Leader Lee." Seo runs up, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How're we doing this?"

He thinks for a minute, staring at the gaping hole.

"Split your squad into two," he starts. "You'll take half to the left with half of mine, leave the rest with Changbin." She gives him a look, clearly against the idea. "We both know he's capable and this is training after all. He'll lead his half and mine to the right side, snaking through buildings to reach the middle ones marked on the map. You and I will head to the right, taking out the infected as we go."

"Should we not all go right? We're here to rescue, not to kill." Squad Leader Seo turns him to face Minho, hand falling from his shoulder. "We shouldn't go into unnecessary danger."

"If all of those infected catch wind of where we are, not only will everyone on the right side then be trapped, but we'll have every single one of them after us. This way we can thin out the hoard." Minho checks his ammo, a way of signifying the end of the argument. "Feel free to do what you think is right, but don't blame me when your squad gets killed."

Squad Leader Seo looks taken aback, unused to Minho in action, hard and strict. Face void of emotion, he motions his squad forward to section off who will go where. Of course, you're chosen for his group, along with Ryujin, Seungmin chosen to lead the others going with Changbin.

"I swear to fucking God if you die-" You adjust the strap holding Seungmins ammo.

"I should be saying that to you," He chuckles. "You die on me and I'll kill you."

"Please do," You say, semi-serious. "I don't wanna be one of them."

"I won't let that happen," Minho says from behind you, gaining both your and Seungmins attention. "Finish your goodbyes and let's go."

"He can be such a dick." Seungmin rolls his eyes. "Comes with age, I guess."

"Shut up," You laugh. "He's not even much older than us."

Seungmin half-smiles, looking down at you. "My squad is gonna leave me if I don't go now. Squad Leader Kim, out."

"Wait." You grab his arm when he moves past you. "Not even a proper goodbye?"

He considers this. "I don't want to say goodbye to you."

"How about see you later?" You offer. "That promises we'll meet again after."

"Promises don't exist in this world," He says, but notices the way your face drops. "I'll... make an exception this time. See you later, bug."

"Squad section one, over here!" Minho waves his arms, signalling you and the others assigned to him over.

"See you later," you say finally.

Your section moves out, staying low between abandoned vehicles and corners of buildings, slowly but surely making your way to the hole. The closer you get, the more infected you see.

They look worse up close, prominent black veins popping out of their necks. Some limp, some stalk, some just stand there unmoving. You're hiding behind the tire of a truck, barely out of sight, and watch as one inches its way over. Its eyes are sunken in, lines deep in the skin, and nails grown out long with dirt and decay stuck underneath the tips. As it starts getting closer to your location, you make eye contact with Minho who sits behind a concrete barrier across from you. He makes a motion downward and you know what he's saying immediately. Crouching low, you slide your body underneath the truck, knife ready. You can see the feet shuffling through the front.

"Stay there," Minho mouths, wielding a knife of his own.

Part of you wants to disobey; it'd be so easy to take it down! But you know better. Moving too early won't just risk you, but your squad too.

It stops at the side, tips of its feet underneath the truck and right by your arm. Sweat beads on your forehead, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. You didn't know how much intelligence these things really had, always learning they lost most of it once turned. Most, not all. What if it somehow senses you and crouches down; or turns around and spots Minho? Would it grab you, claw at your skin until it's raw and bleeding, dragging you out finally to feast?

But it does none of that, simply standing there.

You move slowly to the other side of the truck and survey your surroundings, taking in where you can move to for quick cover. There isn't much, mostly rubble, but you spot a home nearby where a piece of blown-out wall has made a new entrance. You'd have to stay low as there isn't much to hide you on the way, but you couldn't stay here trapped under this vehicle. Making eye contact with Minho, you nod your head toward it. He has an easy route to move there, and so does most of the squad, you're the only one who has to risk anything.

He moves toward the front of the house, opting to use the front door.

"Always has to do it his way," you mutter, dragging your body out from underneath the truck.

What you failed to see is another infected making its way from the back of the truck, a low growl escaping its throat as you go into a low crouch. Slowly, you turn around right as it sprints at you, pouncing and pinning your arms down. Instead of biting you right away, it screams, spit flying onto your face and neck, and you notice the way its skin is peeling away from the corners of its mouth. You fight your own shout, struggling against the strength of its hold.

This is it. It'll go for the killing blow in a second.

I'm sorry Minho, you think as you see other infected alert at the sound of your attack. I'm sorry Seungmin, I'm sorry Squad Leader Seo, I'm sorry Yeji, Ryujin, Changbin-

You fight back tears as the infected on top of you continues to wail and wonder why it hasn't bitten you yet, why it's prolonging this encounter when you could be dead already. The grip on your forearms is bruising, pushing them deeper into the ground.

You hear it before you see it- another explosion as the hoard gathers. All you can do is hope the others got to safety, even if you're going to die here. Your first mission, failed.

A hand comes out of nowhere, piercing the infected in the skull and it drops onto you, rolling to the side. When the grip loosens, you push the dead weight off your body, grabbing the hand now offering help.

"I said I'm not letting you become worm food." Minho runs with you, hand still holding yours. "Everyone, back down! Head to the gates!"

No one hesitates. Another two explosions sound behind you and you don't dare to look back, the second sounding closer than the first. The ground rumbles underneath your feet and you stumble, Minho barely catching you before you hit the ground. Shrieks sound from behind you, terribly human. You finally glance behind.

Ground and body parts fly up in the air and you can see the grenades being thrown from all sides. You catch a glimpse of someone running across the destruction, face half covered in a black cloth and sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

"There's people!" You shout over the noise, forcing Minho to stop as you stare in horror. "We have to help them!"

"Pretty sure they're the ones causing this shit," Minho says, close to your ear. "We need to get out of here while we still can."

You want to protest, but the grenade that lands by your feet suggests you move. The two of you barely make it behind a parked van before it blows, heat blasting over you. Whoever is doing this either has no idea your squad is there, or don't care.

"We just need to get past those buildings." Minho points, and you realize how close you are to the exit.

You're on the gravel road straight to the exit, right by the beginnings of the training buildings, short and matching the patrol station at the front. The next moves are obvious; book it out. Emerging from your left are the other two squads and you can see Seungmin scanning the area until he spots you. Clearly, he wants to run to you, but something is stopping him and you don't have to guess what it is when you hear the now familiar groans and cries.

"Now!" Minho shouts, running out of cover.

A second delayed, you follow. The gravel is uneven and holey, making it hard not to slip. Minho is faster than you as you pant, trying to catch up. At the gates, he stops and turns in your direction, watching in slow motion as a heavy-duty, homemade bomb of sorts lands near you, tumbling to the edge of a building and blowing bits of concrete everywhere, the force knocking you down. A larger piece traps your left leg, pinned against the ground.

"Y/n!" You look up, seeing Seungmin rush to you and Minho frozen to the spot. "Damn it, this is really heavy."

He attempts to lift the chunk off of you and you scream out, face contorting in pain. You can feel the broken bone threatening to rip your skin. Seungmin comes back into sight, gun in hand, frantically shooting above you. Twisting the best you can, you reach for your own gun and find it missing. You must have lost it with all the running and ducking.

Now you can see the infected coming at you in full force.

"Seungmin, go!" You cry out, panting. "Get out of here!"

"What happened to no goodbyes?" He backs up slightly, spotting something you can't see from down here. "Shit."

Seungmin is back by your side, desperate to get the piece of wall off of you. He falls back, an infected clawing at his shoulder. Blood seeps through the beige fabric of his coat and he winces, using his good arm to hit the creature in the neck with his knife. Distracted, you don't notice the infected leaping at your body unit it's too late, eyes now trained on Minho being held back by Squad Leader Seo. You can see her shouting at him as he struggles to get past her, ultimately failing when she gets Changbin to help drag him toward the gates. Reading his lips, you realize he's been shouting your name, and twist back around just in time to see the infected land over you.

"No!" Your body is contorted painfully, not able to fully turn onto your back to fend off the creature due to your leg being trapped. "Get off!"

Sharp nails claw into your hip and pushing it downward, a scream of pain ripping from your throat. Your hip was definitely not supposed to turn that far. The other hand digs into your jaw, a terrifying set of teeth descending on you.

A gunshot sounds and blood pours out of a small hole in its forehead and onto your neck, body falling limp and releasing your own. Your body falls back into the natural position it should be in; back on your stomach. People you don't recognize are helping Seungmin up from under the infected that attacked him, a couple more running behind you. You're too tired to turn around and see what they're doing, barely registering the pressure change on your leg. Minho is gone, and so is the rest of your squad it seems, gates closed.

They left you for dead.

He left you for dead.

Hot, angry tears roll down your face as your vision begins to blacken, unable to keep it inside anymore. Loose hair tumbles over your eyes, getting stuck in the mix of tears and blood, slicking over your forehead when you put your head down on the gravel path. Every muscle in your body is crying out, burning white hot as you're lifted.

Someone puts an arm under your armpits and another under your legs, holding you bridal style, and your head falls into their chest. You know it's not Seungmin, having forced him to carry you enough times when you were too lazy to walk to a shared class or back to your room. Eyes barely open, you watch as blurry figures run back in the direction of the hole in the wall. There's a group of three in front of you, one holding onto another while the third helps them keep up with the rest of the group.

"Anyone see Ji?" The one holding you yells out, voice thick with an Australian accent.

"Last I saw, he was climbing out of the lookout." Someone jogs up beside you. "She looks like crap. Why didn't you leave her?"

"Everyone else already left her, figured she could use a hand."

"Do you think he's gonna be okay back there?" They ask. "Lots of military personnel and still tons of infected wandering about too."

"He'll be fine." He stops walking. "Mind opening the trunk? And maybe riding back here with her?"

"You know I hate riding in the back, it makes me nervous," they grumble, but still obey the request. "Lemme go grab my pack from the other truck."

"Don't bother, we're all going to the same place." He lifts you up, placing you down carefully on what feels like a thin blanket and flat pillow. "Better to get out now-"

"Hey! I'm here!" A voice cuts him off. "Damn, that looks a lot worse up close."

"Oh thank God." The person who was supposed to stay with you steps away from the truck. "He can go with her considering he saved her life and all. See you!"

See you later.

"Seung... Seungmin...?" You mumble, eyes fluttering closed as you feel the back of the truck move under the weight of someone stepping on it. "Is he...?"

"Shh." A warm hand gently pushes the strands of hair off your face. "Man, she's burning up."

"Here. Keep an eye on her until we get back to camp." The voice gets further away. "Bang on the back window if she starts dying or something."

"Got it." That's the last thing you hear before slipping into the dark completely.

-

Three days later, you open your eyes. They're dry, having to blink several times before you can register the dim light around you. You're on an uncomfortable cot in what you assume is a medical tent, three other unoccupied cots around you. Next to each is a small wooden table, all empty except yours which has half a bottle of water and a lantern, the source of the light. The entrance of the tent is closed, but you can still tell it's night. Looking over to the other side, you see someone's back turned to you.

"Hel-" You clear your throat, voice low and rough. "Hello? Where... am I?"

You try to sit up as they walk over to you, but pain shoots through your very soul. Biting back a shout, you stop moving.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He hands you the water. "Drink up.

"You look familiar," You say, taking in his foxlike features. "Is this another outpost?"

"No, not exactly." He turns his face away from you. "I have to let the others know you're awake, but take this-" He hands you a couple of pills. "-it'll help with the pain."

With that, he exists the tent. You don't know how long it takes until he comes back with another man by his side, but you've managed to sit up the best you can. One of your legs is tucked under you, the left sticking straight out in a makeshift splint.

"You're awake." You recognize the accent.

"You're the one who saved me."

He chuckles, taking a seat in a chair on the right.

"I can't take all the credit," He says, looking down at his hands briefly. "One of our snipers took out the infected on you. You asked about your teammate before passing out... he's okay, still recovering from a shoulder injury though."

"Seungmin's okay?" You shift suddenly in your bed, bad move, and wince at the soreness.

"Try not to move so much," The boy from earlier says.

"Yes, he's okay, and he's been asking about you too." He sits back. "This is only the second time he's left your side since you got here."

Hearing that makes your heart ache.

"So, I figure it's time for proper introductions!" He claps his hands together, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. "My name is Chan, welcome to what's left of the rebellion. That over there-" he points to the boy, who really looks about your age. "-is Jeongin."

"What?" Your head whips toward the boy. "That's why you look familiar! This is where you went? Oh my God, everyone thought you were dead! Does Min know?"

"That's..." Jeongin crosses his arms uncomfortably. "A story for another time."

"Chan!" A head pops into the tent. "Oh, I didn't realize she was awake, sorry."

"It's okay. What is it Chae?"

"The squad is back," She announces. "I told H-"

"Captain!" A man strides into the tent and 'Chae' leaves with a small eye roll.

"I told you to stop calling me that-" Chan stands, rubbing his forehead. "I'm kind of busy right now, the report will have to wait a minute."

Chan gestures toward you and the man's eyes widen.

"She's awake! I mean, you're awake, sorry," He says, giving an awkward smile and holding a hand out; you take it hesitantly. "I'm Han, Han Jisung. The guy who saved your ass."

---

notes ▪︎ first chapter let's goooo. i'm actually so excited for this u have no idea. i love love LOVE zombie/apocalypse stuff sm!! so it's nice to share smthn like that

─── taglist (18+) : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @manuosorioh @hanjisunglover @xxstrayland @puppyminnnie @hanjsquokka @kpopsstuffs @ot8girlfie

[leupagus]

Still working on the "No Seriously, If Crowley and Aziraphale Ever Did Have Sex, They'd Have So Many Weird Conversations About It First" fic

"You already have a penis?" Aziraphale demanded, his hands on his hips. "Since when?"

Crowley tried to recall. "Turn of the nineteenth, I think?" he ventured. There'd been a fountain, and a lot of wine, and Jane challenging him to see which of them could hit the fish statue in the middle.* Afterwards he'd kept it — it was fun, being able to take a piss if you felt like it. Not to mention you could stir up a lot of trouble in public toilets if you were in a mood.**

"Really?" Aziraphale looked halfway between surprised and intrigued. "Don't you find it a bit — floppy?"

"Eh, a bit," Crowley admitted. "But they do amazing things with underpants these days."

Aziraphale laughed, the startled hiccough he gave sometimes when he wasn't quite ready to be out of his sulk. It was one of Crowley's favorite noises. "Very well," he said, adjusting his waistcoat. "Let's have a look."

"What? No," said Crowley. He'd been looking forward to showing off his cock at some point, but Aziraphale was eyeing him like the Queen about to inspect the troops.

"Why not?" Aziraphale whinged, his lower lip puckering dangerously near a pout. "We're going to have to take our clothes off when we have sex. Unless — actually, I think that's on the list of kinks, you know, sex with your clothes on, but it seems terribly awkward, not to mention you'd have to get everything cleaned afterward. Although I do have a rather good 'dry cleaner,'" he made the inverted commas with his fingers and everything, "Who's an absolute miracle worker." He paused. "Well, not a real one. At any rate, come along." And he gestured at Crowley's crotch.

Crowley, who'd had millennia of practice with Aziraphale's careening monologues, was still halfway through unbuckling his belt before his brain caught up. "I'm not pulling my cock out in the middle of your bookshop," he said — with absolutely perfect timing, since Muriel chose that moment to come bustling in.

They stood frozen for a moment, blinking at both of them as they clutched at the doorframe. "I think I, erm, heard a… noise?" They smiled, and backed out slowly. "I should go. And check, on the noise, because noises are sometimes indicators of—" Whatever else they were saying was lost with the slamming of the door.

"Small mercies," Aziraphale huffed, and wriggled his fingers; the sign on the door flipped to "CLOSED" and the door locked with a pointed flourish. "Now then!"

*Neither of them had, and it had nearly gotten them arrested, all the moreso since they'd been in Spain at the time.

**With or without an anus.

[catmomjudy]

Did Eddie Run Away to the Army?

(Fox Publicity Still)

I commonly see it phrased (in fanfiction and in some posts here) that Eddie “ran away” to the Army.

What does canon say?

In “Eddie Begins” (s3e15), canon states that Eddie “will be back to Afghanistan next week” when they talk with their parents after Christopher is born.

When they are arguing about Eddie’s reenlistment (which he did without telling her), canon also has Shannon saying “I got pregnant, and you signed up. Surprise!”

In s6e16, when they are talking about proposals, Eddie says, “Shannon got pregnant. When she told me the news, I said, ‘We should get married.’ I barely even asked.”

So, it is very clearly canon that Eddie did not enlist until after Shannon discovered that she was pregnant. They got married, and he was already stationed in Afghanistan when Christopher was born. 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 So, how did we get from Civilian Teenager Eddie to PFC Diaz, duty station Afghanistan? Let me tell you a story.

Teenager Shannon absolutely knows she is pregnant the very first day she missed her period. She runs straight into Eddie’s arms and tells him. (That’s the 4 week point of a 40 week pregnancy.)

She and Eddie go down to the courthouse the Very Next Day to get married. That same day, Eddie then goes to a recruitment office.

His recruiting and training process goes through the system “Like Magic,” and he quickly progresses through each of the steps. For 68W (Combat Medic):

Recruitment: 2 weeks

Basic Training: 10 weeks

Advanced Training (AIT): 16 weeks

Prep for deployment: 3 weeks

Total: 31 weeks

(Based on: 68W (Combat Medic) training requirements at goarmy.com; Personal stories and Ask/Answers posted by real soldiers online)

Eddie arrives, duty-bound and healthcare coverage obtained, in Afghanistan, 35 weeks after the stick turned blue.

When Eddie reports to his very first duty station as a PFC (Private First Class, or E3), he asks for leave (“I need to be in Texas in about 4 weeks because we’re having a baby!”), and his very nice commanding officer says, “Why sure PFC Diaz! Let me arrange your military airlift right away!” And off Eddie goes, arriving in El Paso in advance of Christopher’s birth.

It’s a lovely fairy tale, but this is what canon says happened, so we have to accept it as truth. 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 Now, I could tell you all of the ways that this is a TV fantasy. I was in the Navy for 11 years, so I already took it with a grain of salt. I did some poking around (because, as former military, I know that what goes for the Navy doesn’t necessarily go for the Army where it relates to duty assignments), and found various Reddit chats where enlistees were asking questions about recruitment and 68W training, and I skimmed through a bunch of answers to get a general idea of timelines, and then meshed that with my own experience.

The numbers above are an Absolute Minimum. No delays in processing; no wait for the next Basic class start date; no gap after Basic (and no picking up trash and cleaning toilets at Ft. Sam) while awaiting for the next Combat Medic course to start; no leave taken after AIT; and no training or medical period at his first duty station before deployment (and troops are deployed from stateside commands as a group—you don’t just get on a plane and show up in Afghanistan). Eddie would need to take leave and return to Texas for the birth. He would have earned 14 pay periods worth of leave at this point, which would add up to 17.5 days on the books, so he would have enough days to go home for 2-ish weeks. However, he is NOT EVER going to go to Afghanistan and then fly back 4 weeks later. That’s a pipedream. If they’re nice, they’ll keep him stateside and send him for additional training at Ft. Sam Houston (where 68W AIT is held). But, if, as canon states, PFC Eddie is already in Afghanistan, it is highly doubtful that he’d be back for the birth.

And this is even assuming that Teenager Shannon knew she was pregnant on the very first day she missed her period. 🤔 Yeah, probably not.

[This is also not even getting into the fact that, based on the birthdate on her tombstone, by Texas state law, Shannon would have entered kindergarten in September 1998, at the age of almost-six. She would have graduated in 2011 (the year Christopher was born), which would totally turn the above timeline into an unreachable fantasy, unless she and Eddie were in different grades (maybe someone else can figure that bit out). So, we’ll assume she moved to TX from a state that had a December 31 cut-off (which, in the 90s, was most northern states—I’m from PA, and currently live in CT, and, until recently, this was the date in both places), and that Eddie was born sometime before September 1, 1992 (so he could start school in September 1997). Then they would have both graduated in May 2010. There, that fixes it. 😁]

🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 🇦🇫 🇺🇸 So, did Eddie “run away”?

I think, to even make the Fantasy Timeline happen AND result in placement in the career path Eddie chose (because it’s a selective field with a much higher-required ASVAB score and more training requirements than other high-demand fields like Infantryman), he needed to have been considering it anyway. The military is a really good choice for a boy (or girl) from Texas who doesn’t want to go to college right now, but wants to learn job skills and earn college benefits. If he already was thinking about it, he would already know that the military dependent health benefits (and housing benefits) are pretty darn good. Not perfect, but then, no insurance plan is these days (I could tell you a story about where I, active military, gave birth, vs. the jacuzzi-equipped birthing suite my coworker’s military dependent wife got to use, but this is already too long).

Viewer opinion of Eddie’s enlistment in the Army is very much colored by his memories of Shannon in “Eddie Begins” (see quotes, above), and their argument in “Haunted” (s2e07–and, yes, I did notice that it’s a Ghost Title 😁).

Eddie: What did you need that I didn't give you?

Shannon: You! I needed a husband and a co-parent. And instead, all I got was a life alone in Texas with a baby and you on another continent. I needed someone to have my back.

Eddie: I always had your back.

Shannon: No. You were in Afghanistan.

It’s also colored by civilian opinions on and stereotypes of military personnel and military life.

Military people have families. Many of them have children and good, solid marriages. They rotate back and forth between stateside and forward deployment, so they aren’t always gone (except when there’s an actual war, like in the early 20-teens, so bad timing for Eddie). During peacetime, you don’t deploy over and over again without being assigned to what the Navy calls “Shore Duty” without volunteering for it, usually in writing. Career military people enter service and stick around for 20 years, because the benefits are good, and the retirement pay is good, too. Retiring on half pay at age 38 is not a horrible thing.

Eddie’s fatal character flaw is not that he ran away: It’s that he internalizes his decisions, and makes knee-jerk decisions without discussing them with anyone. Join the Army. Reenlist. Move to LA. Leave the 118. Yep. And I can see why Shannon was royally ticked off. He should have talked with her, but, really, I’m thinking the conclusion would have been the same in the end—she just would have felt better about it. Having your child diagnosed with a major health issue is NOT the time to lose your health insurance, even briefly. If they talked, they could have discussed Eddie rotating stateside at his next opportunity—duty station assignment doesn’t align with enlistment period, after all—closer to Shannon’s mother. A compromise.

I guess what really annoys me is when people use Eddie “running away to the Army” to justify Shannon’s actions (even, or especially, when Eddie says this himself). Eddie’s military service gained him health benefits for his pregnant wife and subsequent child, and health coverage for that same child; he went home on leave when able; and he video-chatted with his wife and child routinely. As Eddie says in s3e15: “I was in Afghanistan, not Cancun.”

Let’s not compare that with Shannon ghosting her own child for two years. Per s2e07, this is also canon, folks.

There’s a reason for the Ghost-themed title, after all.

P.S. I know I’m going to take flack for this one, but “Who Cares?”

🤷🏻‍♀️

[shapeshiftinterest]

mario fanfiction prompts: bowser x luigi (PART 4)

based on bad luck/ friday the 13th

luigi loses his ID in a different kingdom during an adventure and bowser's his only transportation, possible deal making/ owing favors

bowser's or one of his kids' clown cars breaks down and they have to get help from luigi (and mario if you include him), owing him a favor

bowser and luigi get cursed together, luigi's clumsier than usual because of nerves and keeps bumping into things/ accidentally hurting himself, bowser doesn't get the boo boos but he feels every hit

something goes wrong with the koopa castle's/ ship's plumbing, they have to call the bros, mario's doing another job so luigi shows up

-it's a big job and troops/ bowser's kids keep destroying what he fixed (on purpose or by accident) and he has to keep coming back

someone runs out of toilet paper while the people they're living with are out

after a series of poor date experiences either bowser or luigi go on a last ditch blind date, the person never shows up, bowser/ luigi sits down with them and pretends that they were late

either bowser or luigi keeps losing races during mario kart, the other awkwardly tries to cheers them up

either bowser or luigi accidentally summons the other, my idea for this was that if luigi summons bowser then bowser's king of the demons, and if bowser summons luigi then luigi was meant as some kind of warrior against the other kingdoms or a romantic partner

- maybe mario and luigi found a book and were doing it as a joke but luigi got a paper cut and it got on the summoning circle thing, so that's why bowser likes him more/ listens to and tries to make a deal with luigi instead of mario - maybe luigi was drawing or crocheting for funsies and accidentally made a summoning pattern - maybe bowser's troops/ kids summoned luigi, hoping it'd be another princess on equal standards as peach so that their boss/ dad would get over her but now they have luigi (he ends up being cool tho)

that thing where you accidentally trip and kiss/ kabedon the other (if bowser trips on luigi they either topple over or luigi catches him cuz strong)

bowser texts a flirt to the wrong number (luigi's)

luigi confesses to the wrong number (bowser's) because he was too nervous to do it in person

bowser and luigi are text friends and go to meet in real life only to find out it was the other, some accusations and misunderstandings happen (you were tricking me! just to see me vulnerable1 that's low, even for you)

mario pretends to be peach (super crown power up + hair dye), gets captured by bowser, but it ends up that bowser captured 'her' to ask for advice on how to hit on luigi and now mario's not sure how to react (personally i think he'd be confused and weirded out but supportive)

bowser surprise attacks peach's room, captures her, and immediately marries her in the dark; it was either luigi in disguise (a trap) or luigi and peach switched rooms because of a normal reason (it's getting renovated from the last attack)

bowser gets a bad haircut from a new hairdresser and luigi's one of the only ones who can fix it cuz they know that the plumber has pride in his own grooming

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6

[girlactionfigure]

With the permission of the mourning families, IDF Spokesman Daniel Hagari takes you into the tunnel where six Israeli hostages were executed, murdered in cold blood by Hamas terrorists.

Hostages Hersh Goldberg-Polin, Eden Yerushalmi, Ori Danino, Alex Lobanov, Carmel Gat, and Almog Sarusi were believed to have been killed in the tunnel by their captors on August 29, before being discovered by troops around two days later.

The tunnel was a small 120-meter-long passageway that connected parts of a large underground network in the Tel Sultan neighborhood, which according to the IDF belonged to Hamas's Rafah Brigade. The tunnel network was one of the largest underground complexes found by the army in Gaza to date.

Inside the tunnel, located some 20 meters underground, the IDF found food and equipment that it assessed were used by the Hamas terrorists and the Israeli hostages to survive underground for extended periods, at least several weeks. Among the items were dried food, water, a makeshift toilet, mattresses, and assault rifle magazines.

The military says it did not have any concrete or real-time intelligence on the six hostages being held there, but had general indications that Israeli abductees could be in the neighborhood, and therefore had operated carefully above ground and even more so underground. 

On August 30 the IDF discovered a tunnel shaft, which had been blocked up by Hamas. A day later on August 31, troops managed finally to enter the tunnel, where they discovered a locked blast door. Later in the day, the bodies of the six were found, and by early on September 1, they were extracted and brought to Israel for identification and burial.

Also on August 30, the IDF said troops killed two Hamas gunmen who attempted to flee from the tunnel complex area. Their bodies were taken to Israel to run DNA testing to determine if they were the terrorists who killed the six hostages. The IDF believes that the six were killed by at least two terrorists.

Two days before the six hostages were murdered, on August 27, the IDF rescued hostage Farhan al-Qadi from a tunnel — part of the same network — located less than 700 meters away. There was no direct passage between the tunnel where al-Qadi was found and the bodies of the six hostages, as Hamas had blocked the route.

The video taken by IDF Spokesman Rear Adm. Daniel Hagari was shown to the families in recent days, as well as to members of the Israeli cabinet.

[babygirl-riley]

Change of Plans Pt 2

You have been with Shadow Company for a couple of months. When you get orders to help with Los Varqueros and 141.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I got very sick with some cold flu thingggg. But here is the 2nd part of Change of Plans. 👀

Taglist:

@glitteryeggalmondherring @notyourlittlesunshine

“Swtichin’ the positions for you. Cookin’ in the kitchen and I’m in the bedroom.”

Warnings: talks of violance, not too bad of angst, fluff, smut, reuniting sex, quick sex, PiV, swearing, soft!simon, former141!reader, shadow!reader

Pt. I Pt.III

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You anxiously waited on the plane as you landed on Alejandro’s base. When you heard his voice, your body reacted immediately. Your heart fluttered and your pussy clenched. You haven’t seen him in months, you haven’t seen your old team in months. “Remember this is business first. After that, you can say ya hellos.” Graves said smiling at you.

He knew that with your former team, you were all close. So once he told you that they were working along side 141, he saw the gleam in your eyes. “Yes sir.” You said smiling at him as you felt the air craft land.

Graves patted your shoulder as the doors opened. Your heart pounding in your chest as you followed him out. “I have to meet them where they have Hassan,” You frowned as you walked next to him. Graves turned to you. “Don’t worry kiddo they will be back here soon. Just stay with the men and get them acquainted with Alejandro’s men,” You nodded stopping in your tracks he kept walking before he stopped and turned to you. “Also make sure we get a tour of the base.”

“Yes sir.” You said as you watched him walk towards a humvee.

Disappointment surrounded your chest to your mind. You were excited to see all of them, especially Simon. You have been thinking about where he has been, if he was alright. All the 9 yards of missing someone you love. You inhaled as one of your team mates came behind you asking for instructions. “Hello Lieutenant,” You turned to face one of Alejandro’s men. “My name is Rudy, Alejandro wanted me to come back to see if there is anything I can do.”

You smiled and reached your hand out. “Just call me y/n. I am hoping we won’t be here long enough to be too comfortable Rudy.”

He smiled in response. “As would I hope as well,” He paused and gestured out towards the base. “Come on let me show you around.”

Rudy was a nice solider, he was respectful and kind. He talked highly on his Commander and his troops. He would smile and crack some jokes around that made you even laugh at times. You really enjoyed him, seemed like he would be someone you would get along with. He made sure there was a barrack that your men would sleep in however, you and Graves had separate rooms. He stated that the higher ranking officers have their own space.

It took a couple of hours to tour the whole base which eventually turned dark. You thanked Rudy as you excused yourself to bark more orders to the men. Have some routine going, making sure that they had rest and tasks to do. You rolled your shoulders as you watched your men move from one end to another, helping Alejandro’s men with tasks.

“Sargent,” You yelled as one of your men’s head turned. “I am going to freshen up, I will be out here at 0400 keep the men in line!”

He nodded as he turned to another solider talking to him. You inhaled deeply as you walked back into the base. Walking past rooms and hallways, you were tired. Beat tired. Graves and Shepard have been on high alert for a while, reasoning? You didn’t know, it made you on high alert as well. More stressed and more duties that Graves made sure to give you. Making sure that all the men were properly accounted and trained.

You opened the door that was your temporary room. It had one bed and a dresser, it was a white room with no window. It did have a bathroom, when you looked inside it just had the sink, toilet, and shower. You thought it was a good place and happy as hell that you didn’t have to share showers. Your bag was already in the room as you started to unzip the bag.

You started to take your gear off placing them on the dresser, neatly. You have always been particular on how your gear was laid out. Due to your first Captain, snapping his men on how your equipment should be handled. You started to unbutton your pants until your door had a knock.

God damn it, the Sargent better not have fucked up something. He always had since you joined and it made your blood boil. You stomped to the door. “I swear to fucking god Olsen if you,” You opened it to lay eyes on a much bigger and taller man but what made him distinctive was the skull mask. You shut your mouth as your body relaxed. “Simon.” You whispered.

Simon stepped forward as you backed up silently accepting him into the room. He shut the door and locked it, he walked up to you and placed his hands on both sides of your face. “Fuck ya have no idea how much I missed ya,” He whispered placing his forehead against yours. You leaned into his hands. “I want to hear everythin’, how you been. However, I really needed you right now.”

Your heart fluttered as you places your arms around his neck. Tippy toeing to his ear. “I need you too Simon please.”

That’s all it took, his mask ripped off and thrown somewhere as he latched his lips on yours. It was a heated and neediness kiss, pent up months of not being around each other. Your skin burned of wanting to be touched by him. “Clothes off.” You mumbled in between kisses.

He smiled against your lips. “Get all promoted now makin’ you demanding love?” He asked as he kissed down your jaw to your neck. He started to lift his sweatshirt to take it off as you lift up your shirt. You both desperately ripped off your clothes just to feel each others skin. You moaned as he backed you up to the small bed. “Oh shut it Riley.” You teased, he chuckled lowly as he hovered over you kissing down your body.

You bite your lower lip as he sucked and bites your skin. You moaned as you rolled your hips up. “Si please, I just need your cock now.”

Simon chuckled as he crawled back up to you. “No foreplay doll?”

You shook your head, you placed your hand on his cheek. He leaned into it kissing your palm, his beautiful brown eyes looking at you. “No please Simon.”

Simon pulled his boxers off and gripped your panties. You lifted your hips up so they were easily pulled off. You both were so quick and needy, both of you not teasing each other about it. Simon wanted you so bad that it was driving him absolutely insane. All the frustration and anxiety of the situation with Hassan. Have both of you in a tense feeling, needing it to be released.

You watched as he pumped his cock, precum coming out of his tip. You will never forget how large he was, his length was average but his girth was what made him hard to fit in. Made it feel fucking better than your fingers. You licked your lips as he looked down at you. “Ya lookin’ at it likes it’s candy.” He teased as he leaned down, guiding his cock towards your entrance.

“It’s my personal can…” Before you could finish he pushed in, making you gasp. Simon groaned, feeling how tight you were. He looked down as he watched his cock being sucked more na more in. Your pussy fitting him like his cock was made there. God how you missed the stretch that he made with his cock. Love to watch his cock fit into so perfectly, like god made you just for him.

Your mouth was left agape as he kept pushing more in. “Relax babygirl I have-fuck…I have ya.” He whispered, as he felt you slowly taking him in, relaxing more and more until he settled near your cervix. “God you take me so well. So fucking beautiful. All fucking mine.”

You moaned feeling him settle more inside. You loved how it felt being so full and warm when he was inside you. You both sat there for a minute panting, taking in the moment. Simon placed his forehead against yours, looking in your eyes. You placed both of your hands on his cheeks rubbing your thumb up and down his cheek bone. “I missed you.” He whispered leaning down to kiss you.

You kissed him back, it was gentle and passionate. His tongue dancing with yours, you gasped as he pulled all the way out and snapped back into you. At first his hips movements were slow, taking his time, with hard thrusts. Making sure you were ready for the hard pace he was going to do. You mewled as you gripped his shoulders kissing him.

“You feel so good Si,” You whimpered hooking both of your legs around his waist. “Need-ah-I need you to go harder-faster please.”

Simon grunted as he started to pick up speed. Which made you gasp, Simon smirked and kissed down your neck. “God-‘ve missed the way you moan my name sweeathear’.”

He placed his forehead against yours as he rutted into you more. The room sounding obscene, both of your skin slapping against one another, moans and grunts filling the air. God you missed this, missed Simon. Missed being this close to him. Miss feeling his skin. His breath. You could feel your orgasm building up, Simon’s cock hitting the right sponge spot.

“Oh fuck.” You whined squeezing your eyes shut. Scratching your fingers down his tattooed arm. Gripping it at the end. You felt his thumb placed on your lips making your eyes open.

“Keep ya eyes on me,” He grunted sitting up more and gripping your hips. “I want to see you cum around my cock. Cum-Ugh…cum with me.”

You gasped loudly as you opened your eyes, his face contorting to pleasure. His lips parted as his grunts left his mouth. The sweat that built on his forehead. The sweat layering his body. You loved his scars, his toned body. Fuck, it made him look like a fucking god. You inhaled deeply as you let out a high pitch moan, your orgasm hitting you like a train. Your hand went to grab the back of his neck as your other hand went to your clit. Rubbing fast as the pace his cock going in and out of you.

Simon growled as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. Milking him for all his worth. His spine shot up with pleasure as he felt his balls empty into your pussy. Coating your walls with his seman, he thought of his cum traveling into you. Simon placed his head in the space between your shoulder and your side of your head. Groaning lowly, he twitched when you rubbed your fingers lightly up and down his back.

Simon was still inside you feeling his cock soften inside. “I missed you so much,” You whispered raking your fingers up through his dirty blonde hair. “Thought wasn’t going to see you for a while.”

Simon hummed lifting his head up to look at you. God he thought you were just an angel, the thin sweat layered against your skin, your beautiful eyes that he couldn’t stop staring at. It made him lost into it. Never did he think that he would feel empty without having someone near. Having you near. Simon thought the last time he saw you would be the last. At least for a long time. Yet you are here. With him.

“Same here love,” He whispered bringing up his hand to brush a strand of hair away. “I’m just happy to see ya here.”

You smiled as you kissed him softly. Feeling his soft lips against yours. He rolled off of you, still having his dick inside, and placed your head in his chest. Simon sighed as he played with your hair, soothing both of you to sleep.

[where-no-suns-ever-rise]

ik he's not the fandom darling or whatever but ngl i'm such a travis girlie. man's brooding game is out of this world. he's a cyborg. he serves servalan like a loyal dog but also hates her guts. their relationship is super charged but nothing sexual or romantic actually happens, unless you count that time when she turned his arm into a bomb. he's obsessed with blake and it's pathetic. he gets attached to his troops, then forces himself to discard them and acts like it's all cool and fine. they describe him as 'hard' and when prompted to add 'but fair' they're like, nah not really. he's sent to the brainwashing camp and comes out just as unhinged but now whiter. he gets sued for war crimes and his defense is that he did it. there's an episode where he wears a dumb cowboy hat. all this build up of rivalry and it ends with him getting flushed down the interdimensional toilet. wtf was his deal. we'll never know.

[yutafrita]

An Angel, My Angel, and Me- TWO

navigation… preview /// one /// two /// three

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Fallen Angel!Sungchan x Reader (she/her)

W.C: 5.3k

[feat. Soyeon, Yangyang, and Shotaro]

Genre: fake married, fluff, mild angst, romcom

Warnings: Depictions and discussions of throwing up, sexual discussions and innuendos, swearing, religious imagery and discussions (primarily Catholic), mentions of angelic law enforcement and prison, mentions and of and depictions of food and eating.

CHAPTER TWO- WHY DID I GET (FAKE) MARRIED?

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

The rest of your grocery trip was silent as you wallowed in self pity and maneuvered the cart on autopilot. You forgot to grab lentils, but Sungchan seemed to know it was best to not point this out.

Sungchan was sweet enough to hold your hair back while you threw up once you got back to your apartment.

“I’m so sorry,” you were mortified. You sat on your ass on the floor of your bathroom, your throat burning, eyes swelling with tears, and cheeks hot to the touch. “I-I just needed a name for my interview and I just saw you that day and-.”

“Hey-.”

“And I couldn’t even talk at the grocery store- it was my worst fucking nightmare!”

“Hey-.”

“I froze! I can’t believe I just froze like that! I can’t believe that!”

“Hey!” Sungchan raised his voice higher so he could properly interject your frantic speech. He swiped his hands across your cheek to help wipe away your tears, and you couldn’t help the embarrassment you felt. “Do you remember when ‘Eerie’ ate your hair tie and was super sick?”

“Yeah, I took you to the vet after you threw up all day and night. I stayed up for like, three days straight.”

“So, if I know you have my back, why wouldn’t I have yours?”

“Well, I thought,” you blew your nose into a piece of toilet paper before continuing, “I thought you were my cat.”

“I’ve also seen you be there for your friends whenever they come down with something,” he pointed, keeping your hair tucked back. “You take care of others, so, I’ll help take care of you.”

You furrowed your brow, “what do you mean?”

He chuckled a bit before clearing his throat, “I mean- you can keep up the facade of us being married. I’ll do whatever you need, if you want.”

********

Playing married consisted of a few things. First on your list, you and Sungchan took a few pictures on your phone so you could have it as your wallpaper for all your devices. Second thing was getting one of said pictures printed out to keep at your desk at work so you weren’t the only employee without a photo of your spouse.

The last thing though was the hardest- it was trying to figure out how to tell your family. 

Your grandmother had taken to calling you every other day to pressure you, as well as chatting casually with Sungchan. You swear she liked him more than she liked you.

“I was thinking,” you popped out from your room already dressed in your work clothes, holding the thin gold chain you never wore. “Maybe wearing something I own might help mask you in public. So you can leave without needing me.”

Your line of thinking was, if Sungchan was able to hide in your apartment without being found by the troop, then maybe he didn’t need you around at all time to stay safe. You wanted him to have some semblance of independence. 

Sungchan turned around, spatula in hand as he furrowed his eyebrow. He was in the midst of cooking pancakes, and the faint hint of smoke reminded him of this before he turned back to face the stove and flip them.

“Are you kicking me out?” 

“What? Of course not. I just figured you’d want actual independence even though you’re on the lam.”

“On the what?”

“On the lam? Running from the troops?” You elaborated. Sungchan had yet to disclose more information on the warrant for his arrest, but you hadn’t really pressed much. You guys had a solid cohabitating, co-existing, thing going on and you really didn’t want to push your luck.

Sungchan slipped the pancakes onto the two plates he had set up before turning to face you. He seemed hesitant, and you wanted to further assuage his nerves. 

“I… I think you’d like not having to rely on me to go around on your own.”

He seemed to mull it over before nodding and adding, “I haven’t been able to fly in a while.”

“Then it’s settled- try leaving the apartment while I’m at work and text me how it goes, and of course don’t get caught,” you moved closer then, holding the chain for him to see. You had gotten him a simple phone to use so you both could more easily communicate, and he seemed pleased with the device. 

You kicked over your step stool as Sungchan turned back around. He tucked his wings slightly to give you easier access as you clipped the small chain around his neck. You never really wore it, but from the small glint it gave as it now sat on the collar of the Fallen Angel, it felt like it was really meant for him. 

Standing slightly above him now, you looked closely at his wings. They were mostly black, with glints of gold and gray splattered at random places. The wings spanned across his back, stopping just at his calf, and the feathers looked insanely soft.

“Everything okay?” Sungchan’s question snapped you back to reality.

“Um.. can I ask something?”

“Yeah!” he turned back around, a smile on his face. He loved asking you questions, so it was as if he was excited to answer something for you.

“Can,” you sighed, embarrassed but still painfully curious, “can I touch your wings?”

He raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the question.

“Sorry, I’m just really nosy,” you admitted, scratching the back of your neck.

“Y-yeah, go ahead,” he turned his back to you again, “I don’t think they’re anything special, though.”

You scoffed lightly before gently raising your hand, and caressing one of his wings. It was softer than anything you had ever touched before, and for a moment you swore the entire world went silent as you felt just how delicate they were. You caressed them again, before you heard Sungchan’s breath hitch and then a small whine followed before your whole body froze.

“Sungchan, are you okay?” you removed your hand, confused by his reaction. On the back of his neck and ears you could see his skin turning red. You stepped down from your position of height, stepping back to grab the pancake syrup before noting that Sungchan still hadn’t moved. 

“Are you embarrassed or something?” you were joking, but the angel looked over his shoulder and wings to glare at you, his whole face now tinted in red. 

“Wings are… really…  sensitive,” he admitted, emphasizing sensitive heavily before it clicked. He hadn’t turned around yet because he was hiding what you accidentally caused.

“Oh shoot I’m gonna be late for work,” you lied, ignoring the breakfast and rushing out of the apartment with your work bag and phone. You wanted to think as little about the accidental arousal you caused to your roommate, and forced yourself to ignore it as you took the train to work.

Eyes wandering, you saw someone you hadn’t seen since you graduated.

“Shotaro?” you murmured, maneuvering around the half empty cart and sitting next to the individual somewhat responsible for your current predicament. “Oh my god, it is you.”

“Oh,” he smiled, raising his head from the phone he was previously buried in, “hi! How are your Angels?”

“I-,” you looked around, making sure no one else on the train was listening in, “I don’t have any Angels. I just so happen to live with two,” and one of them you haven’t heard from in several weeks.

“Ah, of course,” he chuckled, looking around as the train met one of its stops, depositing and receiving new ride goers, “so you haven’t figured it out, yet?”

“What I am and what you are? No,” you admitted. You were mostly waiting on Soyeon at this point, who still hadn’t answered any of your texts. You were still almost distraught to see Shotaro so casual about everything. He may have been your classmate for a while who’s known about angels, the fact that your world was upside down and he seemed totally fine was grinding your gears.

“Hm, well, this stop is where I head out,” he then took out a small strip of paper and pen from his pocket, and wordlessly scribbled something down before handing it to you, “when you have a good guess, give me a text,” and with that, Shotaro slipped out from his seat and out onto the train station, leaving you in the dust.

There weren’t any angels at your job, as far as you could tell. The magazine took over an entire floor of an obnoxiously large business building, and you waved hello to the entrance secretary as you walked in. Today you had an early meeting with the head of marketing and a few others, so while you were prepping a bagel from the communal kitchen, you were also speaking to another coworker about how you were both not excited about it.

“I saw the agenda… it really could just be an email,” Yangyang groaned before seeming to check out the kitchen for something.

You were quietly eating your bagel before Yangyang prompted you, “so, no one else has noticed that you’re married to an angel?”

You choked on your food before coughing violently, allowing you to then swallow the glob. “I’m not married to an angel! Are you crazy?”

“Please, I’m a warlock, it’s fine,” he raised his open palm, a small bloom of fire appearing before vanishing in an instant. “I knew as soon as you added that picture to your desk.”

So, you didn’t work with any angels, but you did work with a warlock. Apparently.

“I guess it makes sense, now your kids will be ¾ angels- more advanced nephilim. They might even have properly formed wings. That’s pretty cool.”

You frowned, now abandoning your bagel onto the countertop, “I don’t understand the words you just said.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, “nephilim? A halfie?”

“Is… is that a slur?”

“No dude, you’re half angel. That’s why your shielding abilities are so strong.”

“Words. More words I don’t understand,” you were in a daze now, staring blankly at the warlock. He chuckled instead, looking at the watch on his wrist before standing tall.

“Well, our meeting is in fifteen, so I’ll let you chill out before that.”

“You’re the worst coworker ever.”

“Oh please,” he rolled his eyes before slipping out and leaving you in your mental fog.

Sungchan🐈‍⬛ [sent at 11:55AM]: omg!!! Guess!!! What!!!

Sungchan🐈‍⬛ [sent at 11:55AM]: \(๑•́o•̀๑)/

You [sent at 4:43PM]: sorry, i was busy all day

You [sent at 4:44PM]: what’s up?

You are indeed busy all day, but every time you looked at his text you couldn’t help but be reminded of your small accident this morning. Plus, the sudden knowledge that you were a nephilim wasn’t helping. Knowing, though, that you had strong shielding abilities, it began to make sense why Sungchan was able to hide from the troops so well with you around.

Sungchan🐈‍⬛ [sent at 4:45PM]: working hard!! That’s great!

Sungchan🐈‍⬛ [sent at 4:45PM]: Guess who walked around on their own today without being attacked by the troops

Sungchan 🐈‍⬛[sent at 4:46PM]: 😁😁😁

You [sent at 5:05PM]: omg! That’s amazing news 🥳

Sungchan 🐈‍⬛ [5:07PM]: i felt your aura or whatever fade after an hour so I raced back to the apartment 🏃🏃🏃 

Sungchan 🐈‍⬛[5:13PM]: but yay!!!!!!!!

You were walking back to your apartment now from the train station, but you were excited to hear more about Sungchan’s one hour adventure. It would be nice to hear something with a net positive before telling him what Yangyang had shared with you. You slipped your shoes off as you entered the apartment, and immediately noticed the arrangement of wildflowers in a bowl atop the coffee table in the living room. Setting your bag down at the dining table, you noticed the complimentary bowl of wildflowers at the center of this table. They were arranged with care, and brought life to the small space. 

“Sungchan?” You called, noting how quiet the apartment was. 

With no response back, you opened your bedroom door, and saw the man had turned himself back into a cat and was sleeping at the center of your bed. 

“Sungchan?” You called, confused by his choice to return to his cat form. Without warning, the cat figure changed back into his angel form, rubbing his tired eyes. “You were texting me like, ten minutes ago? How can you manage to fall sleep that fast?”

“I got to fly after years of not being able to. I guess it tuckered me out.”

“And why did you sleep in your cat form?”

“It’s called a cat nap for a reason,” he responded as if it was obvious, and you did not have it in you to kill this adorable belief of his.

“How was it to be able to fly freely?”

“Oh,” he collapsed on the bed, a wide smile on his face as his wings took up the full span of your bed, “it was incredible.”

You could only imagine the immeasurable joy he had to feel. To have been cooped up for so long to then be able to finally spread his literal wings and soar. To be weightless. You were a bit envious of this part. However, what you couldn’t stomach was him having to realize he had to return, that the feeling of freedom was simply a facade. Here he was, back in your apartment. He was safe, yes, but still hiding in a small space.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you settled on, still standing by your doorframe. He popped off the bed then, a spring in his step as he fully stretched his body and wings out. “Thanks for the flowers by the way, they’re really lovely.”

He smiled, his eyes shutting with pricks of joy, “I thought of you when I saw them, I’m glad you like them,” his face turned slightly more serious then, “So, when are you telling your Mom?”

You scoffed in response, bringing your fingers to your temples to keep yourself sane. “I don’t know how I’m going to even broach that.”

“Hm, I could meet her over dinner? I have met her before already, in a way.”

“No- Eerie met my Mom when she visited, and she hated him.”

“Well, now I won’t be a cat sifting through her purse for candy. I’ll be a normal dude who she’ll love so much she won’t be as angry about her only kid deciding randomly to get married.”

You bit down on your bottom lip before replying, “we need to be convincing.”

“What?” he was staring blankly at you now, not understanding your stress.

“She’ll need to believe that we’re so disgustingly in love or else she’s going to think I married you because you forced me to,” you explained. Your mother was fiercely observant, so telling her you were married was going to set off alarm bells. You would need to force her to see you being so dumb in love that she believes you.

“We can do that,” Sungchan extended his hand to you then, and you looked back confused before he added, “we’ll have to practice at least holding hands to pull it off.”

You frowned, “yeah,” you then let your own fingers meet his before joining them. His hands were warm, and a sense of calm wafted through your whole being. “We’ll just practice, basic couple things I guess.”

“Has she met any of your past partners?” he asked, reaching forward again and now holding both of your hands.

“In high school, but no one passed that point,” you admitted, keeping your gaze on his chest. You were just in shock by the overwhelming calm you felt holding his hands, the one thing that made you nervous was the thought of meeting his gaze.

“Wow, I guess that makes me special then,” he chuckled, and at this you jokingly and softly shoved his shoulder. “Seriously, though, for you I will try really hard.”

“... thanks. My Mom is really great. I don’t want to freak her out too much,” you confessed, your eyes finally landing on Sungchan’s as your other hand moved to rest on his shoulder while his now free hand sat on your hip.

 Fuck. 

His eyes were beautiful- soft speckles of honeygold melting into the browns of his iris, all surrounding the large dilation of his pupils. Your hand on his shoulder was dangerously close to his wings, and you were trying to not remember the incident from earlier this morning. The nervous way he had whimpered when your fingers kissed his feathers, it sent butterflies shooting through your stomach.

“This is just practice,” Sungchan muttered, more to himself than to you. You tilted your head, confused as you saw him observing your face with an intent you had never noticed before. His plump lips were slightly parted as he gazed down at your own lips, and you suddenly felt frozen under his gaze. His lips looked so plump and soft, and the way they glistened you knew he had been borrowing your lip balm when you weren’t looking. You felt an electricity run between the two of you. This was something you needed to do to convince people of your relationship… right?

“Yep, this is just practice,” you emphasized, your voice in a hushed tone before shyly leaning closer towards the angel. He met your lips the instant he noticed you shift closer to him, his lips perfectly slotting your own. They were just as soft as you had hoped, and you hooked both your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. His hands met at your lower back, pushing you closer to him as his tongue slid into past your lips and gilded with your tongue. He held you so tightly, your bodies intertwined with only the desperate noises you both released reminding you that you were not one singular being.

The front door slamming open was what drove you two apart. 

“Guys!!! I’m back!” Soyeon’s voice forced you back to reality, and you shot a look of surprise at Sungchan before racing out to meet her.

God… what the hell just happened? You couldn’t believe you went so insane that you made out with Sungchan. 

The guardian angel was holding several binders in her hand, all neatly labeled and alphabetized. She set them onto the coffee table before wrapping you in a tight embrace. You were still mad at Soyeon for not telling you the truth after all these years, but you were happy to have your best friend back so she could give you some advice on whatever the fuck was happening with you.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” You puffed out after you hugged her back. 

“What makes you think heaven has cell phone signal?” She asked, letting you go before glaring at something over your shoulder. 

“Welcome back, guardian,” Sungchan greeted, earning a scoff from Soyeon.

“I guess I was right to plan for him still being here,” Soyeon grumbled before grabbing the thinnest binder from the top of her pile. It was aptly named Sungchan’s crimes and defense.

“Did you run a background check on m?” He went to open the binder only for Soyeon to swat his hand away. 

“Yes- but that’s so I can figure out how to get your crimes excused by the troop,” Soyeon then opened the binder herself, and flitted to a a divided section in the middle. “Honestly, Sungchan, why did you never get a guardian defense lawyer? I know I could do it, so if someone with more skill-.”

“I didn’t want to go to trial,” Sungchan lost all color from his face, his wings tucked tightly to him as if trying to soothe himself. “I-I… I can’t stand before their jury.”

“Dude, you just stole-.”

“I didn’t steal them. I was taking them back to the people they were stolen from,” Sungchan cut through Soyeon’s statement. “Those items were robbed from humans in that community eons ago and put up as a trophy in the library of Alexandria. We as guardians had no right to keep it.”

Your eyes were wide as you analyzed Sungchan’s statements and the anger he seemed to be holding. He was always so peppy and eager, seeing him be downright pissed off was not something you ever expected from the fallen angel.

He met your gaze, “I’m gonna give you two some time. I’ll be back.”

Sungchan had stepped out, and after a few seconds, Soyeon asked, “so what the fuck have I missed?”

*******

In about thirty minutes, you managed to give Soyeon an abridged version of events, even being sure to include what she walked into.

“Wow… I can’t believe you gave him that gold chain your grandma bought you,” she breathed out, leaning back on the couch. “I asked you to borrow it once and I swear you almost killed me.”

“Can you even kill an Angel?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she taunted. It was quiet a bit before you both awkwardly looked around and away from each other. 

It was you who broke the silence, “are you only my friend because you’re my guardian angel?”

“No… I… I’m only your guardian angel because I’m your friend,” she sighed, “I was sent to the human world for my guardian training and… well your previous guardian angel was useless. I started doing his work and ended up just taking his job.”

You leaned back on the couch, taking this information in. 

“As your friend,” she sighed, seeming to carefully think over her words before placing a binder on your lap, “I think you should read through what this has to say.”

Soyeon left you alone as you opened the thin binder. The first page made you squint- the bright light the wanted poster naturally emitted burning your eyes for a moment before you adjusted.

“INFORMAL NAME: SUNGCHAN

ANGELIC/ FORMAL NAME: JUNG SUNGCHAN

STATUS: FALLEN

WANTED BY: SAINT GEORGE, THE HOLY TROOPS

REASON(S): ROBBING PROTECTED SACRED TEXTS (details below) FROM THE HOLY LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA. GIVING AND OR SELLING OF PROTECTED SACRED TEXT TO UNSANCTIONED HUMAN COMMUNITY. 

ADDITIONAL DETAIL(S): Protected Sacred Text includes blasphemous “holy” text that contains idolatry previously worshiped by local human community. Accused was formally a guardian assigned to protect the local community and was tempted by local idolatry into betraying the trinity.

IF FOUND: Bring to closest Troop members. The accused is to stand trial before a mixed jury of disciples, and Guardians. ”

The following page was a normal sheet of paper that had a short handwritten paragraph in Soyeon’s neat scrawl.

“NOTES: Considering the worst he could actually be convicted with is temptation and theft, the argument is just that he was overwhelmed by human emotions by being the only angel in the area for so long. The text, while protected, is not actually sacred by angelic  means. As long as he retrieves the books as penance, he would be forgiven super easily. He didn’t do anything horrible as a guardian as far as I could see.”

“He shouldn’t have to bring the books back,” you found yourself saying out loud, looking up to see Soyeon’s pained expression. She seemed . “It wasn’t the libraries to have in the first place… they stole it. He returned it.”

She looked down, her face wearing a downcast expression, “I know. I know that. But…” she met your eyes again, “if he wants to be free, that’ll be the best way to do it.”

“There’s no way for him to stand trial without the books? Is the best way the only way?”

She took the binder from your hand, and flitted between the two pages before looking back, “he can stand trial without them. If that’s what he wants and what you want… I’ll defend him,” she shut the binder before a confident look appeared on her face, “if I can win this case… I’ll be legendary, dude. Tell me what he says- I’ll have to prepare either way.”

********

You stared blankly at the door now in front of you. It was an old oak door that your Mom had been needing to change the hinges on for the past few years. The wood wore old scratches from debris and marks that exposed its age, you had to push it roughly due to it swelling over the years, and a placard underneath the peephole had your last name that was fading.

“Should we knock?” Sungchan’s question made you jump slightly. You didn’t realize you were glaring at the door until that moment. You cleared your throat to try and cover for it.

Sungchan was still trying to reach a decision on what he should do, but in the meantime he insisted you needed to do the one thing you had been wanting to avoid for as long as possible. 

You knocked on the door, taking in a deep breath as you both now quietly waited for her approaching steps.

“What if she sees your wings?” you aired the question you had been repeating for the past few hours. If your birth father was really an angel, then there was a chance your mother knew of angels and would immediately be able to see what Sungchan really was. While she never mentioned seeing Soyeon’s wings all these years, how would she react to Sungchan’s?

“You know your mom best- you’ll know what to do if she does,” he soothed, reaching forward and squeezing your hand. The two of you had avoided talking about the kiss you shared before Soyeon’s return, and didn’t want to poke at the issue further. 

Still, as his hand squeezed yours you couldn’t help the butterflies that puttered in your stomach.

The door swung open and your Mom for once was speechless. She looked between you, your hand that now bore a large ring, and the man whom the hand was now attached to. 

It took her a few seconds before she placed her hand to her chest and started laughing.

“Oh, wow! What a way to prank your Mother!” she lightly shoved your shoulder as she continued laughing, taking the flowers Sungchan had extended towards her. “You want to prank me as you introduce this boy to me? You’re so silly sweetie.”

You were both staring ahead in confusion as your mother continued her boisterous laughter, her back towards you both as she maneuvered into the house. With a shrug, and a resolve to get this over with, you moved forward into your family home with Sungchan in tow who closed the door behind you.

“Mom-,” you called, walking into the living room to see your mother setting the flowers into a vase, “I- this is Sungchan,” you introduced him, realizing you should probably at least let him say hello before bursting her bubble.

“It is such a pleasure to meet you,” he let go of you, immediately moving forward to hold your mother’s hand in both of his large hands, “your home is even lovelier than your daughter described. I especially love your paintings.”

You did prepare Sungchan with a few talking points, and gushing over your Mom’s artwork was common knowledge as the quickest way to get on her good side. Your mom switched between landscapes and abstract pastel paintings, and between the gold frames they sat in and the soft yellow light of the living room, it made Sungchan’s black wings have a golden hue.

You were glad your Mom couldn’t see them, and only you got to see the magic that was Sungchan. At least for this moment.

“Oh… why thank you I actually just replaced all of these and-,” she paused before snatching her hand back and frowning, “why are you, Sungchan, wearing a ring too? Isn’t that too far for some prank?”

“Mom…” you stepped forward, rejoining your hand with Sungchan’s, “so… we have something to tell you.”

Your mom collapsed on the couch, hand on her heart, “oh dear. You’re pregnant?”

You scoffed, and Sungchan chuckled under his breath, “no mom.”

“Then why are you… married to this… very tall stranger?”

You stepped closer to Sungchan, tucking one arm under his wings and around his waist and placing the other on his chest.

“Because,” he met your gaze, and you felt your stomach tighten as the moment you had to sell the most had arrived, “because, I love him. It didn’t matter if we waited two days, two months, two years or two hundred years. We just… knew.”

“When your daughter asked, I mean, how could I say no?” he tucked a hair behind your ear and you both smiled fondly. It was quiet for a beat before you heard your couch shift and your Mom sigh loudly. Looking back, she now stood in front of you too, still visibly skeptical but with the corners of her lips threatening to rise.

“Welcome to the family, Sungchan.”

********

“So, your Dad was an angel?”

It was about a week since you told your mother about your supposed marriage. Soyeon was busy preparing Sungchan’s legal defense, and you were at your apartment with Sungchan doing the dishes.

You shrugged, “that’s what the warlock at my job said.”

“You have a warlock at your job?” Sungchan handed you another clean dish to dry, his pink gloves lifting and further soaking the floor and your shirt. You didn’t mind much though as you happily dried off the dish.

“Yeah. He could see through the pictures of us on my desk that you were an angel and could sense that I was a nephilim.”

“Pretty powerful warlock… should I be jealous?” Sungchan elbowed you to joke, and you chuckled.

“Well, you aren’t my husband first of all. Second, I don’t think Yangyang is someone you should worry about.”

Sungchan hovered a dish over the sink before squarely turning to face you. “Sorry, what was his name?”

You blinked, “Yangyang?”

“So,” Sungchan continued washing the dish with a new ferocity, sneering as he did so, “the warlock that turned me into a cat for way too much money just… happens to be your coworker? What does that warlock do with all of his fucking money that he has to work a mortal job?”

“You’re kidding,” you couldn’t help but scoff, “he didn’t act like he knew you when he mentioned your pictures.”

“Well, part of his outrageous fee was his secrecy. I’ll give him that- the motherfucker could keep quiet.”

There was a silence then as you finished up the dishes. You were glad you didn’t kick Sungchan to the curb- he didn’t deserve the bad things that are after him. He was kind and thoughtful. You couldn’t help but dread what would happen after his trial- he had every right to leave you and live his life. In fact, you wanted him to live his life for himself. But… would he ever see you of his own volition? You continued drying off the dishes until they were done, your mind swimming all the while.

“Hey, do you wanna do something cool?” Sungchan asked once you put the dishes away. You raised an eyebrow before he extended his hand towards you. Your heart leapt to your throat before joining your hands together and followed him out of the apartment and up to the roof of the complex.

You didn’t live in a tall apartment building by any means, but even being on the roof of only a six floor building made you a little nervous. 

“What are we doing?” you asked, hands still together.

“Have you ever wanted to fly?” His question made your heart stop and your eyes widen. 

You ignored your innate fear of heights and nodded. He pulled you closer to him before spinning you around so that your back was pressed to his front. Your breathing stopped for a moment as he wrapped his hands around your waist and squeezed you closely against him.

“I’m not going to let you go,” he whispered, his lips kissing your ear, “are you ready?”

Your bottom lip trembling, you squeezed his forearm before nodding, “yes.”

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

THE BLACK CAT CONSPIRACY <- Previous

Continue? —> 12 ANGRY ANGELS

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[jealousveronya]

Would've, could've, should've - Chapter 3

Summary:

Everyone at the Spring Court always talked about how menacing and ruthless the High Lords were, especially the strongest High Lord, the High Lord of the Night Court. And Feyre did fear him, but when the entire world seemed set on reminding her how she needed to be protected, something even her husband couldn't accomplish without her sacrificing her freedom, she couldn't help but imagine a reality where he wasn't a threat, but the one she clung to breathlessly every night.

After all, if she needed to be protected, the company of the strongest should suffice.

However, that was just a fantasy Feyre created to escape to when she couldn't get out of bed. It meant nothing. She hadn't even met the lord of the night.

But what happens when she does and can't stop a blush from creeping onto her face as she finally puts a face to all her sensual fantasies?

Read Chapter 3 on: AO3 or continue reading

Rhysand clutched the toilet bowl as he expelled the contents of his stomach.

His knuckles were white, and the veins on his hands were bulging from the strain while sweat dripped from his forehead, his damp hair falling into his eyes.

Every muscle, every joint, every bone, and blood vessel pulsed with pain. Waves of nausea crashed over him, leaving him teetering on the edge of consciousness, forcing him to retch again.

He gripped the toilet bowl tighter. ‘Just a few more seconds,’ he reassured himself. The sickness struck like a lightning bolt, sudden and unforgiving, and the same way it came, abruptly and seemingly out of nowhere, the same way in a few seconds it would pass, just like every time before.

But this sickness went beyond the physical pain he had encountered before, especially during wars when spears pierced his skin and his body fought off infections. No, this pain went deeper. It felt as if a blade was severing the beast that lived beneath his skin, the cut sharp and relentless. The beast trashed and screamed, its cries echoing through his very soul.

‘A few more seconds,’ he repeated, begged, as if trying to will the pain away, stop the beast from coming out. But his body betrayed him and another wave of nausea flooded him, forcing him to retch again.

And then it was done.

The blade returned to whatever dark hole it came out of and relief flooded his body.

Rhysand could finally breathe.

He leaned back against the cold marble wall, letting its coldness soothe him. One knee was drawn to his chest, providing a perch for his hand, while his other leg lay sprawled out. Pushing his sweat-soaked hair back from his face, he tried to steady his rapid heartbeat and labored breathing.

“Yeah, you need to talk to Madja.”

Rhysand’s violet eyes found Azriel’s blue ones. His brother leaned against the door to the bathroom, shock evident on his face.

“It’s fine, it’ll pass,” Rhysand said, his voice hoarse.

“It’s not fine.” Azriel waved his hand dismissively. “And it’s been happening for a month with no sign of stopping. You are seeing Madja and that’s that. I’ll drag you myself to her if you resist.”

“You can try.” Rhysand flashed him his canines. Azriel just stared at him, unamused.

Rhysand took another deep breath in and out.

For a month now, every day, at about the same time, that sickness would come back and he’d feel like he was about to die.

The first time it happened he was at a meeting with Cassian and Devlon. They were discussing the females' position in the Illyrian troops and in the middle of the conversation, Rhysand dropped to his knees and started throwing up. He had almost thrown up on Devlon’s leather boots, had the Illyrian not been faster and moved a few steps back.

Cassian instantly crouched down in concern for his brother, for his High Lord.

Devlon started yelling – screaming for the healers, but before they even got to Rhysand, he was seemingly all better. All that was left from the attack was some bitter taste on his tongue, one that no amount of water or liquor could wash away, some strange ache in his muscles, which his years of training and fighting taught him how to ignore, and the beast within him that was still quivering from the pain.

He suspected poisoning at the time, so they rounded up all the cooks and Azriel began questioning them. They even gathered all the plates, searching for any trace of poison.

But they found nothing.

Initially, the Inner Circle thought this meant the enemy had escaped and they had failed as a Court. However, the next day, the sickness returned.

That time he was with his cousin in the Wind House. They were still trying to figure out who and how could have poisoned him, and then, in the same manner, Rhysand dropped to his knees, and started emptying his insides, this time right on Mor’s, his cousin’s, crimson dress.

Since then, every day, the same curse returned.

Rhysand finally rose from the bathroom floor and made his way to the living room, with Azriel trailing behind.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed it in one swift motion. It didn’t completely wash away the lingering effects of the sickness, but it quieted the beast that threatened to come out.

What poison or spell could cause such torment to it?

Rhysand poured himself another glass of whiskey, downing it even faster than the last. The urge to tear at his own heart was overwhelming, though he couldn’t quite grasp why.

“Brother?” Azriel asked, his hand resting gently on Rhysand’s shoulder, concern evident in his tone. 

“I’m fine,” Rhysand reassured him, his voice softening. “I’m just trying to wash away the taste. I’ll see Madja, I promise.”

Azriel nodded in understanding. His brotherly concern gave way to the stoic, businesslike demeanor of a shadow singer and spy master, ready to report to his High Lord.

“We caught spies.”

“Really?” Rhysand asked with a smirk. “From the Court of Nightmares?”

Azriel shook his head.

“Actually, they’re from our neighbors, the Autumn Court, Winter Court, Dawn Court, and, you won’t believe it, the Spring Court.”

The air grew heavy with tension. The fact that neighboring courts were sending spies indicated brewing trouble in Prythian. The only question was why.

“They were sent to see if you were gathering armies or planning a war. They don’t know the reason, though,” Azriel said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Believe me, I tried.”

“Since when did Tamlin send spies, especially to our court?”

“Perhaps he’s changed. My sources tell me he’s gotten married.”

“Really?” Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “And he didn’t invite me to his wedding?” He feigned disappointment.

“He didn’t invite anyone. Just his court.”

“Well, maybe we should still send him a gift.”

The brothers shared a smirk.

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

Feyre woke in the dead of night, the darkness of the room a comforting cloak that offered her a rare moment of solitude. She silently thanked the Cauldron for stirring her from restless sleep, as it gave her the precious silence needed to sort through her thoughts.

The pain from the faebane was still there, but it was bearable enough for her to rise and sit on the edge of the bed.

The past month felt like a blur, each day blending seamlessly into the next, marked only by the ritual of drinking faebane and the fleeting moments of intimacy with Tamlin when her strength allowed.

She wondered about the goal of this endless cycle. Was it to bring a son into the world, one who would grow to take over Prythian? The thought was daunting—decades, even centuries, could pass before she even conceived, and then more time would stretch before her son was ready to act. Was this what her life was destined to be, a never-ending loop of faebane, eating, and sleeping?

Then there was the question of whether she could even bear a child in her current state. And did she even want to? The uncertainty gnawed at her, mingling with the growing sense of despair.

She gazed out of the open window, where the night air rustled the pink curtains. The sky was a tapestry of stars, and the garden below seemed to beckon her, whispering promises of freedom. But the reality of her situation was stark—too many stairs, too many hallways, and her body was too weak to navigate them. Even if she could manage it physically, the sentries would instantly alert Tamlin.

Tamlin…

She needed to talk to him about the faebane. Maybe there was another way—training, perhaps, learning to defend herself. He couldn’t expect her to spend centuries like this, could he?

Feyre resolved to speak with him in the morning, to find a different path.

But as she tried to calm her racing thoughts, a pair of shadowed fingers traced up her arm, over her shoulders, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The figure gently lowered her back onto the bed, pressing tender kisses along her collarbones, up her neck, and finally onto her lips.

His kisses absorbed every sound she made, every moan.

“You wouldn’t want him to hear, would you?” he whispered, almost biting off a part of her lip - the kind of pain she'd beg to feel.

She shook her head, a silent agreement.

“That’s a shame,” he said with a smirk, his hands beginning to lift her nightgown. “Because I certainly do.”

As his touch wandered, drawing circles on her inner thighs, she drifted off to sleep, lost in the sensations of his caresses.

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

Feyre awoke later than usual, the sun’s position indicating it was almost noon. Alis would typically arrive by nine to help her get dressed, but there was no sign of her today.

The manor was unusually silent.

Taking careful, cautious steps, Feyre emerged from her room, ensuring the door closed quietly behind her. She glanced both ways down the hallway—no sentries, not a sound.

The cold tiles felt icy beneath her bare toes as she descended the stairs.

“Tamlin?” she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the emptiness.

“Oh, Feyre, I just came to find you,” Ianthe’s voice came from behind her.

“Ianthe, where is everyone?” Feyre asked, her concern growing.

“Oh, Feyre,” Ianthe’s tone was laden with a troubling gravity, “something terrible has happened. You need to come and see.”

With that, Ianthe guided Feyre out of the manor, her steps brisk and urgent. They followed the cobblestone path to the garden of roses.

Turning left around the manor, Feyre spotted a group of faes in the distance. Tamlin, the tallest among them, stood surrounded by members of his court and sentries, their backs turned towards her.

A rotting smell reached Feyre’s nostrils, making her scrunch her nose in disgust.

Before she could call out to Tamlin, he sensed her presence and turned around, his face already etched with alarm.

“Feyre!” he exclaimed, panic in his voice. But she already saw it. In the seconds it took him to turn around, she caught a glimpse of it—a severed head, one of the Spring Court’s members, lying on the ground.

Tamlin hugged her in an attempt to shield her from the sight, but Feyre trashed around so much, she managed to push through his efforts. Curiosity and horror mingled as she saw the head of a blond male. She had seen around the manor in passing, he had always bowed to her and wished her a good day.

The head was covered in blood, and her eyes were drawn to the engraving on his forehead—three dots and some lines forming pointed edges.

“What’s that?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Night Court insignia,” Tamlin cursed, his anger barely contained. “Those bastards…”

The other members of the court murmured prayers to the Mother and profanities for the Night Court.

Her heart seemed to freeze. Was she—could she have been—fantasizing about the High Lord of the Night Court while he had ordered the beheading of one of her court’s members?

She placed a hand over her mouth, horrified. What kind of lady of Spring was she?

"We should call for his family", one member said. 

'His family', Feyre gasped in her mind as tears fell down her cheeks. What would they think if they knew what she imagined while someone was branding their beloved?

Her magic, however small and buried, began to boil within her, threatening to tear her apart for her sins.

Tamlin turned to her, his expression one of shock.

“Ianthe! Take Feyre inside!” he ordered sharply.

Ianthe started to bow, but Tamlin’s urgent command cut her off. “NOW!”

Hastily, Ianthe guided Feyre back into the manor and into the hall she knew all too well. She watched as Ianthe took a glass and poured a large quantity of faebane from a locked drawer, more than usual.

“Here,” Ianthe said, handing the glass to Feyre.

Feyre stared at the cup, her resolve wavering. She had planned to confront Tamlin today, to ask him to stop drinking faebane and allow her to train. But Tamlin wasn’t here, he was preoccupied – a member of the court was dead, and asking him now was impossible.

And she had indulged herself with fantasies of the High Lord who had killed someone who had bowed to her. How was she supposed to look his family in the eye?

So she grabbed the cup, not caring how much Ianthe had poured, and as punishment, started swallowing.

She would stop drinking faebane one day, she just had to endure a little longer, until things at Spring Court returned to normal – if that was even possible - and then she’d ask Tamlin, she promised herself that as faebane tore at her soul and burned her. It was like a fire ignited in the pit of her stomach.

As she drank, it was like she could see the shadowy figure that plagued her thoughts sitting opposite her, his arms crossed, a smirk dancing on his lips as he watched her torture herself. That was who he truly was, not the male she imagined, but this. And if she encountered him, she’d end up worse than the male in the garden.

A slave in the Night Court. That's what she would become. 

And she knew all that, she knew he was cruel, but to have it confirmed like this – that there was no one who would save her, that it really was just her – crushed her heart.

Sure, she plans to ask Tamlin about training, but she had already asked before and he had dismissed her – what if his answer doesn't change?

Feyre smashed the glass against the table when she was done. The glass shattered, cutting her hand. Faebane seeped into the cuts, blood mixing with the green curse, sending a searing hot pain through her.

She screamed.

She slumped to the floor from the chair, the pain and the faebane’s effects pulling her under, her thoughts dissolving into a haze of darkness and regret.

Why did she have this power? Why did the Mother have to take from the other High Lords and give to her?'

What? Did she run out of magic and had to reuse what she already gave? Why couldn’t she get normal ‘new’ magic like everybody else?

Why give her magic at all?

Why couldn’t she have just been left to starve in the woods or suffer the tithe?

She could feel her consciousness slipping away. Perhaps if the Mother felt any pity, she’d take her magic—or her—away now.

Through the haze, she felt someone gently stroking her head.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, in the Night Court, Rhysand collapsed from his sofa. The sickness had arrived early by a few hours and stronger than ever. The beast under his skin was roaring, primal and incomprehensible, and Rhysand could only slam his fists against the ground as his wings flared, his breathing heavy, and his entire body shaking from the pain and nausea it caused.

The inner circle gathered around him in horror.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Another triumph, civic crowns and song. In Arras, one was awaiting M. Robespierre. The exalted heads wanted the citizens to take up arms, to march in procession to the victor; but the municipality was looking for the great man for whom all these honors were being prepared. They name Robespierre, he is no longer a great man, says the municipality. No weapons, please, citizens. Wise defense. But the club does not agree with the municipal opinion. The rage of triumphs and crowns tensed it; it takes charge of escorting the so-called Brutus, and designates a sister to weave the triumphal branches. Mademoiselle Robespierre and M. Robespierre the younger, Madame Gamban, Mademoiselle Gabriel and many other young ladies, dressed, variegated, joyful, go pompously to meet the Republican hero, preceded by music. They travel to Baurains... but alas! no victor. What a blow for the family! great toilet, crosiers, musicians, a crown, and no victor! That’s not happening, says a money changer, someone must be crowned, even if it so be the devil. Then a clever man from the crowning troop awards the civic honors to the brother of the hero. Bravo, people shout from all sides. No, I refuse, shouts Robespierre the younger, they would make fun of me almost as much as they would of my brother; he was right. One holds a council to find out which side to take, one opts for the dance, and it all ends. Frenchmen, leave your follies; agree with your principles, be aware of crowns, and do not prostitute your homage to fools.

La Feuille du jour, number 289, October 16 1789.

Charlotte’s account of this episode in her memoirs forty years later:

After the closure of the Constituent Assembly, and before my departure from Arras, Maximilien wrote to me to announce his coming arrival in his native city. He fixed the day with me and recommended that I keep it secret. My younger brother and I resolved to go to meet him. One of my friends, Madame Buissart, was with our party. We rented a carriage and set off. We followed the road to Parisuntil Bapaume, a town about five miles from Arras. There, we waited all day, but my brother did not arrive. That evening we sadly retraced our steps, promising ourselves we would return the next day. We were quite surprised to see a considerable crowd at the gates of Arras; already the rumor of Robespierre’s arrival had spread in the city, whether by some indiscretion of Madame Buissart’s, whether because our servant had understood the reason for our trip to Bapaume, and had divulged it. As soon as the people saw our carriage, they believed that Maximilien was within it, and started to make lively acclamations. They even wanted to un-harness the horses and pull the carriage. The next day, we left early in the morning so as not to be seen; we entered an inn in Bapaume, before which passed all the coaches coming from Paris, and we placed ourselves as lookouts to discover that which contained the object of all our wishes. Finally, we held him in our arms, and we tasted the ineffable pleasure of seeing him again after an absence of two years.

[storm-angel989]

Outside The Office Part Thirty Three

Hi All,

I hope this chapter clarifies some questions! Shoot me any more that might pop up <3

I knelt over the toilet as the last bit of my breakfast came up.  Every part of me ached, had ached for the last two days and I felt both overheated and freezing cold. I had tried ginger ale, crackers, apple juice, and everything else just short of calling Valentino and begging him to come home. 

I laid half on the cool tile of the floor, half on the towel I had tossed down at the start of all this and closed my eyes. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since the day Valentino bit into my shoulder, leaving me completely and utterly ravenous for him. His best guess was that part of the control he had over his ability to procreate- after all, he had never bitten someone in his Overlord form. And he figured as long as the saliva he produced in that form stayed out of his partners bloodstream, he could fuck them all he wanted with zero consequences. 

But he assumed, based on my reaction to the bite, that as soon as that red poison slipped into my bloodstream, all bets were off. The fertility test I had taken the next day showed that I was more than able to get pregnant. But the six pregnancy tests I took after reassured us both that I wasn't.  

With that confirmation, Valentino and I fell into our morning routine- working out, fucking, breakfast, showering, work, in that order. Work was where we usually parted- me to go and start to sort through the mass of souls that had the potential to be useful. 

To say that hell had a military was an absolute joke in every sense of the word. I was quickly learning that, in as much power my Uncle Lucifer had, he had little to no sense of organization when it came to this type of thing. The day I passed my physical assessment in Lucifer’s mind, I realized just how messed up, overrated, underrated and disorganized his sense of brutality was. 

“Lucifer, I took down seventeen enemies the size of my father,” I had panted in the middle of the training floor. “What goal are you looking for?”

He stared at me in confusion. “Goal? I wanted you to kill them all.”

“That isn’t humanly possible,” I panted as I gulped down water. “Shit, Uncle Lucifer, that's why we have troops. Come on, give me the files.”

“Fine, fine, but only because we’re running out of time,” he relented. 

He led me into what was formally Valentino’s second studio. There was no trace of what remained before, instead, the floor was divided into sections, and subsections. Lucifer had spared no expense in ensuring that every bit of technology was up to date- and worked with Vox to be sure everything was the most secure it could be. Unlike the others, when you stepped off the elevator you needed a retinal scan simply to walk through the next door. From there, retinal scans popped up throughout, ensuring at random that those going through were where they needed to be. 

The first few days were spent in the middle of an empty office, pounding away on my laptop as I rushed to sort through files. Categorizing souls was no small feat, considering the amount of them- Lucifer’s seven billion plus to my seven hundred or so. A daunting task to say the least, but thankfully, Vox jumped in and together we came up with an algorithm that would sort these souls into one of the three categories- yes, fuck no, and only if desperate. 

With the constant late nights and busy days, it didn’t phase me too much when Valentino kissed the top of my head and told me he was going to have to leave me for a few days. I was too deep in my work to say anything other than yes, and without him as a consistent check in, Vox stepped in to pry me away from the office and forced me to go to sleep at night. If nothing else, I was grateful the club scene paused while Valentino was gone- it was one less thing to do outside of work. 

Yesterday morning was the first day something didn’t feel quite right.  A twinge in my belly, and nausea that flooded me. When Vox came to grab me for dinner, I told him I didn’t feel well. He immediately checked my temperature and put me to bed. 

“You’re working too hard,” he said gently. “You need to slow down.”

That wasn’t an option. We had weeks before the angels were due to come and I had a plan that needed to be implemented six months ago. My idea was simple. The angels came into us, and I led the invasion back to heaven, right through the portal they entered. Smack them where it hurts, get revenge for my father and end this nonsense once and for all. But I had yet to figure out how exactly I was going to manage that. As an angel, I could enter heaven. And I suspected Lucifer could as well, but I would need someone powerful on the ground. Based on the abilities of the souls I had to work with, this entire thing would be a tough ask. 

So I pushed myself, like I always did, until I physically couldn’t anymore, nibbling on crackers and working from my bedroom until finally everything I put into my body came up. I felt sicker than I ever had before, and I needed to call Val, I knew I did. I just couldn’t do this by myself. I needed my person. 

I picked up the phone and to his credit, he picked up on the first ring. 

“Princessa, is everything okay?” He asked. 

“Val, can you come home? I’m sick. I need you.” I dropped the phone as another wave of nausea flooded me. Bile. Ugh. 

“Sorry, Val I’m…”

“I’ll be home in an hour. And I’m calling Lucifer and Vox now,” he said sharply. 

“No, Val. Just you. Please please don’t make a big deal out of this I just, I don’t want to do this alone,” I pleaded. 

Silence on the other end.

“I’ll be home in a half hour, cariño. Sit tight until then.” 

True to his word, the door to the bathroom pushed open no more than thirty minutes later. 

“Mi amore, what’s wrong?” He asked as he gathered my hair and pulled it back into a loose ponytail. “Tell me what hurts, bebita.” 

“My stomach, Val. I can’t keep anything down. I’m behind where I wanted to be in organizing interviews, and I just…”

“Alright, calm down,” he replied as he sat down next to me on the bathroom floor. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” 

I laid my head on his lap and tried to breath through the cramping in my gut. “It hurts, Val.”

He was quiet for a moment as he stroked my hair. “You got your period yesterday, right?”

I shook my head. “No, Val, I’m late, not that it matters, but…”

I felt the pain wash through me and I leaned back over the toilet as the bitter liquid came up. I felt his hands gently braid my hair, ensuring it was kept out of the way. “Ugh, I hate throwing up,” I muttered as I accepted the tissue he handed me. 

“I’m concerned that this may not be the stomach bug,” he said slowly. “It’s been three weeks since we…”

“Val, you didn’t come in me after you bit me. And yeah, we fucked later but you again pulled out. My mouth took the brute of it. And my stomach. And my thighs…”

He didn’t look convinced. “Let me run a blood test, muñeca. Just to make sure. And I’ll check for other things too, like…like an elevated white blood cell count. Rule out an infection. If it all comes out clean, then we’ll know it's just the stomach flu.” 

My head ached, both from dehydration and this conversation. “There are a thousand reasons my period could be late, Val. Stress? Remember the whole invasion of hell thing? I just…”

I doubled over again and Valentino again ensured my hair stayed out of the way. When I finally finished, I leaned back against him as I began to realize the gravity of his suggestion. “I can’t be pregnant, Val. This has to be the stomach flu.” 

“We don’t know that, mi amore. And we won’t know that until I run a blood test. Please, princessa.” 

If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a plea in his voice I hadn’t heard from him. 

“What happens if I am, Val?” I whispered as I curled up on the floor. “What happens then?”

“Then we handle it as it comes, mi amore.” His hand fell to my stomach. “I love you. And I will love anything that we create.”

I would have loved to kiss him at that moment. To tell him how much I loved him in return, how he, for the first time, made me feel like I wasn’t alone in the world. How he made me feel safe and cared for and protected. 

Instead, I doubled over again.

“When was the last time you kept liquid down?” He asked with concern. “I have to put a catheter in for blood regardless, might as well get fluids in you. Show me, where in your belly does it hurt?” 

“All of it. My entire abdomen hurts. But that’s probably from being so sick. I don’t think, I don’t think it's anything more.”

“Lay on your back for just a moment, cariño. Humor me,” he instructed. 

Too tired and in too much pain to fight, I laid down on the towel I had tossed down earlier. His hands lifted my shirt up and I felt him press on my tummy. 

“Does any of this hurt?” He asked with concern. 

I felt my stomach grumble and I was sure he did too. I felt my cheeks turn pink.

“No, it's just…”

“Upset. I understand. Just making sure there is nothing majorly wrong,” he replied. His hand lingered over my belly button for just a moment before he pulled my shirt back down. “Let me see your arms.” 

I tried to breath through another round of cramps but in seconds I knelt back over the toilet.

“Val, if you put a line in can you give me something to stop this?” I begged. “I’m so tired of being sick.”

He looked pained. “No, princessa. I mean, I could. But if it’s truly the stomach bug it has to run its course. Better to let it out than hold those germs in your belly.” He stood up and put his hand on my forehead. “I’m going to go downstairs and get the things I need, will you be okay for a moment?” 

I groaned in response as I laid back down. “Val, I’m hot and cold at the same time. How is that even possible?”

“You’re running a fever, muñeca. I can give you something to bring it back down, but if I can convince you to get into a cool shower when I get back, that may make you feel even better.”

The thought alone made me more nauseous. I heard the door close behind him and I curled myself up into a ball. Pregnant? The thought hadn’t occurred to me until he said it, but I supposed it was possible. Hopefully not, but also…

Well, I wouldn’t mind being pregnant with his child. I thought back to his fantasy, my tummy round with his babies. 

My thoughts on the subject subsided as I heaved again. And again. After what felt like forever, the bathroom door opened and Valentino walked back in carrying a black backpack. He knelt down next to me and laid his hand on the back of my neck. 

“Do you want me to try to take blood now, or do you want to try a cool shower first?” He asked as I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You’re burning up, bebita.”

“I don’t care,” I muttered. “I just don’t feel good.”

I heard the shower turn on and felt his hands on my body. I let myself go limp against him. 

“Alright then sweetheart, let’s get these clothes off,” he replied as he tugged the shirt off over my head. 

“What if I get sick again?” I asked as he lifted me to my feet. 

“Then you throw up, it isn’t a big deal, princessa.” He guided me into the shower. “You should know well enough by now that I’ve seen it all in my line of work.”

That I didn’t doubt. But getting sick in front of him wasn’t on my list of desires. He guided me under the cool water and I leaned my bodyweight into him as the water hit my back. 

“Valentino, it burns,” I hissed as he held me under the stream. 

“No, honey, it doesn’t. Your body is just that warm,” he replied. “I checked your vitals on my phone. Your temps at a hundred and four, bebita. We have to get it down, and quickly.” He tilted my head back so my entire body was under the cold water and held me as I winced. “Val, I’m going to throw up, let me go.”

He released me and I bolted out of the shower, barely making it to the toilet. 

“Fuck,” I coughed. “That hurts.”

“I meant in the shower,” he said with slight amusement in his voice as he pulled my soaking wet hair back with a towel. 

“I refuse,” I shuddered. “That is a boundary I will not cross.”

He let out a low laugh. “Oh my princessa. Let’s get you dried off and taken care of.” He carefully tugged a fresh tee shirt over my head and combed my hair as quickly as he could, taking careful care to put it back in braids, pausing whenever I doubled over. 

“Alright, muñeca, let me see your arms,” he knelt next to me. 

Waves of nausea flooded through me. “Val, I can’t. I need to lay down.” 

“You can, mi amore. Lay down if you must,” he replied, “that’s a good girl. Close your eyes.”

I heard him mutter in a mix of Spanish and English as he pressed on my skin gently. 

“Don’t move, bebita,” he ordered softly. “That’s it. Little pinch.”

“I’m going to throw up again, Val,” I warned. “I need to sit up.”

“Then sit up, the needle is out.” He slipped his hand behind my back and I panted. Nothing came out. 

“Dry heaves are the worst,” he replied sympathetically. “The nurse sent something for the nausea, something to make you a little more comfortable, and something for the fever. I’m going to take blood and then I’ll connect the line, okay mi amore?”

“I couldn’t fight you if I wanted to,” I replied as I laid back down on the floor. 

“That’s not the point, cariño,” he said as he worked over me with a practiced hand. He held up a vial of blood and set it off to the side. “Let’s get you set and then I’ll run the test.”

“Doesn’t the lab have to do it?” I asked. “Ow, ow Val!”

He ignored my question. “I’m sorry, princessa,” he apologized as he finished the line. “I know it doesn’t feel good. Just a few more seconds and the pain should start to disperse.” He paused and gently laid a hand on my stomach, “you must be in pain if you’re letting me give you something for it. Are you sure it doesn’t hurt when I press here?” 

I gritted my teeth. “Every muscle hurts, Valent….oh, relief,” I closed my eyes as the cramping in my belly stopped. Or maybe I didn’t feel it anymore. Either way, I didn’t care. 

“My princessa,” he muttered with concern. “Lie still for a few moments, while I run the test and I’ll help you to bed.”

I closed my eyes and took the first deep breath since I got sick. A few moments later, I felt a tug on my arm and Valentino lifted me up. 

“What did the test say?” I asked worriedly. “Val, am I…”

“No, princessa. You are not pregnant.” He replied quietly as he settled me in our bed. “It truly is just the stomach bug, you must have picked it up from somewhere.” He pressed his lips to my forehead and smoothed back my hair. 

“I can’t…I can't decide if I’m sad or relieved.” I said softly. 

“I am both, bebita,” he sat down next to me and laid a hand on my stomach for the third time that day. This time, he didn’t press down, he simply held it there, lost in thought. “But now we have the chance to do this the way you desire, mi amore. With the pretty ring on your finger first.” He gave me a smile and laid down next to me.

His words didn’t quite connect in my brain as I curled into him. “Wait, Val, can’t I get you sick?” I asked. 

“Technically, yes. And it would suck. But I wouldn’t die from it,” he replied lightly. “And if I get sick from taking care of you, it will be worth it.” He kept one hand on my belly and gently pulled me to his chest. “Now close your eyes, cariño.”

[cosmica-galaxy]

In response to the new Skibidi Episode (66)

I am 100 PERCENT certain that the Speaker and Camera Titans are completely OKAY, but the Skibidis wanted to spread misinformation to dishearten the troops, which backfired and made the troops even angrier. Instead of surrendering and giving up, like the skibidi's hoped, the titans "deaths" just enraged the factions and now they were all hellbent on killing toilets. With literally ANYTHING. Swords, guns, fists, and such. Now, we also know that the TV titan is about to get back into the ring with a new upgraded form we haven't seen yet! So while the other two titans go back for repairs and upgrades, the TV titan is about to go on the biggest murder spree that the toilets have yet to grasp. Hell is about to get released on those Skibidi Bastards. ALL TOILETS WILL DIE. HAIL TV TITAN!!!