#okay time to decide if you're going to Commune With Living Rock

[opportunity-strikes]

Adventure Poll!

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Though plagued with many questions about today, what nags at your mind most is the person you left behind. In the strangeness of the fae realm you hadn't really noticed too much about them; thoughts and details had been slippery. Now though, thinking back, your memories solidify. Long, lithe limbs covered in pale birch-like bark, bright amber eyes with no irises. You remember a laurel of branches crowning their head, and hair like willow vines. You can't say you know much about denizens of fey realms... but maybe they were some kind of dryad?

You glance down at your wrist, remembering their crushing strength. The bruise left behind by their long fingers is darkening into an odd shape. You squint in the flickering light, and move over to the fireside for a better look. Mottled purple and brownish-yellows are blooming on your skin, but buried beneath them is something else. Your brow furrows as you twist your arm around. There's something like... a tattoo? It looks like a thorny vine wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet.

More questions spring to mind. You remember the emphasis of their words, how carefully they held your gaze when they grabbed your wrist. Who were they? What had they put on your wrist? Unbidden the image of them standing in front of the threshold peeking over their shoulder at you comes to mind. You're sure they had been smiling. You didn't see their mouth, but you can feel it in your bones somehow.

As your thoughts swirl around this topic, you suddenly notice that little heartbeat in your mind has... changed? There's no way for you to know how you know this, but it feels as though that tiny presence has... lifted its head to look at you? You have the distinct impression of being watched, but the sense isn't sinister. It feels more like someone heard a familiar name from across the room and is searching for the speaker. Upon this realization the feeling changes to something else: a beckoning.

[grifanias]

Okay, this is my first post, so I'm not waiting for anything (as if something will happen). My English is very bad. I'm sorry.…

A guy with pale blue hair was slicing through the air with his wings. It was already beginning to dawn.

* thoughts of Uranus*

"And like me, a Harpy, so from places where mermaids have not lived since they were born, I managed to catch on to one of these aquatic ones... if someone finds out… it's not going to end well and I'll be to blame for it... I can already see how they remember me as (Uranus is a Harpy who believed a Mermaid and died because of his stupidity) okay, he doesn't seem to be innately calm down everything will be fine... so here's a cluster of rocks sticking out of the water... here we kind of met for the last time once..."

With these thoughts, the blue-haired man landed and sat waiting for his new acquaintance.

"Maybe it's not too late and..."

- Hello)- said the guy who was looking out of the water leaning on his elbows and on the rock.

"Hello, Neptune," the winged one replied calmly.

After these words, the siren surfaced and sat down on the rock on which Uranus was sitting.

- You still came) - Neptune smiled, tilting his head, he propped it up with his hands.

- Yes, I arrived… As you can see, the harpy said.

- Since you're here, can I ask you a few questions? Then you can ask me a couple of questions) - said the Mermaid enthusiastically.

- Come on... - Uranus said a little warily.

- Great, so that's it… How far do you live from Syuda? And is it possible to swim to it?Neptune asked.

"Did he seriously decide to ask that?"

- about an hour of flight ... and there are no rivers flowing deep enough to swim to it ... - the harpy calmly replied.

- Oh.. Oh well) You're next..." said Neptune, smiling.

- Why do you ask that?Uranus said.

- I'm interested) and besides, I have not met harpies with such wings)- Neptune said -they are usually narrow and not as sweeping as yours ... and of such a color) -Neptune smiled sparkly.

"So you've talked to Harpies before?"- decides to clarify the Uranium.

- Yes! - nodded Neptune.- only they live near the shore... I communicate with them sometimes.Neptune quieted down a bit towards the end.- so that's my next question) Can I touch your wings?Neptune asked enthusiastically.

"Is he asking to touch my wings? Does he not know at all what this means for the Harpy? This is almost the highest form of trust! Our wings may look strong, but if the flight wings are torn out, I'll stay here and just won't be able to fly..."

- Are you afraid? If you want, you can touch my tail and fins first) this is as important a part of the body as wings are for you) - he stretched out his fish tail to Uranus.

"Damn... I wonder if his ladles are like a fish's or more elastic? Or maybe they are soft on the back? So wait, this could end badly... but does he trust me?...was not..."

The harpy decided to touch the siren's tail.

"It is pleasant, moderately elastic and very smooth transparent, it shimmers with different colors like scales"

After that, Uranus reluctantly stretched out the wing closest to the Mermaid. Neptune attacked the harpy's wing with childish enthusiasm, surprisingly he gently stroked and examined it.

- I have considered quite a lot of harpy wings, but I like yours the most so far) - the Mermaid smiled.

Ладно это мой первый пост поэтому ничего не жду(как будто что-то будет).

Парень с нежно голубыми волоса��и рассекал воздух своими крыльями. Уже начало рассветать.

*мысли Урана*

«И как меня Гарпию, так еще из мест где русалки от родясь не жили, угораздило зацепиться за одного из этих водных… если кто-то узнает… это ничем хорошим не кончиться и виноват в этом буду я… я уже вижу как меня вспоминают как (Уран-Гарпия что поверила Русалу и умерла из-за своей тупости) ладно он вроде не настроен врождеьно успокойся все будет хорошо… так вот скопление скал выпирающих из воды… тут мы вроде как встретились в последний раз…»

С этими мыслями голубоволосый приземлился и сидя ожидал своего нового знакомого.

«Может еще не поздно и…»

-Привет)-сказал парень что выглядывал из воды опираясь локти и на скалу.

-Привет, Нептун-спокойно ответил крылатый.

После этих слов сирена вынырнул и присел на скалу на которой сидел Уран.

-Ты все таки пришел)-улыбался Нептун наклонив голову, он подпирал ее руками.

-Да прилетел… Как видишь-сказала гарпия.

-Раз уж ты здесь я задам тебе пару вопросов? После ты сможешь задать мне парочку)-сказал Русал воодушевлено.

-Давай…-немного насторожено сказал Уран.

-Отлично, так вот… Как далеко ты от сюды живешь? И можно ли до него доплыть?-спросил Нептун.

«Он серьезно решил спросить это?»

-где-то час полета… и нет до него не текут достаточно глубокие реки для того что бы доплыть…-спокойно ответила гарпия.

-Оу.. ну хорошо) ты следующий…-сказал Нептун улыбаясь.

-Почему ты это спрашиваешь?-сказал Уран.

-Мне интересно) да и к тому же я не встречал гарпий с такими крыльями)-сказал Нептун-обычно они узкие и не такие размашистые, как у тебя… да и такого цвета)-искринк улыбался Нептун.

-То есть ты раньше общался с Гарпиями?-решит уточнить Уран.

-Да!-кивнул Нептун.-только они живут Радом с берегом… я общаюсь с ними иногда.-немного притих Нептун ближе к концу.-так вот мой следующий вопрос) Можно потрогать твои крылья?-воодушевлено спросил Нептун.

«Он просит потрогать мои крылья? Он совсем не знает что это значит для Гарпии? Это чуть ли не высшая форма доверия! Наши крылья пускай и выглядят крепкими но если вырвет маховые крылья, я останусь тут и просто не смогу улитеть…»

-Ты боишься? Если хочешь можешь сперва потрагать мой хвост и плавники) это такая же важная часть тела как для тебя крылья)-протянул свой рыбий хвост урану.

«Черт… интересно его половники как у рыбки или более упругие? А может на оборот мягкие? Так стоп это может плохо кончиться… но он мне доверяет?… была не была..»

Гарпия все решил потрогать хвост сирены.

«Он приятный в меру упругий и очень гладкий прозрачный, он переливается разными цветами как и чешуйки»

После Уран нехотя протянул ближнее к Русалу крыло. Нептун с детским задором накинулся на крыло гарпии, на удивление он аккуратно его гладил и разглядывал.

-Я рассматривал достаточно много крыльев гарпий, но твои мне нравятся пока больше всех)-улыбнулся Русал.

[queen--kenobi]

Tyland and Elayna are rapidly becoming a ship I'm obsessed with. Pls shower me in canonverse head canons for them

Yes. Yeeeeeessssssss

Okay so! Some fun canon facts:

Tyland didn't initially have the intention of marrying Elayna! In my head Tyland is bi so like. He kinda figured they could act as each other's cover once he saw her with fem!Aemond and how the two of them interacted. Yes this does mean when they're at each other throats it's mlm and wlw hostility that turns into mlm and wlw solidarity

Elayna and Tyland cannot be together in the same room as Otto. Only one or the other, not both. Mostly because both of them find Otto pretentious, and they will be exchanging looks when Otto says something they think is stupid. Tyland has a little more respect for Otto than Elayna does, but. Not much

Speaking of looks. Since neither of them is big on pda, they've gotten very good at communicating with just a look. Literally they can have conversations by just lifting an eyebrow. Elayna tries to make it a game and see if she can't hold an actual conversation with someone while communicating with Tyland exclusively via facial expressions

Jason hates this btw. Partially because it means someone knows his twin better than him (like that's hard to do) and partially because he's only getting Tyland’s side of the conversation

Tyland’s approach to get Elayna to warm up to him was very much like when you try to get a feral cat to warm up to you. He would steadily start showing up in places she was, and once she got used to his presence he invited her to have lunch with him, which turned into a regular thing

Most of their dates either occur in the library or in the gardens. When they're in the gardens they talk, and a lot of their good ideas come from those long walks where they bounce ideas off each other

Tyland will never admit it but the first time Elayna defended him in front of someone? Hot. And it's not even like the person was particularly nasty, they just asked Elayna why she speaks to him because he seems boring. Elayna didn't tear into the person like she wanted to, but she was Firm so. No one ever asked again

Elayna hasn't necessarily seen/heard Tyland defend her but like. She know he has. He just does it in very subtle ways that like. Unless you know what you're looking for, you're not going to figure out it was Tyland. And Elayna does know what to look out for

Obviously the biggest point of contention in their relationship is Tyland’s family. Not just because Elayna literally hates all of them except for him and Johanna for very valid reasons but also because Tymon, Jason and Tyland’s youngest brother, basically decided he was going to marry Elayna and has not backed down. It's very tense because of this

Tbh there's absolutely a power struggle when it comes to who makes the first move when they realize they're into each other. Because Tyland kinda wants to see if Elayna will crack first but Elayna is determined that Tyland should finally do something himself if he wants her and not manipulate her into making the first move

Both of them absolutely lose their minds when they each have their "oh shit they know me better than anyone else" moments

It's never said outright but like. There's this quiet understanding the plan is for them to stay in KL and not go back to Casterly Rock unless something major changes. And it's for a variety of reasons, not just Elayna not wanting to go back. Like their lives are too tied up in KL, and like. I think they both probably come to the conclusion their kids wouldn't necessarily be better off growing up at the Rock, yk? They could put their kids in an excellent position if they start with them being friends with the Targ kids from a young age

[moondust-writes]

͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ [dating headcanons] ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ .ೃ࿐ odysseus the seel ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･safe for work; romantic; requested *ೃ༄ ' Dating headcanons for any oc u prefer to do 👀 '

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ okay, odysseus is a literal sweetheart with a heart of literal gold - doesn't matter who someone is, if they need help, he's helping them! yes, even someone who probably doesn't deserve it like anyone on Team Eggman(even Eggman himself)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ that's probably how he met you, honestly. maybe you were wandering around, doing errands and something went wrong. out comes odysseus, ready to help! he's selectively mute though, so communication may be difficult at first, but it'd progressively get easier the more you two run into each other

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ of all my characters, odysseus is the least traumatized and the most emotionally aware and stable, so when he catches feelings, he doesn't change much. he was already pretty touchy, often communicating through gestures or contact of some kind since always having a pencil and paper is a hassle and not many know sign language - the main thing that does change? he starts to speak to you, verbally

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ that's probably the biggest shock, him running up to you with a smile and wave, and to your surprise?? he says "hey [name]" before you can get a word out! the look it caused was enough to make him laugh fondly with a simple "you're cute" ╰┈➤ sure, he's complimented you before on your behaviors or appearance - but something was different when he said it. the tender, playful tone in his voice combined with the softness in his expression was enough to bring a form of heat to your face as you tried to brush off the surprise. "i - i'm sorry i just-" the teal seel cut you off gently. "didn't expect it?" a soft laugh was your response as you nodded. "yeah, why the change? not that it's a bad one but -" he shrugged. "i trust you, and you're one of my closest friends."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ odysseus' love language is gift giving. he's often out in the waters, so he tends to collect a lot of pretty rocks and stones - even the occasional scale or pearl! he also dabbles in underwater ruins every now and again if he decides he wants adventure. so gifts start to become common - but small things. items that he claims remind him of you; like gorgeous sea glass or seashells!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this also happens to be how he confesses. one night, he invited you to a trip out to sea - just far enough to where the lights are in the distance, enough for privacy. he planned it specifically on a full moon, making sure the sky was clear and the stars were in view... ╰┈➤ the boat rocked gently on the water as odysseus guided you to the edge, where the railing resided. "i'll be right back - okay?" he didn't give you time before hopping into the sea with a grace that told you he's done this millions of times prior. while you were confused, you were content to lean against the metal, staring up at the dark blue sky reflecting in the moonlit water; it was breathtaking, really. hearing the rippling of water, and the sound of shaking, you knew he was back on the deck behind you. "why go into the water?" you questioned, amused with his actions. he only chuckled and spoke. "why don't you turn around and find out?" when you did as questioned, he was standing with a beautiful pearl in hand, and a flushed look on his face.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ after the relationship is official, he is more affectionate than ever! he often is seen either holding your hand or giving a quick kiss to your cheek in public. this carries into private too, but more soft and intimate, less energetic - from slow dancing in the living room, to coming up behind you and giving you a hug while telling you how much he loves you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ odysseus loves you so much, and would be a 10/10 partner. he listens to your needs and is always open to communicating anything - lots of little dates and nicknames; his favorite is calling you his pearl, especially when you guys are out on the water

[crazy56u]

Well, my stomach feels like crap, and a lot of things could be going better all over.

At least Ben gets to punch a Nazi this week.

Last time on Quantum Leap: Ian's shitty microchip is causing problems, Addison flushed her wedding ring, and Ben convinced a waitress to go into computer science.

And Ben gets to see that guy die again.

"GODDAMNIT LAWRENCE, 'PATHFINDER' ISN'T HELPFUL LAST WORDS!"

And Rock Paper Scissors time is interrupted by the computers breaking again.

"Do I have your attention?" If it turns out this is actually Janis hacking the Project again from Hawaii, and that's the real extent of the chip subplot...

"Look, Ian, I don't know why you're surprised that I'm the bad guy..."

Meanwhile, back in 1955, the cops are still not helpful.

"Hmmm... random guy finding a dying guy... ... ...you a Commie?"

"I'm gonna ask you to not leave town. Luckily, this episode is set entirely in this town."

Princeton 1955 is the most exciting place in the scientific community, right next to the place where the guy who discovered the BLJ in Mario 64 lives.

I honest to God hope they have Einstein cameo in this.

"Hey, we're three guys in suits and hats. Here's the waitress from the alien episode. And yes, that does mean a one-minute commercial break."

Hannah isn't a leaper, she just has an amazing skin care routine.

"Maybe the accelerator decided you needed a friend." Jenn, not for nothing, but that was unintentionally sad due to how you phrased that...

Oh shit, they invented the machine from Sliders.

Okay, so, knowing real world history, the Nazis are 100% gonna smash that thing.

"Look, I'm just a bald white guy talking to the guy from Quantum Leap, you don't need to be here, 1940s Waitress."

Oh, damnit, Einstein's already dead...

"You kept Einstein waiting, and he died. How does that make you feel, shithead?"

Hmmmmmm... I wonder if there is a connection between the evil spies circling the 1955 Project, and the subplot going on at the 2026 Project, that is a toughie...

Hannah just solved the formula for Red Bull.

MORAL OF THE STORY: The scientific community is misogynistic as fuck, even in the 1950s.

"Apparently, you're from New Mexico?" "Yeah, I had to move after this guy helped the sheriff bust a government coverup involving aliens and car crashes."

"Look, Hannah, I need you to stay in the episode, Einstein did secret science shit, I need your help."

"Have we met before, you remind me of Raymond Lee..."

The scientific method: Break into a dead guy's house.

"Magic picked a hell of a day to have a day off, it's almost like he's dealing with alcoholism or something..."

You went to Princeton in 2005, oh dear God, I am so sorry...

And we see that the guy Ben leapt into looks like a car salesman.

"Did you just refer to Einstein as 'Al'?" "Yeah, that means I'm cooler than you."

And Ben looks like he crapped himself.

"Okay, we're at the library that looks like Church."

"Look, Ben, if you decided to quit everytime Ziggy tells us there was a murder coverup in the original history, we wouldn't have a show."

I legitimately would not be surprised if it turns out people were lying and Hannah is actually a secret leaper.

"Is everything okay?" "Yep, totally fine, totally not gonna rip Ian's head off, what's a data breach?"

"Look, Ian, either you tell security what's going on, or I will be pissed."

At this point, just start throwing the books, maybe you'll get somewhere.

"Tell them to check the second floor. There, I did my job, I have a point in the show-" "Uh, I ain't going back into the Imaging Chamber, Ben fired me."

And Ben meets his replacement.

"Hi, Ben, I'm Tommy!" "(barely constrained look of resentment)"

"Look, I know Addison left you for me, but I went here in 2005, I know what I'm talking about."

"Wait, was it this wall, how do secret passages work again?" "Dude, what the fuck?!" "In my defense, I drank a lot!"

Oh, shit, I have that clock in my living room.

"Okay, if I were Albert Einstein... (fucks with the clock)"

And she has a Zippo, I'm starting to piece together how she died in that building fire...

Oh shit, a guy's doing jazz hands.

"Look, I don't care if you have a knife, you ain't getting in here!" "OH YEAH?! (shoves open door; causes a fire)"

[We are already lagging...]

[How many people are aware that M&Ms did a sequel to that ad a few years ago?]

Ben, you had a cane, why didn't you immediately clock him in the head?

"There, we got the journal, and we decided to not leave they guy behind to die in the fire for some reason, we are doing alright." "Ben, he killed Lawrence." "Okay, back into the fire he goes."

And there's the Nazis.

"Operation Paperclip": AKA, "The Governement wanted to make NASA, but didn't have enough scientists."

I don't know why, but the orange glow, plus the Kate conversation, makes Tommy look like he aged 30 years, I have to imagine that was deliberate.

"Oh, it's incredible, Einstein's journal fucking rules…"

So, what's the over/under on that journal getting burned?

"I studied Greek, it looks like Einstein was having a stroke…"

"If this works, it'll change the world." So, what's the over/under on that journal getting burned?

"Ben, that code will fucking break the world, it makes bombs." So, what's the over-

"Look, I don't care if you're Raymond Lee, but this is important science, I'm taking it with me-" "OKAY, FUCK IT, I'M BLOWING MY COVER, WE MET IN 1947!"

Okay, I meant that as a joke, I didn't expect Ben to actually do that, hot damn…

"Ben, stop breaking the rules!" "Fuck outta here, bitch boy!"

"I fucked up an Einstein quote, that's how you know I'm Raymond Lee!"

"Look, are you familiar with a guy named Samuel Beckett?"

"The most romantic bit of physics". Meanwhile, Addison flushed her ring.

"How long are you here for?" "My guess, I'm gone the second we burn that journal."

Uh oh, misogyny.

"Okay, I gotta dip, keep this." "Okay, cool. Zippo time!"

"Rachel, our secret shit fucked up the Project, I'm about to have a panic attack."

"What do you need?" "I need a data patch?" "That will cost me my job." "Again, panic attack-" "Ian, I was gonna say yes regardless."

"Hey, you wanna be a Nazi scientist? Let's take a trip to Glasgow! (slashes face)"

Oh, shit, the bald guy was the bad guy?!

"Ben, I need you to punch that bald guy, he's a Nazi."

"…um, I can't reproduce shit?" "… … …so, you know I'm a Nazi, eh?!"

[Annnd TEXT LIMIT!]

[aaronreinwald]

So I asked Bard to take THESE LYRICS (When I Come Around By Green Day)

I heard you crying loud, all the way across town 'Cause you been searching for that someone And it's me out on the prowl As you sit around feeling sorry for yourself

Well, don't get lonely now, and dry your whining eyes I'm just roaming for the moment Sleazin' my back yard so don't get So uptight you been thinking about ditching me

No time to search the world around 'Cause you know where I'll be found When I come around

Well, I heard it all before, so don't knock down my door I'm a loser and a user so I don't need no accuser To try and slag me down because I know you're right

So go do what you like, make sure you do it wise You may find out that your self-doubt means nothing Was ever there You can't go forcing something if it's just not right

No time to search the world around 'Cause you know where I'll be found When I come around

No time to search the world around 'Cause you know where I'll be found When I come around

When I come around When I come around When I come around

and turn them into a short story, these are the results:

Sure, here is a short story based on the lyrics of the song "When I Come Around" by Green Day:

The girl sat on the edge of her bed, crying. She had been searching for him all day, but he was nowhere to be found. She knew he was out there somewhere, but she didn't know where.

She thought about all the times they had spent together. They had been inseparable for years, but lately, he had been distant. He would stay out late, and he would come home drunk. He would always have excuses, but she knew something was wrong.

She heard a noise outside her window, and she looked up. He was standing there, looking at her. He smiled, but she could tell that he was sad.

"I heard you crying," he said. "I'm sorry I'm not around more. I've been dealing with some stuff."

"I know," she said. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm okay," he said. "I just need some time to figure things out."

"Can I help?" she asked.

"Just be patient with me," he said. "I'll come around."

He kissed her on the forehead, and then he was gone. She sat there for a long time, thinking about what he had said. She knew that he loved her, but she also knew that he was going through a lot. She decided that she would be there for him, no matter what.

The next day, she went to his house. He was sitting on the front porch, drinking a beer. He smiled when he saw her, and he invited her in.

They talked for hours. He told her about his problems, and she listened patiently. She didn't judge him, and she didn't try to fix his problems. She just listened.

When it was time to go, he hugged her and thanked her for being there for him. She smiled and said, "I'm always here for you."

She knew that he was still going through a lot, but she also knew that he was on the right track. He had someone to lean on now, and he wasn't alone anymore.

The girl and the boy continued to see each other. They talked about their problems, and they supported each other. They learned to communicate better, and they learned to trust each other.

Over time, the boy started to heal. He started to feel better about himself, and he started to feel more hopeful about the future.

The girl was there for every step of the way. She was his rock, and she was his biggest supporter. She loved him unconditionally, and she knew that he would never hurt her.

The boy and the girl eventually got married, and they had a family. They lived happily ever after, and they never forgot the day that the girl cried loud, all the way across town.

[kinfeelings]

30-day fictionkind challenge...all in 1 go!

My kintype is a (psychological? spiritual?) vaporeon pokémon whose sex I don't even know yet. Equal chances of being male or female. I'm trying to figure out if I'm in fact a feral one, likely abandoned someplace wild by an irresponsible human ex-owner as an eevee? Maybe?

My dysphoria is pretty light tbh. I used to absolutely despise being human when I was younger and full of debilitating self-hatred. I've gotten much better and healed since then, and I accept that I live in a human body; it's really not so bad. Hence why I call myself "alterhuman" instead of just "nonhuman" entirely. Still can't avoid nor ignore my otherness though, and I don't want to.

I am exclusively open with only some of my online circles about being alterhuman. Nobody I know IRL would understand at all. I'm okay with keeping certain things to myself.

I participate in the Pokémon fandom regularly! I play the games, occasionally watch the anime, and make my own AUs and fanfics and fanart. It's fun.

I often fictionflicker! Mostly for two particular (and very AU) protagonists (Randy Cunningham from RC9GN, and Jack Spicer from Xiaolin Showdown) of my biggest fanfiction/crossover project Retoldverse which I have a blog for here: @retoldverse-crossover-au. It's not a sideblog, I made my own separate new email/account for it to be its own mainblog. Not extremely active but ok I'm done self-plugging...as for other flickers, do other pokémon species count lol?

When I was a teen on Tumblr I gradually began hearing about "otherkin" and after while the mentions became so frequent on my dash, not always in a good light, that I decided to look into 'em and I at first was leery because it seemed very mockable but at the same time the notion seemed familiar to me in a strange way. I must've been...16 maybe? Maybe a little younger. I've been here ever since.

My introduction to fictionkin was basically what I said in #6 lol.

I am similar to vaporeon in that I like being in pools, rivers, and beaches. I can't fuckin' swim though...I sink like a rock whenever I try.

I don't look anything like a vaporeon whatsoever.

@aestherians

I know/have seen a bunch of fictionkin of all kinds.

Never had a canonmate. It would be nice to have at least one.

I doubt it's possible for there to be a double of my kintype because I am just a random vaporeon, not canon to any existing media at all.

Shifts are nice. I get them most often when I'm in or near a body of moving freshwater, less so but still noticeably when I'm in a manmade pool, or when I'm watching environment ambience videos about lakes/river sounds/visuals on YouTube. It can also happen randomly, just springing up on me suddenly.

I don't like KFF, especially not the ones who actually know and understand what they're doing and still do it anyway.

I like symbols/flags/etc. They're neat.

I used to think my kintype was spiritual but now I'm not so sure. More likely psychological and parallel-lifey?

It definitely has something to do with my neurodivergence yeah. I'm autistic.

Nobody's ever pointed out to me that I'm "like a vaporeon" in any sense.

I would like to buy more vaporeon merch one day, probably stuff from Etsy. I have an art charm of a normal vaporeon and a shiny one on the opposite side attached to my wallet currently, I bought it from the Etsy store LoafiDoodles. Totally recommend!

I can't really think of anything I'd change about the fictionkin community tbh.

I appreciate the open-mindedness of the fictionkin community in general, and also in the entire otherkin umbrella.

I can get pretty obsessive over Pokémon in all honesty lol.

The worst anti-fictionkin take I've seen is one we're probably all familiar with: "You're delusional, you're schizophrenic, you're trying and wanting to be something you're not." I hate hearing it.

Haven't seen any "best" anti-fictionkin arguments, imo.

I like listening to environmental ambience of running freshwater like I said before. Not really music except for abstractly.

Sea lions!

I have a favorites folder on DeviantArt just for vaporeon fanart that I really love.

I love fish tacos and I like to float in swimming pools and wade in rivers whenever I get the chance to and the weather is right.

It's pretty cool being a vaporeon, overall. I wouldn't change it.

Link to the blank challenge.

Did it all in a single post because I'd most certainly forget to complete it day-by-day if I did it the normal way.

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: SEASON 3, EPISODE 3-“Application Anxiety" (Part 2)

bint. / (bɪnt) / noun. offensive, slang a derogatory term for girl, woman.

According to Mr. College Admissions Dork, the following fatal errors will guarantee your REJECTION! From Harvard. Bad handwriting (how quaint) Your chosen after school activities are considered boring to Mr.Dork. You don't have enough after school activities. Not enough means you're not trying hard enough. You take too many after school activities. Too many means you're trying too hard. As per Mr. Dork, nobody is interested in everything, and if you like too many things you will be !REJECTED! You submitted your application too early. You are a hopeless idiot if you believed the myth of "Early Admission". Ha ha! Dumb idiot kids! You're too intense. Hyper intense students will FAIL their admission interview! Mr. Dork along with his cohort, Mrs Dork, the delightful rays of sunshine they are, seem to find great joy in publicly dragging their own future students, mocking children who dare to dream of Ivy League admission and cover their walls in university paraphernalia, calling them "hungry and immature". These people are assholes. I think Season 1 Spitfire Rory would have pushed these admission dorks right off the stage. QUIPPY! Rory is wetting her pants and Paris is twitching. Let's flash back to early season 2, where Rory was contemplating some potential after school activities. *sparkly flashback music*

The extra cirricular/summer school options visible behind Rory were: Junior life saving, rock climbing, botany, contemporary art, hiking, loom weaving, local geology, role playing (????), field hockey, and Shakespeare. Harvard will be jumping to accept the applicant with a strong Role Playing/Loom Weaving background. I guess the Asshole is technically not wrong that the school newspaper seems passe* with those options available.

The Dot-Com Bust. How quaint. I'm old enough to remember hearing about it at the time (I was still a teenager) but thanks to GG I decided to do a little research on the topic and learned more about it. Thanks Emily!

The notion that college=guaranteed success? How quaint. And Rory majoring in journalism is the cherry on top of the Quaint Jello. It's okay, she couldn't know. The brutal and hilarious truth is that Jess (who didn't finish high school but is already a published author and running his own business by 21) and Dean (who ended up working in construction, which tends to pay very well) were more succesful than Rory with her Yale education in the end. In fact, Rory had the nerve to needle Dean in S4 about his construction job when she has an Ivy League education but won't even take a job waiting tables. Hell, it's even implied that Luke is sitting on a lot of money and he didn't go to college (although maybe not the best example, as that might have been an inheritance, I can't remember if it was ever discussed in detail). Hell, pretty much everyone in Stars Hollow didn't go to college and they seem very happy with their little working class lives. And if Jess didn't dismember Shane and dump her body in the lake she'd have made a good living as a hairstylist or makeup artist. In a later episode this season, Lorelai turns up her nose at the thought of Rory not going to the most elite college and implies that beauty school and community college are beneath Rory. But lemme save that special rant for when that episode comes along. However, in a few moments, Lorelai does tell Rory, "You HAVE to go to college." I get it, okay. I get what she's doing. She wants Rory to reach for the stars and do better in life than she did, get a good education etc etc. But this notion that attendance at an elite college as the only possible means to achieve success and anything less is just short of failure feels short sighted. Emily continues: the competition is fierce for admission, every student takes honors classes and works on the student council, a high GPA is not enough anymore, Rory needs to do something to stand out, extra cirriculars, etc, etc, we know, we know. Emily: Now even celebrities are going to college. I was watching that insipid Kate Hudson and even she talked about going to college. She's going to get in over Rory! Kate Hudson must have been a big deal in the early 2000s (I vaguely remember it) because they reference her a lot. Almost Famous came out in 2000 and How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days came out in 2003 and she made 11 movies total between 2000-2004. So that tracks. Back on her home planet, AmyShermanPalladino must have picked up an Earth People magazine and read about how Kate Hudson was popular with Earthlings. Really funny that Emily is more aware of current pop culture than any character under 35. Lorelai's still over here spouting references to Yo Yo and Dingus from 1973 or whatever. Lorelai: Don't worry about it Mom, Rory's special, she'll get in to Harvard. Emily: Of course Rory's special. She knows that, I know that, you know that, we all know that. Years of that "Rory's a special snowflake who can do no wrong" talk is definitely not going to have adult Rory up to her eyeballs in therapy bills. Rory shows up at Emily's and Lorelai, Rory, and Paris (on the phone) proceed to have a three way simultaneous Nuclear Panic Attack over the Harvard applications. The next morning at the Gilmore abode, Lane is visting and fielding phone calls about her rock band personal ad. Still no Rygalski.

If that's what you want.

A SMALL CHILD IN STARS HOLLOW! HOW DID IT BREACH CONTAINMENT!

This dapper gentleman addresses Luke as "Sir" , orders an "Egg cream" and offers to pay for his meal (so he's definitely an outsider). Another child and then a manchild (Kirk) followup with requests for other malt-shop items that nobody has ever ordered outside of a 1950's Archie comic. ,... Waaaaait a minuuuute. I know what's happening. These children are Taylor's operatives sent to scope out Luke's Diner. The "Taylor Opens an Ice Cream Parlor Next Door" plot will soon have liftoff.

Between telling a small child to go to hell and insulting Dean to his face for no other reason than he felt like it, I could not love Luke more in this episode.

Things googled while watching gilmore girls: *Passe (I definitely think I used this word incorrectly). Bint Common extra cirricular activities Dot com bubble burst Kate Hudson IMDB How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days Almost Famous

[kyleloyd]

Kyle Loyd's Manifesto

Manifesto Kyle Loyd If you're on time, you're late; if you are 15 minutes early, you're on time. After reading my blog posts this semester, I related everything to My family; being a Great Husband, Father, Son, Brother, and Uncle is part of my identity. Fishing and Hunting are also things I relate to and are a big part of my identity. Growing up, I fished almost every weekend with my dad, I loved it, and I can't wait for the countless fishing days I look forward to having with my family. I even fish tournaments with my wife as my fishing partner. Being a good cop is also part of my identity; Work is a massive part of your life; most of the time, you spend more time at work than you get to spend with your family. The past few months put this in an excellent perspective for me. I told you about a bad call I was on a couple of months ago where I almost didn't come home to my family. That call rocked me to my core; I work to make my community a better place, a safe place for my children to grow up in. It's hard to be a cop in 2023; our government has trained people who were terrible, and we aren't people with families as well. No one hates a lousy cop more than a good cop, but the good cops get punished for a few bad ones. The fact that I almost got killed because a gang member jumped out of a car on a traffic stop and ran and tried to shoot me rocks my world in the day and age I have to raise my children. People are not holding people accountable anymore. It's a terrifying world today. That's why my life revolves around my family; this has been a tough semester for me; my father had a massive heart attack we almost lost him; Im so thankful to have him here with us today; he is my hero. I would be okay with being just half the man he is. His family comes first; he works hard to provide everything for his wife, kids, and grandchildren. Hes so inspiring; I'm so blessed to have the dad. I do know a lot of people who don't have great dads. I got the greatest one, and I strive to be the same for my children. Being a patriot is also part of my identity; my parents are enormous patriots and raised us to be the same; we live in the best country in the world, the land of the free and home of the brave; 15 years ago, my dad wanted to come up with a way to give back to our active military, there are so many programs for veterans, but what about our active military that is away from their families fighting for our freedom? as I have told you earlier Fishing is a part of the man I am today, My dad decided let's take some troops fishing, It started 15 years ago at the Goodland boat ramp we took ten soldiers fishing and had some hot dogs and hamburgers in the boat ramp, fast forward to 2023 we Take 200 troops Fishing, we bring them to Naples put them up at the Naples grande from Thursday - Sunday, Thursday we have a captain meeting where all the captains inshore and off shore get to meet the troops they are taking, go over the rules and how the tournament goes, Friday is a free day for them we have sponsors the pay for them to golf or captains will take them to prefish or to the beach, or they can just. Hang at the Naples grade by the pool or the beach—Saturday, the big day, the best day. We get up at 3 am and head to the hamilton harbor yaught Club. The troops are bused over from the grand with the CCSo motorcade, dropped at the boat barn, and walk through while we all clap and greet them and get on to their captain's boats, they have a shotgun start at first light, and we GO FISHING! We have a live weigh-in with a crowd in the boat barn. After the weigh-in, it is off to shower, change and head to the big ballroom at the grade for awards and dinner. This is all fundraised, but the board of Naples takes soldier fishing all year from a bass tournament for first responders, bowling night, a golf tournament, and generous donations from all our sponsors like Yeti and pro bass shops is one of my favorite weekends. Of the year, and I'm so blessed to be a part of it and proud of what my mom and dad created.

[b4nka1]

Hey, are you open to write for kakashi? (or obito) How does a fic/hc about roommate kakashi or just friends to lovers with kakashi sound. Like tension? Yes please. I love this stuff Thinking about this man seriously makes my knees weak;

I hope you're doing good, take care ♡

hi there!! i am open to write for any naruto character except a few of course, i will sooner uploading a masterlist where i will mention what and all animes do i write for. and of course! i'm absolutely open to write for my faves, kakashi and obito hehe. i hope you enjoy this!

roommate!kakashi x reader, reader insert, gn!reader

warning: a curse word or two

when you first decided to move away from your house to study in a university far away, your parents weren't pleased about the fact that you will have to live far away. you assured them telling that you'll call them and communicate with them whenever you found free time.

so when you started searching for dormitories to live in, you heard from your friend konan that one of her friends lives alone at her dormitory and he needs a roommate.

since you didn't have many better options, you decided to meet up with her friend, kakashi.

you rung the doorbell and waited for him to answer it. you knew konan had many guy friends, but you were sure you hadn't heard about this guy.

the door opened, so did the zipped of your pants (almost). there stood a white haired man, with a cute mole on his chin, and he had gray sweatpants and a black sweatshirt on.

he gave you a smile, and held his hand out. "i'm hatake kakashi! konan did tell me that you were gonna come over. come inside and have a look!"

his voice was so deep yet so beautiful, you could swim in that deep voice of his. you went in, and took your shoes off.

you explored the apartment and were extremely satisfied with it. after a few conclusions and rental agreements, you decided to move in within a week.

after moving in, you both didn't talk much at the beginning. but as time passed by, you both got more comfortable with each other. you both decided to go out to eat every friday evening, and the winner of rock paper scissor decides which restaurant to go to.

yall even began sharing your thoughts and life stories with each other after a while. whenever he cooked something for himself, he always made a portion for you too and vice cersa.

the cookies that he baked disappeared in a week, only for him to find out that you used to sneak them in your room before going to sleep.

you both soon got a pet, a dog, who you named pakkun. he was grumpy but very cute and sweet, and kakashi already had an experience with such dogs, so he was fine with taking care of pakkun.

life went on like this, and one fine day, you both realised that you are falling for each other. the friday dinner outings felt more like dates whenever he brought you some flowers or one. the movie nights felt so comfortable, as if you both were something more than friends. it was something you couldn't explain, so euphoric.

one day, while yourmovie marathon weekend, you both were cuddled up against each other. as the movie ended and the credits began rolling, he asked a question. "do you think..you like anyone?" your cheeks heated up, and you nodded.

"what about you?" you asked him, and he nodded too. "okay, on the count of three, we confess our crushes to each other, okay?" he sat up straight and looked at you.

"three...two...one" "-you! -you!" you both simultaneously said at the same time. it took you a while to process and when you did, you both burst into a fit of laughter.

after confessing your love, you both began dating after a while, and thus bloomed a beautiful relationship, thanks to konan

[bontenten]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Shirabu x f!reader WC: 5.6k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairy tale retelling, incest, dubcon/noncon, drugs (sleeping pill), somnophilia, abusive past relationship, implied rape (not Shirabu), panic attack, victim-blaming, hero-complex with a bit of god-complex, hints of yandere, uhh medical malpractice, Shirabu’s bangs

Summary: The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. Shirabu will do everything he can to keep you in a safe haven where you can freely dance with your prince once upon a dream.

A/N: This is a part of the whorehouse intoxicated collaboration, rest of the pieces of this toxic journey can be found here! Thank you Ria and Angel for helping beta <3 Love you both so much.

Unofficial bgm: Once Upon a Dream & Once Upon a December 

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers, pulling you back by a handful of hair. You feel a blanket of pain shoot across your scalp. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

"G-get away from me!" 

You thrash and kick your legs wildly hoping something will land. The moment you hear a pained grunt and feel his grip loosen, you scramble up to your feet and run. Your shoes grate against wet cement as you take off. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you will your legs forward one after another. The caw of birds seem to act as a beacon leading you through the twists and turns of the terrain.

A left turn here, two blocks straight. Past the corner store and beyond the stoplight. Three blocks. Right turn. Two Blocks. Five steps away. Four...Three..Two...Safety...

----

"In the forest, the princess played with a lot of animal friends. She grew up there in the cottage with three fairies looking after her."

Thunder claps and lightning strikes outside.

"It's so loud Kenjirou-nii!" you cry, burying yourself into Shirabu's arms.

"Shh, I'm here," Shirabu coos, rocking you back and forth until your sobs subside. "One day, the princess was singing with the songbirds..."

Shirabu begins to recount the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty to you, slowly easing your mind away from the turbulence outside.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

You shake your head and jump again when the thunder claps over the roof of the house.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Big brother’s always going to protect you."

"Like the prince protecting the princess?"

"Yes, exactly. You're always my princess, now go to sleep. I'll wake you when the sun's up.”

After a while, you calm down and slowly drift into sleep with your breaths evening out. Shirabu pulls the covers over both of you and enters sleep as well.

The winds continued to howl outside the window...the branches tapping...tapping against the window...tap...tapping…

----

Shirabu Kenjirou opens his eyes. He had just fallen asleep while studying for the third time that night. There is no use staying at the library if he is going to treat it as a hotel; he’ll be better off going home first. He yawns and stretches his neck, then packs his bags to return to his apartment. There are few students left in the building at this ungodly hour. Dark clouds loom overhead and the air is filled with the pitter patter of autumn rain hitting cement. Shirabu zips up his coat, opens his umbrella, and walks into the dark.

You would have been so frightened by this sort of weather, whimpering under your blankets, counting sheep with shaky breaths. Just like how you did in that dream of his earlier.

While growing up, Shirabu hadn't cared all that much about anything else considering he spent most of his time with his studies or playing volleyball. Although there was you, his little sister, he figured you had your little bubble anyway. But on a stormy night, you teetered down the hall after finding your parent’s room locked. Afraid and sleepy, you looked for comfort elsewhere and arrived at Shirabu’s room.

Shirabu had been most irritated and decided to shoo you out with strings of curses and profanities, but he couldn’t. The sight of your form huddled right outside his bedroom, with young eyes pleading for him took hold of a bit of humanity in Shirabu’s heart. So, he let you into his room, a safe haven, and eventually a world that was composed of only the two of you against the rest of the world.

Shirabu has known for a long time that you are the most brilliant, precious, and purest thing he’ll ever encounter. Always perfect. Forever unsullied. 

There are many things that Shirabu wants to shield you from. If he can secure one more hour of innocence, one more day, one lifetime, he’ll do so without a moment of hesitation. The real world is unlike the fairy tales that you hear about while growing up. 

The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. There isn’t a handsome prince the princess meets in a forest. No color changing cake. No kiss of love. In the real story, the princess is put into an endless slumber and has her virginal body taken by some unknown beast of a king, used like a rag for his carnal pleasure. When he leaves, the sleeping girl is then forgotten like trampled daisies under the hooves of horses. And she will wake to find her womb bulged with bastard life as a result of the damnation. The stretches clawing around the navel as permanent reminders that nothing will wash him from her.

The real world is dark. Horrible. Wretched. Dirty. Filled with suffering. That is why he, Shirabu Kenjirou, responds to the call to action and enters a life of service. In his heart he yearns to save and help, even if just a little, by becoming a prince with a white coat. He will not give up trying to salvage pieces of humanity he’ll touch, and in the process, carve out a haven, a little forest with a cottage, for his dearest sister to safely live in.

It has been a while since he last heard from you. Partly his own fault, really. Ever since Shirabu entered university and then medical school, the number of times you two would meet up dwindled. The hours on the phone became texts and soon after, communication vanished into mostly silence.

You are in university now, grown up and stepping into the real world, but that doesn't mean you are no longer his little sister. And because you are the one and only, Shirabu feels that he should try to do a better job as an older brother and check-in with you to see how you are doing. So, Shirabu takes out his phone that’s still on silent after studying.

27 missed calls from Sister 

Shirabu pauses in his tracks and returns the call. Cars zoom by on the streets while he waits for the line to connect. 

He was right, you must have been frightened.

The first call doesn’t connect, so Shirabu immediately tries the second time. You pick up on the third attempt.

"It's me, I'm so sorry I didn't pick up earlier."

"K-Kenjirou-nii..." your voice weakly translates over the speaker. 

Shirabu presses the phone closer to his ear and turns up the volume. "Where are you now," he demands. "At school?"

"...Your place..." Your voice sounds so dangerously faded, like petals beaten to the ground from the rain.

Shirabu bolts. His apartment is just a couple blocks away. Around the corner just up ahead. Shirabu makes a sharp turn and splashes through a puddle. 

"Stay...on the phone with me," he urges, paying no mind to his soaked shoes and socks.

You nod in understanding, as if he’ll hear your action.

"I'm almost there okay, almost."

Shirabu isn’t lying. A few moments later you hear the frantic footsteps coming closer to you. The stomping noises make your skin crawl, but the familiar face of your brother melts those fears away. He appears with his wet bangs stuck to his face and his shoulders heaving up and down. It’s him, your niichan, your prince finally here.

You scramble up and dive into his open arms, in relief that you are safe at last, as you finally allow tears to mix with rain.

"I was so scared. I missed you so much, Kenjirou-niichan," you sob into Shirabu's wet coat. "Where were you, where were you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here now, I'm sorry," Shirabu apologizes, "Let's go inside first, alright? We’re both drenched.”

----

Under the bright lights of the living room, Shirabu gets a better look at you. You catch his discerning eyes studying you up and down, visually tracing the markers of your demise. That’s when you crack.

“Kenjirou-nii...the real world, the world is a horrible place. I trusted him, you know? I trusted that man.”

Foolish and stupid, Shirabu wants to say. It’ll be easy to simply yell at you.

Shirabu is not someone without a temper. He was quite known for it back in his high-school days. The bruises, the scars that did not heal well. Shirabu reminds himself to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He’s to be a doctor. He’s to be a protector, a savior. And with the training he already has so far, Shirabu knows he’s already as good as any board certified, licensed white-robed saint. He just needs to do what he’s meant to do. Heal. Clean. Purify.

After listening to your brief tale, Shirabu tells you not to worry about anything else tonight other than take a hot shower and get some rest. He gives you a reassuring smile and sends you off to the bathroom with towels and a large t-shirt.

While you wash-up and lose your thoughts piecing together the messy events of the night, Shirabu paces in the living room after he changes his own wet clothes. Nevermind the medical books he still needs to pour over, all Shirabu wants to do right now is track down the culprit and stick a scalpel through his socket. No, that’s just too easy. That bastard deserves something much more horrible, a slow and patient torture, a death within grasp but just out of reach. As if agreeing with Shirabu’s thoughts, your phone on the coffee table lights up. Shirabu picks up the device and watches the notifications pop-up.

Shirabu sees an unknown number call you. He doesn’t pick up, letting the phone ring while he reads the numbers across the screen and commits them to memory. The phone calls stop and an onslaught of texts follow; some coherent and others far from decipherable. There are messages of broken apologies and confessions of persistent love. Requests for you to go back to him. Shirabu scoffs at the language.

Shirabu continues to wait with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. How dare the man behind that accursed number treat you, his little sister and princess, in such a foul manner. This beast who stole from you. Who is the reason behind the tainting of your now sullied innocence. 

Finally after a few minutes of silence, the screen lights up with a series of curses and condemnation that show the man’s true colors. A morphed beast due to your lack of response. Shirabu scrolls through the list of notifications again with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. 

"You will pay," Shirabu seethes, taking a knife from the kitchen and ramming the sharp end straight into the device glass. The phone buzzes desperately and goes dark. You have no use for that phone anymore after all of this anyway, and the cursed number is already memorized by Shirabu for his own purposes.

----

Shirabu’s room is tidy. The two bookshelves on either side of the table are filled with books, photos, and many other accolades. That’s your older brother alright: perfect, proper, always right. Always right about everything, except one thing. The world you know really isn’t the wonderland he told you about growing up. Not at all. 

You bury your face into Shirabu's pillows and will yourself to sleep. You are safe here in his bed. It’s a haven...safely tucked in a forest. You are in a forest. The trees and the breeze. Songbirds are singing. 

You can dance here, twirl about...safe...free…

The trees melt.

Birds squawk and screech, scampering away…

Ink engulfs you....swallowing you whole

Falling...falling…

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

NO! you try to scream. You can’t, the weight on your chest sinks you deeper, only silence is uttered...choked…

Wake up.

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes fly open and you see him. Him. A blood curdling shriek finally tears through your throat and you thrash. "Getawaygetawaygetaway! NO!"

"It's me, hey, it's me. You're okay, you're safe." Shirabu’s eyes widen with worry at your outburst, but gives you ample space to breathe and compose yourself.

This familiar voice. It does not belong to him. It’s definitely not him.

"...Kenjirou-nii?" you ask quietly. The shadow is backlit from light coming in through the door and your vision is still fuzzy from the nightmare.

A tender hand closes around yours. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay now. It was a bad dream, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here."

Cold sweat runs down your temples. Your breath is fast and shallow.

"Follow me, okay. Breathe in..." Shirabu takes a deep breath. You follow his voice and movement as if they are lanterns guiding you through a maze. "And breathe out. Good, you're doing great. Breathe in...and out..."

You feel your mind slowly beginning to clear with each inhale and exhale. Finally, you see Shirabu clearly again. You can smell the scent of his body wash from him. The texture of the blanket rubs against your fingertips. You’re here in Shirabu’s room. Safety. Haven. 

"I'll be right back," Shirabu tells you, before leaving you for a moment and going towards the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, pops out a few white pills from a box.

"Here," he says holding out the small tablets in the middle of his palm. The off-white seems to almost glow in the dark.

"It's zolpidem, a sleeping pill I sometimes take for insomnia. It'll help you for tonight, and then we'll get you something else tomorrow that'll work better."

You look at the pill and then at Shirabu. Shirabu is someone you love and trust with all your heart. His embrace is your anchor and haven when the rest of the world has turned a blind eye. He’s your brother. One and only. There’s no reason not to trust him.

"I won't see him will I?"

"No," Shirabu affirms. The pills don't really manipulate dreams, but if reassuring you can placebo sweet dreams, then what harm really is there? He didn’t pass Ethics with top marks for nothing.

Shirabu gently presses the pill body against your lips and you part them, allowing the small object to slip through. He feeds another and you open your mouth obediently. You look at Shirabu’s eyes which are fixated on the way your lips wrap around his three fingers.  Kenjirou-nii’s lashes are so nice and pretty, you think. 

One gulp of water later, and you feel nothing but a cold sensation traveling down your throat and disappearing into your belly.

"It'll take about half an hour, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Shirabu says. He supports your back and gently lowers you back into the comforts of the plush mattress. Shirabu will surely carry the same attentiveness and care when he becomes a full-fledged doctor. You are sure of it. The big brother you grew up with has truly grown up and matured. But no matter how much he changes or how much you mess up, he’ll always be your big brother.

"Can you lie down next to me again, like when we were young?"

An innocent request from a patient-in-need. Shirabu complies and lies down next to you.

"I remember when we were young, I would make you dance with me to live out my princess dreams. You remember?”

Afternoons next to the stereo, crayons scattered on the floor. The smell of something baking in the kitchen. Shrieks and laughter in the living room. Even though Shirabu would be mildly annoyed at first, he found humoring your imagination to be a pleasant and soothing experience. Even he was sometimes whisked away from textbooks into a magical forest that was just you and him. The stress and burdens of everything else all seem so much lighter on his shoulders when you’re simply just there.

"Of course I remember, silly."

You hum softly and continue waiting for the medicine in your bloodstream to make its way through your body.

"Do you...remember the sleeping beauty story you would always tell me?"

"Yea?"

You pause for a moment before quietly asking, "Kenjirou-niichan, why did you lie to me?"

Shirabu does not respond and only glances over at you, eyeing your closed lids. Closed though they may be, the tiny beads of glimmering tears are beginning to emerge from between the lashes and trail down your cheeks.

"There is no prince, Kenjirou-nii...no prince for me, no one...niichan...," you mumble between your breaths. The drug is starting to take its effect, ushering your mind into another dimension far away from hurt and pain. It swallows you like a pit of ink, sinking you deeper and deeper...

----

Kenjirou-nii, why did you lie? Earlier, Shirabu felt his breath hitch when you asked that. 

He calls out your name softly, brushing over your cheeks, and listening to your soft breathing for a good while to make sure you are in fact asleep. At long last, maybe this is a good dream.

A lie? No! Not a lie, Shirabu wants to tell you. For you, his dearest sister, who only ever deserves happiness, in the rawest and truest form. You are supposed to have a life of others giving gifts of love, never having to offer anything of your own.

Shirabu feels his blood boil once more at the thought of that man who stole your innocence away. The one who took your body for his own carnal pleasures. The one who dared to steal you from him, Shirabu Kenjirou. If Shirabu's nails are not kept in immaculate condition for his profession, no doubt, his grip would be drawing blood from his palms.

Those marks and scars across your skin. Shirabu traces his finger down your neckline and along your arms...

Your head turns from left to right and you manage to shrug the big collar of the t-shirt off your shoulder. Shirabu can see, under the glow of moonlight from the cleared night sky, a nasty mark. A permanent mark. And before he realizes it, his fingers are already traveling over, tracing along and testing out the patterns and bumps.

Shirabu feels his chest burn beyond the anger and fury. Guilt. Where was he all this time when you were suffering? Why hadn't you just called him then? Anguishing thoughts of his little sister writhing in pain under that beast's grasps tear Shirabu apart. Did you cry? Were you scared? All these years studying for what? For what noble purpose is Shirabu trying to pursue if he can’t even save those closest to him?

Shirabu continues to search for any other marks or discolorations that are splayed across your skin like a map. It is what it is now. But Shirabu still has his calling. He is a man who answers to a life of service and healing: a prince in a white coat. No matter what happens, even if you’re tainted now, you’ll still be his little sister.

Even if your naivety and stupidity got you into the mess in the first place. Of course, why didn’t you listen to your brother’s warnings and stay in a safe haven like a good girl? Stay in your room and study for your future like a good student? Like him? Why did you think running off for fun, enjoying “youth and freedom” like the other degenerates would be a good idea?

Shirabu grits his teeth. Look at you now, damaged and past the point of no return, used. Injured and ill. Still, he needs to get the full story first, and see where else you might possibly be hurt. A complete diagnosis needs to come first. After the messages from the man, Shirabu is all the more certain that there are more clues left, and he needs evidence. He needs to know. The comforter is pulled away and careful hands examine the lines of your palms.

Once upon a time, you grabbed Shirabu’s hand and tried to use the methods of schoolyard palm-reading on him. You even exclaimed, “Kenjirou-niichan, this line means you’ll live a long life! And we can be together forever because my life line is really long too!”

Shirabu smiles at the memory and presses a kiss to the center of your palm. It must have been so painful, how could you have possibly endured? But you did and you survived. You are so brave. 

Probing fingertips trace across your collarbone and push the fabric of the large t-shirt up to reveal your torso. Shirabu blinks, realizing that this is now the body of a fully matured woman. You take a deep breath in your sleep from the cold air running across your exposed breasts. Shirabu can see the nipples perk up from the chill and hesitantly touches the bud with a hint of academic curiosity.

“Mmm, that tickles...” you giggle softly. Your hand pushes Shirabu's off and scratches the same spot he just traced, fondling your own breast briefly before letting go and continuing to sleep. Even grown up now, still the same adorable little sister.

Shirabu lets himself tease your nipples and knead the soft flesh of your breasts, toying around and watching your cute little expressions. Sometimes you’ll respond again and paw the tickling hands away. It’s fun, like playing a little game.

But when he lets his eyes wander down, Shirabu’s eyes narrow. Below the breasts, on either side of the waist, Shirabu sees damning marks of deep purple turning into a disgusting yellow. Like cursed claw marks. Shirabu hesitantly presses on the bruise, watching the color transform under his touch. He stops immediately when you begin to whine in pain. Carefully, Shirabu presses a kiss on these markings too, just like any other little injury you sustained in the past. A kiss so the pain flies away.

Foolish, foolish girl. Naive princess. Why did you let this happen to yourself? In the future, don’t run anymore. Stay here where it’s safe. 

There is just one place left Shirabu did not examine yet, a hidden spot that is supposed to be locked away that someone else discovered. Shirabu looks down at the dark lace panties obstructing his view like gates of a castle. It’s a poor “keep out” message; if anything it entices anyone who sees it to come in. A tempting invitation to see what’s behind.

Shirabu allows his clean fingers to easily slip through and begin a thorough investigation through the soft folds of flesh. His fingertips dip into a pool of wetness. He furrows his brows. When did this happen? 

Why are you wet? His eyes focus on your sleeping face that still has a relaxed smile. What are you dreaming about that makes your body like this? Shirabu drags the fingers covered with your slick to circle your clit. In response your thighs clamp and twitch. So sensitive, still inexperienced, even if you’re sullied. 

Shirabu slides the soaked panties off and pushes your thighs apart so he can continue his examination. That person must have touched this area too, his fingers have been here, and then…plunged his fingers into you like so. Your body trembles as Shirabu’s two fingers probe in, fully examining your inner anatomy. Soft, warm muscles clamp tightly around his digits and try to stop them from entering further. It’s for your good and his knowledge. He pushes deeper into you, dragging alongside the bumps and ridges of your walls.

You whine loudly and arch your back when Shirabu’s fingers find a sweet spot. Your head shifts on the fluffy pillows.

“Did you like that? Did that feel good?” Shirabu asks, probing your hole once more. As if in agreement, your body twitches again and your hips automatically roll against the palm, pressing your sensitive clit into the surface. Your breathy sighs are soft and sweet, unlike any other sound Shirabu has heard from you. It’s like a spell that enchants Shirabu and beckons for him. He shudders as he feels his cock responding to each noise coming out from between your lips.

It’s good, something feels so good. Under the sunlight, you feel warmth pooling throughout your body. There are tingles in the soles of your feet, like grass tickling skin while running around barefoot. Your body feels so light and relaxed. It’s warm and you’re not in this forest alone. The shape of a prince appears. You know he’s a prince because his voice is gentle and his touch feels safe.

If this feels good, it’s only because this is an act of love. If this makes you happy, it’s because it’s love. If it’s love, it’ll fill the empty pools of hurt. And if you’ll be whole again, you’ll heal. Shirabu makes up his mind and caresses your cheeks tenderly, So beautiful. Always beautiful. A sleeping beauty. His hand reaches to the waistband of his pants.

The prince rests his hand on your hips and excitement jolts through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile back.

Shirabu freezes the moment he feels your arms wave into the air and reach for him. The sneaky fingers run across his skin.

"Dance..with me," you slur before falling back into silence.

The alarm washes away when he confirms you are still sound asleep.

"Are you dreaming of your prince?" Shirabu asks while tearing open a condom packet. Medical safety. He should have worn gloves earlier too, if he wasn’t already too entranced. "Dancing? Then I'll dance with you."

Forever. I'll be your prince, my sweet darling.

Shirabu runs the length of his hardened cock along your glistening slit. Rather than take, rather than pillage and steal...Shirabu will give. Replace the gross markers of pain with soft fleeting kisses. Replace the innocence stolen with love given unconditionally. Shirabu will give you all the love you deserve and more.

Shirabu’s fingers weave into your delicate ones, the palms join together, and your fingertips automatically lock with your niichan’s. It’s the starting position for a waltz in the forest, once upon a dream.

The man takes the initiation, the leading step. Shirabu closes the gap, sinking his length into your sweet embrace in a fluid and wet squelch. You respond, digging your nails and tightening your grip on his hands. Your other arm hugs around your partner, your niichan, pulling his body close against yours. Your blank eyes flutter open briefly to look straight at the shadow of Shirabu. Of course, you don’t see anything, you’re actually in a warm forest shyly gazing at your prince. Shirabu almost thinks that he woke you up, but you only let out a quiet moan before your body relaxes again.  

Shirabu groans and rests his cock in your warm and tight embrace. This is the way it should be, how it ought to be done. No one else can lead you in this dance the way he can. The way he will. This is not the self-fulfilling king stealing the princess’s virginal body for his own pleasure. This is the loving prince who loves and gives selflessly. Your big brother knows you the best, knows how you’ll respond, knows how you’ll like it. Shirabu slowly draws himself out and thrusts back in.

The prince presses himself so close to you, and you inhale sharply. During the waltz, you always have to maintain body contact with your partner. You feel his breath on your cheeks, and you’re sure he can feel your hammering heartbeat. The intimacy builds in the tender but secure hold. The steps are quick but the movements are not violent. It’s just enough that the heat stirring in your core spreads throughout your body.

Breaths become more labored and raspy into the act. Shirabu sees your face morph into bliss as he continues his pace and rocks his hips into you. His own brows furrow as Shirabu feels his grip over rationality falling apart with each thrust. Each flutter of your walls against him only invites him to come in deeper, farther. Harder. 

“...K-Kenjirou-nii...,” you softly cry out.

Your honeyed voice is a thick syrup trapping Shirabu, coaxing him. It’s like a melody inviting a weary traveler, a lost prince, in for rest. Your voice, your body, it’s tantalizing.

"Too good," Shirabu groans to himself. Why is it so good? You, his little sister, how? He looks down towards where he sees his cock, covered with your fluids, disappear into you. The thin latex barrier doesn’t stop how close the two of you are, Shirabu feels each clench and spasm around him. “My little sister, I didn’t know…” 

Shirabu can now understand just why that man did all that to you. Why that man wants to keep you by his side. Why he incessantly sends messages and tries to manipulate you back into their world.

It’s the only explanation, really, when you don’t even know how bewitching your body is. How enticing your voice is. Anyone would want to keep it as their own. Your warmth, your sweet, sweet hole. This cunt of yours is itself a safe haven. And Shirabu feels like he’s the one being made whole from you. It’s all because of you.

Each moan from you. Those gentle mewling cries, a witch’s spell, an incantation for addiction. That man is trying to manipulate you? How? When your whole existence manipulates everyone first, drawing them all in with the image of your unsullied purity.

Shirabu feels his impending release around the edge. His pace quickens and his thrusts meet with each of your twisting squirms. Your head tosses side-to-side on the pillow as your sleepy climax washes through.

Spin. Faster and faster in the forested ballroom. Twirl for the finale. You feel a dizzying jolt as the prince dips your body back. It’s a whirlwind of love. In your dream, the sunshine is so warm and growing so much hotter. It feels like you’re floating. So light and free. That prickling tickle in your feet is growing stronger until little fireworks set off across every corner of your body, filling you completely. The forest melts as the colors blend together in a dreamy painting. 

Euphoria, as Shirabu finishes spectacularly, clutching your sleeping body close to him in a messy ending pose. The final winds of the dead storm outside sound like a rumbling applause for this sinful waltz. He can hear his own pants and your shaky breaths mix into a fading duet. Shirabu lets himself bask for a moment, resting, entangled with you.

Everything makes sense now. He completely understands why the bastard king forces himself onto Sleeping Beauty. He completely understands why your allure is much too exquisite to pass on. Shirabu pulls out and carefully removes the condom, collecting the white essence you bewitched out from him into a little package with a tie. Dangerous little princess, that you are.

Even though Shirabu now fully understands the complete story after careful examination, there are still a few lines Shirabu will draw. One, that man has still committed a very grave sin, being the first to sample your purity, stealing that away from Shirabu? Damaging your flesh and skin? Unacceptable, he thinks as he tosses the used condom into the waste bin. A complete low-life who doesn’t know how to cherish. Punishment will be due.

Shirabu returns to the bed where your unconscious body is still sprawled between bunched sheets. His blank eyes study your spread legs and puffy cunt that’s still quivering every now and then. He taps his index finger against your sensitive clit. As if it is a magic button, your body briefly trembles on command. As if you are ready to enchant another unsuspecting traveler into your safe little haven. A little bit of fluid leaks out from your hole, presenting itself seductively. Welcome. 

Shirabu scoffs. And number two, you’ll be better off staying here with himself, your big brother. You’ll be safe here with a prince who knows best how to love you right, and give you the world. This is the way it should be; before you completely lose yourself into degeneracy and invite just about anyone into you. 

Those sleeping pills will be insufficient for the long-run. A different concoction while you are still healing from your terrible trauma will be needed. A cocktail of sorts that will target different needs. Yes. Shirabu files that thought away, putting it towards the top of his to-do list. There’s so many things he has to take care of. Too much pain in this world waiting for him to don white robes and be out there.

“But you’ll always come first on niichan’s list,” Shirabu whispers, slipping your panties back on and pulling the comforters over your body. He’ll never allow you to be sullied again. You’ll stay here in this safe haven, like a little cottage tucked away in the forest. Dream here. Find happiness with the only prince you need.

The first rays of dawn begin to brighten the sky, shooing away the cloak of night. The first songs from the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The morning light filters through the windows of the room, spilling over onto the bed and your quiet, unmoving form.

Time to wake up now, sleeping beauty.

[thechekhov]

Hi! I saw on a post that you're agender and I'm kinda questioning my gender (again) but what interested me more about that post was that you said you believe that gender is a social construct and I'm not really familiar with that theory. I was wondering if you could explain to me what the whole idea is? (bc I kinda only feel like a have a gender in social situations? In my head, my dreams and how I picture myself in the future, I'm genderless idjskahwksjejensj) Sorry for bothering you if I did.

This is a BIG topic and it opens a LOT of wormholes. 

We’re gonna do this in pie slice statements that will hopefully help explain what I mean. Please keep in mind I’m going to simplify many things for the sake of readability.

1) What is a social construct? 

Social constructs are ideas that are negotiated by social groups. Something being a social construct does not make it ‘not real’. 

For example, money is a social construct. Yes, we have cash - coins, credit cards - but these are physical props that are REPRESENTATIVE of the idea of currency. You have some form of credit to your name - the money is a socially agreed-upon idea of value being represented by bills in your hand, by numbers in your bank account. 

[Description: Two humanoid figures are standing side by side. The right-side figure is holding a rock in its hand. 

Right side figure: Let’s agree that this shiny rock is worth 2 sheep.

Left side figure: Sounds fake but ok.]

Technically, countries are also social constructs. We, as a society, negotiate what a country is, and this can be changed.

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of a dotted line drawn on the ground. The left figure is pointing down at it while the right figure watches, its arms crossed.

Left figure: Let’s pretend that everything on this side of the imaginary line is mine.

Right figure: ...ok but my house is over there.

Left figure: ... for 3 shiny rocks you can come visit.]

Does that mean canada isn’t real? No. (I mean, obviously canada ISN’T real, but we all agree to pretend it is.) The thing that makes it real is that we are in agreement, and all follow the social rules of pretend to make it seem like the Canadian border, the idea of Canadian citizenship, etc... is an objective fact. (It’s not. These are in fact, negotiable limits and parameters. We have laws in place to define it in legal terms, but those laws can be changed, or may change in the minds of communities. That’s why it’s a construct.)

By that same token, I hold the view that gender, as we largely perceive it in modern society, is a construct. Why? Because it is not inherent; we, as a society, negotiate its meaning. 

2) What is gender? 

People will probably fight me on this and that’s fine, but here’s my (simplified) understanding of gender (from someone who personally has none)

Gender is a social category negotiated by cultures based on your assigned or desired role in your community that influences, among many other things, your physical appearance, your role in family units, your expected position in jobs, etc. 

How I think it happened:

[Description: Two figures are standing on either side of the panel, both holding children-looking figures. The one on the left is wearing purple. The one on the right is wearing green.

Green figure: Hey, I’ve got an idea. What if we separate the babies into two groups based on physical traits they have no control over?

Purple figure: Wh-- okay...?

Green figure: And then limit the jobs they can do and the community ritual involvement available to them based on that!

Purple figure: ... I feel like this is going to backfire on us someday.

Green figure: Nah, it’ll be fine.

The past panel is a dramatic closeup on the purple figure’s face - which is featureless - betraying a deeply doubtful emotion. It says nothing.]

Important points to remember: what gender looks like, what the limits are, what the expectations are... are not inherent to any human biology. We make up gender roles. This is evident in the fact that across the world, gender roles differ by culture. The positions people of a certain gender are allowed to take up are different. What is perceived to be ‘girly’ or ‘boyish’ is different across cultures. 

Simply speaking - currently the (western) model we have, dumbed down, is:

You are assigned male at birth because of physical characteristics

You are raised being told to ‘toughen up’ and ‘boys don’t cry’ and encouraged not to show emotions

You are taught to wear male-coded clothes and discouraged from female-coded fashion choices

You are given more opportunities to participate in sports, encouraged to engage in physical activity, etc

You are not expected to need time off for child-rearing 

Here’s where gender as it works in society breaks down into being not a real thing but instead something we thought up: 

Nothing about having a penis necessitates wearing pants. Nothing about having XY chromosomes means you need to keep your hair short. Nothing about your genome makes the experience of nail-polish different for any human being. 

All of these are arbitrary traits we decided were allowed or not allowed to a specific group of people based on entirely unrelated physiology. 

Even if we delve deeper, there is MORE variation among individuals of the same ‘sex’ than there are, on average, of members of the ‘opposite sex’ when compared to each other. 

Many people use the excuse ‘women are physically not as strong as men’ to say that this has an evolutionary aspect driving these cultural, historical, socially-constructed gender requirements. 

But if there was a physical reasoning behind the culturally-set gender-limited job expectations, then we actually WOULDN’T need a traditional binary gender system to sort ourselves into categories. It would simply be decided as a meritocracy - stronger individuals, regardless of gender, would be given physically-demanding jobs. (Also we know that many jobs thought to be ‘traditionally male’ are just the result of sexist bullshit, so this reasoning doesn’t fly any further than I can throw it which is, coincidentally, not very far. Politics is one such area. Doctors are another. We can go on but I think you get my drift.)

My own example of this is an anecdote when my grandparents came to visit my partner and I in Japan. While we were driving down to Tokyo, my grandmother - who has a PhD in entomology - began to say that driving is a masculine activity and women shouldn’t be driving as it was ‘un-woman-like’. My partner almost immediately fired back that in Japan, studying insects or having any interest in them whatsoever was considered a heavily masculine-coded activity. In Russia, there is no such assignment, and my grandmother was left silently blinking in confusion, unable to come up with any excuse except ‘well, all cultures are different, I suppose...’

Do either of these things inherently have a gendered aspect? Of course not! But we assign gendered ideals to them anyway.

3) If gender is made up and constructed by society, then does that mean trans people aren’t real?

No.

Even if you agree that gender is a social construct, trans people are still real. TERFs don’t get a pass. Why? 

Because gender - as a social construct - still affects our everyday lives, dictates our social position in our community. Transitioning is still a thing that has to happen. The fact that you are NOT easily able to decide your own gender and are ostracized for wanting to transition, abused for dressing the way you want to be perceived, and bullied for wanting people to refer to you with different pronouns - all those are the effects of a social construct that has very REAL impact on our lives.

This is also why I dislike defining trans-ness by dysphoria. Because transgender people are not only their suffering - the suffering is coming from the outside!! Many trans people remember not being concerned about their gender identity in their childhood, because they did not yet perceive the world as being hostile to their desire to fulfil a specific role in society. The issues and self-hatred and dysphoria begins when they express wanting to be themselves - a life which they are forbidden from pursuing based on physical characteristics they were born with.

Does this mean we should try to remove gender from society? If we constructed it, we can deconstruct it, right?

Realistically, I highly doubt this is possible. Gender is so ingrained in our daily lives that it would be difficult. Nor, I would say, would it be necessary to achieve world peace. 

Having social groups - having gender - isn’t inherently a bad thing. The bad thing is when we limit those social groups to specific basic human rights, like voting, or when we forbid them from transitioning from one to another based on things that are out of their control. 

Also, I’m not saying genitals and secondary sexual characteristics aren’t real. Please don’t bother sending me that angry message, I’ll ignore it, I promise. 

But the concept of gender IS something we thought up and maintain and negotiate with each other to this very day. It’s not granted to us by a higher power, nor is it a constant, unchanging thing. It’s a part of the human experience and like everything, it has the potential to evolve - as a concept in our communal memory, as well as on an individual level, for people who feel they want to be perceived differently. 

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk!

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Lover of Mine #5 | Angel Reyes

part I | part II | part II | part IV | series taglist

Title: A Heavy Heart to Carry

Thought that I would change, but I'm the same guy Blamed it on my youth, but I know I've had time

a/n: split this original part into 2. the second half of the couple's retreat will be in 5.5

warning: a character experiences a panic attack

rating: 💔

Sum: Angel Reyes doesn't fear much, but he's scared to face you once it's set in that he's broken your cardinal rule. He must decide what's more important: maintaining a lie or sharing a secret that will change the way you look at him forever.

Words: 9.4k

“Take him home, Ezekiel. Now. I’m serious. I am going to fucking kill him if he tries to stay here tonight. And then, I’m going to kill you for letting him.”

These are the words that stopped Angel Reyes in his tracks. Left him standing on the front steps, afraid to move past the threshold of the front door to his own house.

When he pulled into the driveway, exhausted covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat and blood, Angel was met with a sight that somehow managed to wring the knots in his stomach tighter.

The light from the living room cast a golden hue across the dark lawn.

He knew the odds of you being asleep upon his arrival were slim to none. You haven’t waited up for him in years. There’s no need to wait up when you know his whereabouts.

At some point in the evening, the attempts of communication stopped. Angel isn’t sure why, but he knows it isn’t a good sign.

He’d pushed against Ez’s shoulder prompting him to step up to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Ez had shocked his older brother, stepping into the war zone to calmly produce some sort of explanation. “We had to go down south, and shit got--we lost track of time. By the time we got finished, we--”

“Now that I know that neither of you is lying dead in a ditch somewhere, you can leave.” Despite your words, Ez didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder towards Angel. “Or stay outside, I don't care, but he's not stepping foot in my house. Tell him I said test me.”

Needless to say, he didn’t.

Angel heeded the warning allowing his brother to drive him home. He didn’t bother calling you.

What’s the point of calling to apologize when you’ve just spent half the night ignoring the calls from the same person?

Hours have passed, and Angel hasn’t slept.

Although he’s now freshly showered, the cut on his hand poorly wrapped, Angel Reyes finds himself in the same predicament. Outside of your house.

Scared shitless.

Only this time around, Ez isn’t willing to risk his life for the sake of being collateral damage.

Both men remain in the driveway, eyes on the sunflower yellow-painted door of 1101 Rock Creek Avenue. Each is resting against the hood of Angel’s car. Waiting, silently willing the other to bravely ring the doorbell.

Angel releases the smoke in his lungs before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

“You gotta go in at some point,” Ez glances over at his brother.

Angel doesn’t respond. He drops his cigarette bud to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe.

“Especially since we’ve been out here nearly an hour,” Ez continues, a tiny smile finding his lips as the sight of Angel’s rolling eyes. “Neighbors are probably gonna put in a call--”

“I’m checking the windows,” Angel responds. The humor in his voice falls flat as his eyes search the front of the house. “Gotta make sure she doesn’t shoot me the moment I touch the driveway.”

“Shouldn’t have taught her how to shoot.”

The daggered stare sent his way causes the youngest Reyes to chuckle. Shaking his head, Ez takes a step forward.

“Angel. It doesn’t matter if you go in now or later.” He sighs. “If Y/N's gonna shoot you, she's gonna shoot you-- regardless of the time.”

“Yeah.”

Getting up, Angel crosses the lawn to the front door. Although he now has a key, he reaches forward to ring the doorbell. For a brief second, he considers turning around and heading back to his car.

His stomach tightens as the door swings open. He lets out a sigh of relief when he’s met with the sight of a smiling Isabela.

Her smile slips, her eyes narrowing as she stepped outside. She waits until the door is shut securely behind her to speak.

“What the fuck, Reyes!” She shoves hard against Angel’s shoulder, not blinking as he stumbles a step back. Angel massages his shoulder as she lowers her voice. “I orchestrated the perfect week for you two. All you had to do was show up with a packed bag, and you somehow managed to fuck everything up. Where the hell were you last night?”

Although he’s had all night to come up with an excuse, no coherent words come out when Angel opens his mouth. Isabela’s eyes roll, her attention shifting to a quiet Ezekiel standing just beyond his brother’s shoulder.

“And you. I thought you were the smart one.”

Ez looks away from a flushed Angel to find Isabela’s glare on him. He opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly Angel’s inability to speak has washed over the youngest Reyes.

“You didn’t think it was smart to drag him home in time for his son's recital?”

Angel’s voice has returned. It comes out lower than he’s intended. His eyes briefly shift to the front door.

“She’s--”

“Pissed.” Isabela sighs as she turns to the door. “I’d thank Bishop next time you see him. He talked her down last night.”

Isabela pauses just as Angel steps forward to follow her inside.

“Angel, she lied to Jeyson for you,” she says. “You need to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“Hey, lego master,” Isabela smiles as she steps back inside. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Jeyson is on his stomach, lying in the center of the living room floor. Chin resting in his hands, he is studying the progress he’s made on his lego set.

A grin brightens his face as Angel steps inside. He scrambles to his feet, pulling a chuckle from his father as he nearly crashes into his legs.

“Hey, lil man. You good?”

Allowing him a quick hug, Jeyson takes Angel’s hand in his. He tugs him towards the living room. He motions towards the legos on the floor.

“I finished all the escape pods! Now, you can help me with the left-wing--”

“Hold up,” Angel diverts Jeyson’s attention, lifting him off the ground, forcing him to silence. “I wanna talk to you about something--”

“Last night?” His question silence his father. Jeyson reaches forward, his fingers tracing the patch on Angel’s chest. “Mom talked to me already.”

“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to apologize. To say I’m sorry for not being there to see you play.”

“It’s okay.” The smile he offers tightens Angel’s throat. It is a smile that matches his words perfectly. A smile of forgiveness often comes when a child is willing to look past moments of a letdown if that means they can still spend time with that person.

“It’s not okay,” Angel admits. He watches as Jeyson’s gaze lifts to meet his before dropping to patch. “I broke a promise, and I’m not supposed to do that. I’m sorry.”

Jeyson studies his father’s expression. A smile slowly spreads across his face as an idea sets in.

“I can play it for you now.” He suggests, his attention moving to the piano across the room.

That’s where you find the two when you step into the living room.

Jeyson has finished playing and is giggling as he watches Angel try to match the series of keys he just showed him.

“What’s so funny?” Angel’s brow arches as Jeyson attempts to stifle his laughter. “I think it sounded pretty good.”

Jeyson shakes his head.

“You weren’t paying attention.” Reaching over, he moves Angel’s hand into the correct placement. “Your fingers aren’t in the right place.”

Angel’s gaze falls to his hands. To him, they seem to be in nearly the exact same spot. But he knows better than to argue with your son. He watches Jeyson’s fingers, trying to match the same tune. Only he can’t, the smile on his face growing once he realizes the tempo has changed. Jeyson plays at a cadence that seems hyper speed to his father but is nothing out of the normal for him.

“It’s not nice to show off,” Angel chuckles as he tickles Jeyson’s side.

Angel glances over his shoulder, his smile dampening as he finds you waiting patiently by the door. Jeyson’s smile does the same, his eyes widening once your conversation from last night sets in.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” you nod, watching as he gets up, his head hanging forward as he crosses the room. “Remember we talked about this last night?”

Jeyson waits until he’s standing before you to speak. With his arms wrapped around your middle, face pressing against your shirt, his words come out muffled.

“But, I want to come with you.”

“I know, but you have to stay and keep Isabela company. You guys are going to the carnival tomorrow. You're going to have so much fun.” Your fingers brush through his hair, a smile finding your lips as Jeyson tips his head back to look at you. “Besides, I won’t be gone long.”

“Five days is a long time,” Jeyson pouts. “You’re never gone that long.”

He’s right. The longest you and Jeyson have been apart being two days. For the weekends when he would spend the majority of his time at his father’s house.

“You can call me whenever you want,” you remind him as you squat down in front of him. “And then, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tommy Flores currently stands at the front of the line. The weight of the metal door causes it to slam shut with a loud bang.

The echo vibrates through his chest, the force doubling him over. The dialed-up pitch brings Tommy’s hands to his ears.

He’s stopped in his tracks. His silent plea, to stop the ringing in his ears, sparks a slew of grunted protests from the inmates behind him.

Officer Rogers stands near Tommy, his shoulder resting against the wall. Each time an inmate is escorted through the secured door, the guard slams it shut with as much force as he can. He watched as Tommy flinched each time, the sound louder with each step he got closer. Now that Tommy stands directly in front of it, the sound is too loud.

Rogers steps forward, his lips turning up into a sneer.

"You alright there, Flores?" The lack of concern in his voice is amplified by the soft chuckle he releases. "You look like shit. Rough night?"

It's a question, Rogers knows the answer to. Better than anyone--well almost anyone.

He was the one who woke Tommy, in the middle of the night, the glare of his flashlight blinding the inmate. He yanked Tommy from bed, hand-delivering him to the showers. He stood guard, watching as Tommy took each blow and kick sent his way. He hand-delivered Tommy back to his cell, denying his trip to the infirmary.

Rogers would never admit it, but he was initially shocked when saw Tommy shuffle into the visitation line. He knew Tommy had a scheduled visit but didn't expect him to have the strength to bother trying to attend it.

"Your girlfriend coming today?" Rogers continues as he watches Tommy's fist clench. "Must be. That's the only reason I could think you'd get up this morning. Maybe I should let your friends give you another round tonight. How's that sound?"

Tommy's body is bumped forward—a silent warning from his cellmate to move. The shove to his shoulder clenches his jaw shut. But Tommy knows better than to hold up the line any longer than he already has.

Each step he takes is slow, sending a jolt of searing, white-hot pain down his spine.

The swelling of his right eye limits his vision, but he’s able to recognize a familiar face in the crowded room.

Each grey table is occupied by anxiously waiting loved ones. Tired from the extensive process of being cleared for visitation day. Hopeful their time won’t get cut short due to the delay of the inmate's arrival.

As he’s shuffled forward, Tommy’s gaze is fixated on his feet. It’s easier to ignore the look of pure rage directed his way.

“Stop staring.” The smile on Tommy’s lips is a good attempt. No matter how much he wills it, it can’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Leonardo Flores's gaze slowly studies the man before him. He knows his younger brother better than anyone. The blue Stockton uniform covers most of the damage but judging by Tommy’s walk and shallow breathing, he’s nursing a broken rib.

Leo doesn’t speak until Tommy’s gaze lifts. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it seems you’re still getting settled.”

His observation prompts his brother to shrug. Tommy winces as he shifts to bring his hands to rest on the table.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tommy smiles.

“I thought this lawyer you got was supposed to be good—"

“She is.” Tommy’s sigh goes unnoticed. “She's good.”

“If she’s so good, why the fuck are you in gen pop?” His brother’s eyes roll, Leo’s head shaking once he gets no response. “Huh? She doesn’t seem too concerned about doing her job. If she was you wouldn’t have been nearly beaten to a pulp—"

Leo’s rant slowly fades out, blending into the surrounding conversations. It takes all of his concentration for Tommy to drown out the sound. Tommy’s eyes are shut, his left hand massaging his brow. The throbbing in his head seems to be getting worse. He flinches as Leo’s boot scrapes his shin.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say, Leo.” Tommy laughs dryly, the throbbing in his head pumping irritation into his voice. “She could pay off the entire fucking city of Santo Padre, it’s not gonna mean shit.”

His eyes open to see Leo’s jaw clenched. He presses on as Leo opens his mouth to speak.

“They put me here because they’re hoping I don’t make it to trial.”

“Judging by how you look, you won’t.”

Tommy shakes his head, dismissing the observation.

“I’m fine. I need you to do something for me.”

An uneasy wave washes over him at the sight of Leo’s rolling eyes.

“What?” Leo chuckles, his arms crossing over his chest. “Your brothers can’t help you?”

“I don’t trust the club with this,” Tommy admits.

No matter the amount of truth behind his statement, Leo’s expression doesn’t change.

Probably because Leo knows the truth. With the number of years he’s facing, Tommy will soon be forgotten by his fellow Horsemen. You’re only worth remembering if you’re valuable to the M.C. Tommy’s not valuable rotting in Stockton. It doesn’t matter if the charges he’s acquired were at the expense of the club.

“Leo—"

Leo’s sigh drowns out the plea in Tommy’s voice.

“What is it this time, Tommy?”

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat. His voice drops, his eyes briefly passing to the guard nearby.

Angel forgot what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your silent treatment. It’s brutal. Probably because you stick to it, religiously. The silence isn’t the worst part. He knows you’ll have to talk to him—eventually. He also knows that once you do, the words you’ve prepared will cut him to the bone.

When it comes to arguments, Angel operates on pure emotion—always ready to fight a war. He says the first thing that comes to mind, often trying to hurt whoever he’s arguing with before they can hurt him. He wishes you were the same.

You have an incredible ability to walk away from an argument on a whim. He can count on his left hand the number of times you’ve raised your voice at him. In all the time he’s known you.

You don’t see the purpose in having a screaming match. It never gets you anywhere. One of you has to operate on the side of logic. Angel has learned that once you’ve had the chance to get your thoughts together he’s in for a world of trouble.

He’d foolishly tried to get the conversation going the moment you both got in the car, but you beat him to the punch.

“I’m not talking to you right now.”

The declaration had come out just as Angel opened his mouth to speak. It also made him close his mouth, his brow furrowing.

“We’re about to drive for four and a half hours, Y/N,” he sighed, his eyes rolling as he sticks the key in the ignition. “You’re really not gonna say anything to me the entire ride there?”

He waits for you to respond, his eyes dropping to the bouncing of your knee.

“And then what? You’re not going to go speak to me at the hotel? What sense does that ma--”

“Trust me, Angel. You do not want me to say what’s on my mind right now.”

Angel’s not certain if it’s the admission itself, or the look in your eyes, but he silently redirects his attention to starting the car.

The four-and-a-half-hour car ride ironically turns into a six-hour trip of stop-and-go traffic. Six hours of Angel left to fiddle through the various radio stations while you silently scroll through your iPad.

At the three-hour mark, your voice breaks the silence, peaking Angel’s hopes. At this point, he’s willing to take you yelling at him if that means you’ll eventually talk again.

He glances away from the bumper-to-bumper traffic to find you holding up your iPad. The screen facing him, you ask. “Have you seen this before?”

He leans over the console for a better look at the image on the screen. His stomach drops as he takes in the jet-black stallion, his mouth going dry as his gaze passes over the red eyes.

“Thinking about getting some new ink?” He jokes his throat clearing as your eyes roll.

“Nevermind.”

Redirecting your attention back to your iPad, you don’t catch the nervous glance Angel sends your way. A few minutes of silence pass before he glances back in your direction.

“What’s it for? The uh--tattoo.”

“Work.”

That’s all he’s able to get out of you. Even after you arrived at the hotel, where you discover that Isabela has booked the two of you for the hotel’s honeymoon suite. Which comes with a complimentary package that Angel is almost certain you won’t partake in. He gets nothing out of you when you are both informed that your introductory session with the couple therapist on sight is in less than an hour after your late arrival.

The counselor, Dr. Mallory, currently sits across from the two of you. The smile on her face remains in place, even as she watches you put as much distance as possible between you and Angel. The task is nearly impossible with the small sofa she’s sat you both on.

Angel's eyes roll to the ceiling before he lets out a deep breath.

Dr. Mallory’s question breaks the silence.

“How long have you two been married?”

Angel’s eyes shift to you. He answers as your gaze remains focused on the pillow in your lap. “We’re not.”

“Divorced?”

“Seven years.” A dry laugh escapes his lips as he softly shakes his head. “To do the date...actually.”

“Oh, I see.” Dr. Mallory’s smile widens as her gaze passes between the two of you. “You’ve decided to join our retreat, as a means of reconnecting. Hoping to bring back, and foster, that love that brought your two beautiful souls together all those years ago.”

“Uh...yeah.” Angel nods slowly as Dr. Mallory’s hand shifts to rest over her heart.

Her eyes close, her smile softening as she lets out a sigh.

“Love is such a beautiful thing,” her eyes open as she continues. “And I am so happy to see the two of you are willing to give it another try. But, more so, I am honored that you have elected me to help guide you through this journey.”

“What exactly does this ‘journey’ entail? We’re not about to go sit in the desert and sing kumbaya or some sh--”

The elbow that digs into Angel’s side swallows the rest of his sentence. He glances over at you.

“It’s a serious question,” he coughs. “I didn’t realize we signed up for some journey that has to do with...souls traveling together…”

Dr. Mallory’s eyes had brightened at Angel’s question. Angel’s words trail off as he realizes Dr. Mallory is no longer seated. She is not standing directly in front of both of you. Holding two orange sheets of paper.

“I have accumulated a list of activities that will allow the two of you to get in touch with your inner selves this week.” She beams, not noticing the uneasy look that washes over Angel’s face as she continues. “One cannot love their partner wholeheartedly until they truly love themselves.”

Angel’s eyes quickly scan the list, realizing that it's more than a list of suggestions. It's a checklist.

“This week, the two of you will work on opening the airs of communication,” Dr. Mallory continues, motioning between the two of you. “Which I can sense are bogged down at the moment, by anger and mistrust. We want to take the time to open them back up--”

“No offense, Doc, but this isn’t going to work.”

“Mr. Reyes, I ask that you don’t speak that way this week. Everything that you put into your relationship can work.”

“It’ll be hard to work on our…” It takes all Angel has not to roll his eyes. “...airs of communication when she’s not even speaking to me.”

Dr. Mallory returns to her seat, her attention focusing on you.

“Angel is right. Ms. Reyes, care to share what’s on your mind with him? He seems eager to listen.”

Angel watches silently as you keep your gaze on the sheet of paper before you.

“Last night was the first night that I have wanted to kill you. And I mean it in the most literal sense, Angel.”

Angel’s throat tightens, his gaze dropping to his hands.

“You’ve done a lot of shit, Angel. But last night you didn’t see your son’s face when he realized that you were not showing up. You promised that you would never do that again.”

Angel attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. He shifts in his seat, his gaze briefly looking towards you.

“I know.”

“I had to get a call from the school telling me that you decided not to pick our son up. You could have picked up the phone, and called me.” The calmness in your voice does nothing to ease the knots in Angel’s stomach. “Since you’ve forgotten, Angel. You don’t get the courtesy of falling off the face of the earth. Club business, or not. You have a son.”

Angel doesn’t offer up a response. Primarily because he knows what’s coming next.

“What could possibly have happened that you disappeared off the face of the earth last night--and don’t say club business. Bishop is not that great of a liar.”

Angel swallows, his eyes briefly drifting across the room to where Dr. Mallory sits.

He can feel your expectant gaze on him, but he can’t bring himself to look at you.

He can also feel it rising in his throat. Words he hadn’t planned on telling you. His eyes drift shut as he sighs.

“I uh...I followed Samuel to this bar downtown.” A silence falls over the room. Angel looks up from his hands, watching as your eyes widen. “Aiden, he told me what he did to you--and I just wanted to talk to him.”

“And that’s all you did?” The look of skepticism sent his way causes Angel’s jaw to tighten.

“Yeah. I told him to leave you alone.”

Dr. Mallory interrupts the silence, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Samuel? Who is he?”

“Nobody.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “He’s her boss.”

“I went on a few dates with him,” you sigh. Your fingers massage your temple.

You already know where this conversation is going.

A smile finds Dr. Mallory’s face as she watches Angel shake his head.

“No, this is great.” An encouraging smile finds her face. “You see, you two are already past the most difficult part. Starting the conversation. Angel, tell Y/N how you feel about this situation involving Samuel.”

“You shouldn't have dated other people.”

Your brow furrows as his statement sinks in. “Did you miss the part where we got divorced?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying? Do you know how many women I had to hear that you slept with? Half of the time from you!” The sight of Angel’s rolling eyes is enough to make you shift in your seat. Turning to face him, you watch his jaw clench. “So you can fuck anyone you want, but it’s a problem when I go out on a date with someone?”

“Yeah.”

You blink, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. Clearly, you’ve heard him wrong.

“Do you know how hard it is watching you fall in love with someone else?”

“Oh my goodness!” Your voice comes out muffled against the palms of your hands. “What is it with you and Samuel putting more stock in this situation than it deserves? I wasn’t falling in love with him, Angel--”

“But that’s what you were looking for?” He cuts you off, the raising of his voice causing your hands to drop. “Why else do people date? Yeah, I slept around, but you never had to worry about me trying to replace you with someone else. For years, I’ve had to watch you go through relationships, bringing other men around my son like you were auditioning them for the role of his father--”

“You know I wouldn’t do that--”

“Yeah, well, we all do things we don’t think we’re capable of.”

“Well, Dr. Mallory. Congratulations. You have just witnessed the one thing Angel Reyes is always capable of doing.” You shove the pillow in your lap towards Angel. “Trying to make me feel guilty for something that he’s done. This time, I’m not apologizing to you for anything. And I’m not saying 'thank you' if that’s what this whole woe is me act is about. I didn’t ask you to go see Samuel. Just like I didn’t ask you to sit here and lie to my face.”

“I’m not lying to you--”

“You may have gone to see Samuel, but that’s not where you were last night. I know you, Angel. You didn’t skip out on our son for Samuel.” It’s an observation that gets the response you’re looking for. It’s a look that lasts for only a brief second. A look in Angel's eyes that tells you that you’re right. It disappears as quickly as it had come. “And until you’re willing to stop lying to me, I’m not staying here.”

Angel’s jaw sets. “Since we’re talking about capabilities, her specialty is walking out. She walked out on me seven years ago, and she’s doing it now.”

“Maybe this time, you'll actually stop and ask yourself why,” you mumble as you step over his feet.

Ez is sitting on the living room sofa. He’s not in the most comfortable position but hasn’t been able to move for the last hour. He’s drinking a beer, his eyes on the television playing quietly across the room.

He’s not even sure what show he’s watching. A series Isabela had roped him into. The room is pitch dark--apart from the glow of the screen--the house quiet. Jeyson has been asleep since his 9 pm bedtime.

Despite her need to catch up on her favorite tv show, Isabela is also asleep. With her head resting against Ez’s shoulder, her body curled up against his, Isabela has been asleep for the last hour. If asked, she’ll blame it on Ez. The second he allowed her to share the blanket with him, his body heat acted as a furnace. One that pulled her right to sleep.

Ez is currently debating on the best way to transfer her from the living to the bed when his phone lights up.

He knows who is calling before he checks the caller I.D.

Angel has been texting Ez non-stop.

Angel’s voice comes out low through the receiver. “If I don’t call you back tomorrow it’s because she’s stabbed me in my sleep.”

“You better take the couch tonight then.” Ez brow furrows, wincing as he double-checks the time on his brightly lit screen. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the bathroom.” Angel quickly dismisses his brother’s question. “Listen, it wouldn’t make a difference. Trust me. She hasn’t been talking to me--except for when she ripped me a new one in therapy today--”

“Therapy...hope you tipped the doc.” Ez chuckles. “Having a witness might have saved your life.”

“...she knows about Samuel.”

Ez releases a sigh, his hand running down his face. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“I had to tell her,” Angel mumbles. “It's not like I could tell her about last night. I figured…”

“Give her something else to be mad about?” Ez shakes his head, sparing his brother the laugh. “Angel--”

“I’m working on it.” Angel’s side goes quiet for a moment. His admission is an admission of truth. He has been thinking about it for the last twenty-four hours. “I'm gonna tell her, I just need the right moment...besides, don’t rush me. She’s gonna be mad at you too when she finds out you helped.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I always end up in your shit.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” Angel chuckles. “Remember what I said. If I don’t answer tomorrow--”

“Bye, Angel.”

Hanging up, Ez pushes his phone aside.

He carefully lifts the blanket covering him and Isabela. He successfully carries her down the hallway to the bedroom and has finished tucking her in when she stirs.

She watches as he removes one of the extra pillows from the bed before taking a step towards the door.

“I know it might be extremely difficult for you to stay on your side of the bed,” she yawns, rubbing at her eyes. “But I’m willing to share it with you, as long as you let me take the left.”

A smile spreads across Ez’s face as he watches her pat space next to her. He lifts the pillow in his hand. “Bed’s all yours tonight. I’m gonna take the couch.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he chuckles. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Okay,” Isabela’s eyes are already drifting shut as she yawns. “Well, just know the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Besides, I gotta at least take you out on a date before we start fighting over sides of the bed.”

“Give me the time and place, and I'll be there,” she giggles, her face nuzzling against her pillow. “Just know I’m a tough negotiator.”

Since when has knocking become so difficult?

It is the question you ask yourself as you stand outside the bathroom door. You quickly knock before you can change your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Um--are you decent?”

Your eyes grip shut as you let your own words sink in.

Are you decent?

The bathroom door opens to reveal a freshly showered Angel. He stands on one side of the double sink. His phone is in one hand, a towel in the other. He wears just a pair of briefs, his hair still dripping from the shower.

“What are you doing? You’ve been in here forever.”

“I've been done for a minute,” he responds, his eyes glued to his iPhone. “Didn’t know you were waiting on me.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t go to sleep until I brush my teeth.”

“You could’ve just come in.”

“You were taking a shower.” Your response is automatic.

It is also the same thing that has kept you waiting patiently on the bed for the past thirty minutes.

“You’ve seen me naked before, querida.”

He glances away from his phone to find you still hovering in the doorway. Toothbrush in hand. Your weight shifts as his eyes linger on the black satin sleepshirt you wear. His gaze returns to his phone once he realizes he’s still staring.

“You can enter since apparently, you need the invitation,” he responds, a smile finding his lips. He doesn’t need to see your face to know your eyes are rolling.

Angel may be silent as you start your nighttime skin routine, but he’s panicking inside. Panicking might not be the right word. Paranoia has begun to set in.

From the moment he and Ez made it stateside Friday night, the realization of his actions began to set in. The realization that he has somehow managed to tie himself to Tommy Flores for the second time. The note he'd shoved into his pocket was now in the trash back in Santo Padre. The message, however, was seared in his mind.

Always get insurance.

You were right to ask what Angel has been doing for the last thirty minutes. He’s been searching for information on Tommy. From the moment he started the search, Angel realized this was a terrible mistake.

Now that you’re standing next to him, the cut on his hand seems to throb. He glances down at the bandage. It’s bled through and needs to be removed.

You’re brushing your teeth when you glance up to the mirror before you. You pause, watching Angel's reflection as he studies his right hand. Strangely, it’s the first time you’ve noticed the bandage.

You wait until you’ve rinsed your mouth to face him.

“What happened to your hand?”

Instinctively, Angel moves his hand out of sight. He drops it to his side.

“Nothing,” he responds, suddenly focused on toweling his damp hair.

“It was bleeding?” You reach around him, ignoring his silent protest.

Angel knows there’s no point in fighting you on it. He turns to face you, allowing you to get a better look at his hand. Unwrapping it, you feel him flinch as the cool air hits the open cut. He drops the towel to the floor, resting back against the sink as your brow furrows.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can respond, you’re already out of sight.

Angel stays where he is, waiting patiently for over five minutes. His brow rises when you return, a black bag in your hand. It is one he’s known you to carry for as long as he can remember. He always teases you for carrying the first aid kit, but always seems to need you to use it on him.

A tiny smile finds his lips as he watches you sit the bag on the sink. “You packed this in your suitcase.”

“No,” your eyes roll as you reach forward to cut on the water. “I keep it in the trunk. Let me see your hand.”

Offering it, Angel watches your expressions as you take the time to study the cut. Whatever questions are on your mind, you don’t share them with him. You don’t say anything else. You silently clean and wrap the cut.

“Thanks.”

The kiss he presses against your cheek halts the washing of your hands. He doesn’t linger to leave a second. He picks up his phone before leaving you alone.

When Angel wakes, he finds you quietly moving around the suite. Cell Phone in hand, one shoe in the other.

“You’re leaving me?”

His question causes you to jump.

“Yeah,” You release a sigh as you turn to find him watching you from his makeshift bed. “I was hoping you’d sleep through my getaway.”

Sitting up, Angel glances over as you take a seat alongside him. He silently watches as you slip on your shoe, his eyes passing over your leggings and sports bra.

“Where are you going?”

“Yoga. Figured you wouldn’t want to come. It’s not really your thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s a couples class…”

He doesn’t add anything to his previous statement. Instead, he stands.

“So, you’re coming?” You ask, watching as he pauses to stretch.

“Yeah, it’s just yoga.” He yawns. "Besides, Dr. Mallory said we gotta do things to nurture our souls."

You’re not sure if Angel tagged along to make a point or because he honestly thought it would be easy.

At the moment, you’re concentrating on keeping your breathing controlled and steady. Your eyes are closed, the only blinders you have for the man on the mat alongside yours.

Although you can no longer see him, you know Angel is in the same state as before.

Struggling.

The hushed “shit” he releases, as he wobbles, brings a tiny smile to your lips.

Angel’s eyes shift from the instructor, who is slowly making her way around the room, towards you. He readjusts his posture, trying his best to mirror your stance. But it seems no matter what he does, it doesn’t look like yours.

He wipes at the sweat on his brow. “I thought we were starting with the easy stuff.”

“This is a beginner’s pose,” you note. Your eyes open, a giggle escaping your lips once you take in the look of skepticism on his face.

“You sure?” Angel watches as you effortlessly move into the next pose. He releases a huff, his neck rolling before he tries to follow your lead. “Seems like you signed us up for the advanced class. Just so you could torture me.”

“I didn’t even know you were coming.”

Angel knows your statement is one of pure truth, but that doesn’t stop him from chuckling, “feels like a setup.”

“You know you can always do the modifications,” you nod towards the front of the room. “It’s easier.”

Angel follows your gaze to where an elderly couple is demonstrating the modified version of the pose.

“Easier?” Angel scoffs. “I don’t need easier, I’m doing pretty good--”

He speaks too soon. His weight tips forward, the sight causing your concentration to break. Before he can fall, you catch his left hand pulling him upright.

Angel blinks. His widened eyes move to meet your gaze. A sheepish grin finds his lips as your grip remains tight around his hand.

You eye his less than steady stance. “Are you okay?”

Angel nods. The grin on his face begins to morph. The sight of his smirk causes you to drop his hand.

“Shit, for a second, I thought you were mad enough to let me faceplant.”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll as you redirect your attention back to the instructor. “I just have good reflexes.”

Halfway through the class, Angel gives up trying to follow along. He spends the remainder of class distracting you. When he’s successful in making you smile, he complies with your request “Angel, please focus. You’re going to get us kicked out.”

He settles back into participating. He sticks solely to the modifications. When the class ends, he manages a few steps before collapsing on your mat.

He rests his head on your lap, preventing you from standing. His eyes drift shut as he lets out a deep breath.

“Angel, get up.”

“I can’t,” he sighs. His right-hand rests over his heart, the dramatic change in his breathing causing you to shake your head. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Your eyes roll as he remains where he is. Head resting against your lap, eyes closed, a tiny smile on his lips. It grows into a familiar grin as the warmth of your fingers brushes against his skin.

Your touch lightly brushes through his hair. You watch his eyes open to meet yours.

“I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing,” he chuckles.

“I’m relaxed,” you smile, your touch drifting to his jaw. “You’re not relaxed.”

“Now I am. It’s what you owe me, after that hour of torture.”

“You get an A for trying.”

He smiles falters as he watches you let out a deep breath. The smile on your face is gone, the sight letting him know his plan hasn't worked.

"Can you get up now?" You ask as your eyes follow the couples filing out.

A red 1964 Chevy Impala turns onto Rock Creek Avenue for the second time this Sunday morning. Windows rolled down, music playing low, it comes to a stop alongside the light blue fire hydrant marking the end of the street. Although its idling engine has been cut, the gear shift in park, its driver remains inside.

Dressed in a worn leather jacket, too hot for the already humid morning air, Leo releases the smoke in his lungs. He had committed the address to memory when Tommy had whispered it to him the morning before.

He stops to double-check the home’s number as he returns his cigarette to his lips.

1101 Rock Creek Avenue.

The house itself is nothing special. Apart from the sunflower yellow-painted door, it is nearly identical to the other single-story homes which line the street. A street that is strangely quiet for the hour.

The impala’s dash clock reads 11:35.

Leo leans across the console tugging the latch from the glovebox. Shifting the Ruger, which lays inside, he retrieves the folded newspaper. He pauses long enough to close the glovebox before settling back against his seat.

He stays that way, finishing off his slowly dwindling cigarette, scribbling on the paper in his hand.

The Saturday edition of the Daily Imperial Gazette has a newly noted license plate number written in its top-left corner. The crossword puzzle for the day, ninety percent complete.

Focused on the black and white squares before him, Leo lets out a breath.

An eleven-letter word for satisfaction?

“...vindication…” he mumbles, scribbling the answer into the boxes. His gaze shifts to the watch on his wrist.

12:01.

A shift in his peripheral causes Leo to direct his attention elsewhere.

The sunflower yellow door opens, a woman stepping out. She has a black BB-8 backpack slung over her left shoulder, the eye of the orange and white droid catching a glint of sunlight. Her long dark curls are pulled into a high ponytail. She wears a purple tie-dye sundress and white platform sneakers. She turns back to the door, smiling at the man who steps out after her.

Although Leo has never met Angel, he knows this is not him. The prospect patch stitched across the back of Ez’s kutte, the indicator he needs.

“I can’t wait to see you have some actual fun,” Isabela giggles as Ez stops before her.

Ez’s brow furrows, the corner of his lips turning up slightly, as he meets her playful gaze.

“You make it sound like I’m boring.”

“Uh-uh, don’t put that on me. I did not say boring, you did.” Isabela’s nose scrunches in concentration. Her smile widens as she settles on a more fitting word to describe the man before her. “You’re always so...serious.”

“Serious…” Ez echoes. He watches as Isabela bites her lip, suddenly wondering if her word choice was taken on the offense. As she opens her mouth to add an explanation, Ez shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m just saying, I think I’ve seen you crack a smile maybe once since you’ve been here,” Isabela adds. “You don’t laugh at any of my jokes--”

“Maybe they’re not funny.” Ez glances up from the sunglasses in his hands. He watches Isabela’s hand find her chest, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “Besides, I didn't realize you were trying to impress me.”

For once, in their time together, Ez is able to render Isabela speechless. The smile that brightens his features, causes Isabela’s eyes to roll as she steps around him.

“Wait, can we go back a second? Did Ezekiel Reyes actually crack a joke?”

“I do it from time to time.”

“Well, you should do it more often because you have a cute smile, Zeke,” she teases. “Can’t blame a girl from wanting to see it more often.”

Ez fails at stopping the smile on his lips from morphing into a grin as he slips his sunglasses over his eyes.

Isabela takes a step back inside. “Jeyson Iván Reyes! Let’s go!”

With Isabela no longer before him, Ez’s gaze passes over the street coming to a stop on the red Chevy Impala. Aside from being illegally parked, the car would catch the attention of any passerby. It’s not every day that one sees a vintage car, in pristine condition, riding through the streets of Santo Padre.

He steps forward, giving the car a closer look. But he looks away once he gets the look at the driver’s seat. A man focused solely on flipping through a copy of the Daily Imperial Gazette.

Leo lowers the newspaper slightly. His focus moves past an unsuspecting Ez to the little boy who bolts out the front door.

In his Lakers jersey, Jeyson Reyes is nearly a blur of purple and gold. His laughter drifts down the street as his uncle catches and lifts him into the air.

“Someone’s excited,” Isabela giggles as Ez lowers Jeyson back to his feet.

“I wanna try the bumper cars!” The grin on Jeyson’s face is wide. His entire body radiates with anticipation as he impatiently watches his uncle lock the door. “And the ride that spins you around really really fast so that you’re dizzy—and the mini golf!”

“Yeah?” Isabela’s fingers brush through Jeyson’s curls. Her playful eyes drift to Ez, the smile on her face grows as Jeyson follows her gaze. “I think you and I can beat Ez over here. What do you say, J?”

Ez’s brow arches, his eyes briefly meeting hers before moving to Jeyson’s.

“We can beat him. Easy.” The confidence in Jeyson’s voice is almost enough to break his uncle’s facade.

Ez’s eyes study both pairs of brown eyes focused on him, his head shaking softly.

“I don’t know,” he winces as he steps towards the car. “What are you willing to bet on it, J?”

For a moment, Jeyson is silent. An endless amount of possibilities rush through the eight-year-old’s mind. His round eyes widen as he settles on an answer.

“Funnel cake.”

“Good choice.” Ez squats down before Jeyson. He offers him his hand, pulling it back slightly once Jeyson reaches for it. His gaze lifts to Isabela, his resolve finally cracking, a smile slipping through. “You two can’t back out when I win.”

Folding the newspaper, Leo tosses it into the passenger seat as he watches the truck back out of the driveway. As the truck rolls to a halt, before the stop sign at the end of the street, the engine of the 1964 Chevy Impala rumbles to life.

“When can we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Jeyson groans, the impatient whine in his voice causes his uncle to smile.

“In a minute.” Ez ruffles Jeyson’s hair before reaching into his kutte for his vibrating phone. “We gotta wait for Isabela.”

“Where is she?” Jeyson pouts. Standing on his toes, he releases a huff once he doesn’t see her. “She’s been gone forever!”

In reality, it’s only been five minutes. But five minutes can seem like a lifetime to a kid waiting anxiously to continue his exploration of the carnival.

Two hours in, and Ez has learned that Jeyson doesn’t tire easily.

“I thought you wanted ice cream?” Ez chuckles, glancing over to watch Jeyson shake his head.

“Not anymore,” Jeyson sighs. “I want to go on the Ferris Wheel.”

“We will the second Isabela gets back. Okay?”

Despite the pout on his lips, Jeyson nods as he meets his uncle's gaze.

The text that holds Ez attention is from you. It is a question that has been on your mind for the past few days.

Zeke, need that brain of yours. PLEASE tell me you know of a club with a stallion patch?

Ez’s brow furrows as he reads over the message. He types the first thought that pops into his mind. Followed quickly by the second.

Horsemen.

Don’t know much about them. Prospect...limited information. Gotta ask Angel about that stuff. He was at the table Friday.

He glances up from his phone at the burst of laughter coming from a passing group of teenage girls. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he takes it forward once he realizes that the insistent voice of Jeyson is no longer there.

“Jeyson?” Ez’s brow furrows as his gaze passes over those closest to him.

He has no sight of Jeyson, his stomach dropping as he takes another step forward.

The second time he calls Jeyson’s name his voice is louder, a slight tremble slipping in.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, the carnival is packed. The Ferris Wheel is on the last round of its current cycle. This has ushered in a shift in the crowd. People are rushing to make it to the line, excited for a seat on the upcoming cycle.

“Jeyson?”

The cheers and music drown out Ez’s voice. Between the bodies pressing against him and the breath that seems harder to pass than the previous, Ez can't quite remember the way he’s just turned from.

The tightness in his chest causes him to stumble forward. The thought of finding Jeyson slips away with each painful squeeze of his heart. It becomes painfully loud, drowning out the same cheers and music that had blanketed his voice mere seconds before. He can’t focus. His mind is useless, unable to bridge the disconnect to the rest of his body.

No matter how hard he tries to get air, Ez chokes on each breath he takes. No amount of air that he swallows can be caught by his lungs. He is left breathless, his feet blindly searching for a break in the crowd. His vision is blurred, the images blurring as his focus scrambles.

Through the crowd, he catches sight of a disfigured BB-8 backpack.

“Thank you! Have a great day.” Isabela’s smile widens as she accepts the two ice cream cones from the vendor. She drops the change into the tip jar, carefully sidestepping the couple running past her.

She stops to take a lick of her ice cream, her eyes scanning the crowd. She starts to move forward, in the direction of the designated meet-up point. A tall green pole, that houses a baby blue flag at its top.

Through the break in the crowd, she catches sight of Ez’s kutte. Her steps slow once she realizes he’s bent over, the cones she holds slipping through her fingers.

Ez can’t hear his name on her lips, but he can feel the heat of her shaking hands as they cup his face. Her body shifts with his, as Ez’s back presses against the pole. His lightheadedness dragging his body to the ground.

Despite the trembling of her hands, Isabela’s voice is calm as she lowers herself to her knees before him.

“Ez--hey, look at me. I need you to breathe. Okay?” The softness of her voice lifts Ez’s gaze from his trembling hands. A smile finds her lips, the sight forcing him to take a breath. “Good. Here.”

Taking his left hand in his, Isabela gives it a gentle squeeze before moving to place it over her heart.

“It’s okay, you and I can do it together.” Isabela takes a deep steady breath, Ez’s hand rising and falling with the motion.

It takes a second breath for him to follow suit. The harsh intake of breath comes in slightly smoother than before. His right-hand finds her waist, his eyes drifting shut as he tries to push out another breath.

The grip on her hip is painfully tight, but Isabela remains in place. Resting her forehead against his, she continues to breathe, her fingers gently brush against his cheek. With each passing second, her heart slowly anchors his forcing it to match the steady rhythm beating against his palm.

“Shit--” Ez’s voice comes out hoarse, shaky as he opens his eyes. “I’m sorry--”

His body tips back. Isabela’s weight pressed against him as her arms wrap around his neck. The hug she gives is tight, causing Ez to blink.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I uh--I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Ez.” Isabela shakes her head, pulling back to get a look at Ez’s face.

The look of concern on her face drops Ez’s gaze to his hands. The slight tremble that remains causes him to clench his fist together.

He attempts to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remains. His voice comes out thick, as he shakes his head slightly.

“I haven’t had one of those in years,” he speaks quietly. “The first year in Stockton…”

Isabela nods, not needing him to finish the thought. Instead, she wraps her arms back around him. This time, Ez returns the hug, his face resting against the warmth of her neck briefly.

It’s not until she has him steady and on his feet that Isabela lets out a deep breath.

She looks around when a realization sets in.

“Where’s Jeyson?” The look on Ez’s face causes her to take a step sideways.

As she turns around, she stumbles forward nearly tripping over a grinning Jeyson.

“Oh my god--” Isabela lets out a deep breath, her hand finding her forehead as her eyes drift shut. “Jeyson, where did you go?”

Jeyson’s words come out muffled as he attempts to speak through a mouthful of hot dough.

“We went to get a funnel cake.”

“What?” Isabela’s eyes open.

Jeyson stands with a large plated funnel cake in hand. He wears a grin.

“You can have some,” he offers as Isabela brushes at the powered sugar dusting his cheek.

She blinks. “You don’t ever walk off without me or Ez. You don’t go with strangers, you know that--”

“He wasn’t a stranger.” Jeyson glances up from the piece of funnel cake in his hand. “He was daddy’s friend. He knew my name. He said it was a gift for doing good at my recital.”

His brown eyes widen as he takes in the look of confusion on Isabela’s face.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks. The possibility causes Jeyson’s smile to falter.

“No,” Isabela shakes her head, wrapping him in a hug. “You scared me, that’s all.”

You can learn a lot about a person from their home. Leo discovers all he needs about you the moment he enters yours.

Your son is the center of your universe.

Leo stands in your living room, his eyes passing over the incomplete Millennium Falcon set in the middle of the floor. Overstepping the abandoned legos, he moves closer for a better look at the photos hanging on the wall.

Jeyson is in nearly every photo. Spanning from baby photos, holiday shots, candid moments of fun, to yearbook photos, they allow Jeyson to grow up before Leo’s eyes.

He pauses at the latest hung photo.

Taken in September, it shows Jeyson standing between you and his father. The smile he wears matches Angel’s to the tee. It was taken on the first day of third grade. Jeyson is wearing his Gilman Prep uniform.

Leo lifts his phone, delaying long enough to snap a photo before moving on.

He starts his trek through the house. Sifting through recently delivered mail, abandoned on the kitchen counter. The piano holding the sheet music for Jeyson's recently passed recital. Studying the neatly printed schedule written across the whiteboard on the refrigerator door. The fully stocked bookshelf in Jeyson’s bedroom. The password-protected laptop on the desk of your office. The gun safe in your bedroom closet.

As he returns the closet door to its original position, his eyes pass over the room. They land on the dresser. The wooden, hand-carved jewelry box is smaller than he would anticipate from a woman. The first item to catch his attention is the oval cut diamond of your engagement ring, paired with the matching wedding band. He lifts both, pausing to study them in the sunlight peeking through the bedroom window. Returning them to their original resting place, he lifts the tiny velvet red box nearby. Inside, he finds a pearl necklace.

The necklace itself is simple. A single pearl embellished with a small, round white stone. It is a necklace you rarely take off. It was gifted to you years ago at a high school graduation dinner by Marisol.

Closing the box, Leo pockets it before leaving. The only sign he was ever there is the unlocked front door. It gives Ez a brief moment of a pause upon his return. He’s almost certain he locked it when they left. But with the high-speed rate Jeyson is talking at the moment, he chalks it up to his mind spacing.

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[dreaminae]

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 15

Sure, distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also drives the brain aloof. Or so, that was Liv's take on her current situation. Almost four weeks went by since the big family dinner blowout where Billy and Jordan learned of Liv's drinking. Four weeks since her father's overwhelming disappointment swallowed Olivia whole with a growing fear of being sent away for help once more. Four weeks since her fear led to Liv, running away for help from the one person who she hadn't been in contact with for months -- her sponsor. And four weeks since Liv was giving a large wake-up call when she found her former sponsor behind bars for attempting to steal from her very own parents.

That night Olivia saw what could be her possible future if she didn't receive proper treatment while she still had the chance. Despite her fear of being sent away, she returned home after hours of dodging calls and texts from her loved ones. She walked into her home ready to accept the help, no matter the consequences. And perhaps that why fate played into her hands.

Fore when Olivia returned home, she found both her parents welcomed her with open arms, simply content that she was alright. Following the long night, Liv was surprised to find her family already with a suitable compromise. Instead of shipping her away, Billy and Laura decided upon an intensive program that allowed Liv to remain at home while she recovered.

Later into that evening, Spencer dropped by for what they both knew would be their last moment together for a long term. Acknowledging that they both had things to work on, they agreed to delay their romance until they were both in a good place to be together for real. They weren't breaking up or taking back the feelings they once declared. No, they were -- as Liv put it that night -- 'playing the long game'. Sealing their goodbye with a heartfelt kiss, they parted ways.

Focused on her recovery, Olivia found a new sponsor and confidant in Nurse Joy. Admitting her dependency upon Alcohol, and accepting responsibility for falling off the wagon, Olivia began her road to recovery. Meanwhile, Spencer centered his time on football and plotting his plan to bring Crenshaw a state championship.

Ignoring their constant desire to be together they cut off all physical communication, choosing to stick to the everyday messages to check in on one another. It wasn't until the night of Jordan's second concussion they were able to be in each other's arms.

Utilizing each other as helping shoulder through damaging announcement of Jordan's future in football, they found comfort in their buried affections. Having each other's back when Simone dropped the marriage reveal, Spencer and Liv supported each other when confronted by Billy and Laura.

The secret marriage only adding to Liv's troubled life as Laura grounded her into the next century for her deceit. Life toppled their trivial matter with the death of Tamika, shaking Olivia's inner social justice warrior to its full-frontal.

From leaking footage of Tamika's wrongful death to protesting for the indictment of the guilty officers, Liv found something bigger to be a part of. Her best intentions leading to backfire as Laura took the heat of alleged bigoted D.A. Learning to accept her mistakes, Liv tried to make the best of a complicated issue.

She and Kia's devotion to cause, sparking Spencer to follow suit, persuading his team to take a knee during their most important game. Inspiring by the Crenshaw team their opponents took a knee in protest. As a result of more football teams following Crenshaw's players in taking a knee, Crenshaw was granted another shot at the state championship.

Everything seemed to play into Liv and Spencer's hands, except the main thing they both desired since summer. It was all in a matter of timing, and they both couldn't help but anticipate when that moment would finally arrive.

So when they found themselves planning a surprise party in honor of Spencer's mom earning her college degree, the anticipation rose to a new peak.

"So no gouging out my eyes?" Liv playfully joked, allowing herself to make a joke of the foolish comments people were making about her online.

Spencer scoffed as if insulted. "What, those pretty eyes? You crazy." His eyes drifted from the direction of her eyes to her lips.

Olivia smiled softly as he quickly shifted back to their original conversation, unsure if now was the right time for them to share that type of moment. "You gon' help me fix this came or what?" He questioned with a crooked grin.

"Yes," Liv replied with a cheeky grin as she hopped from her seat, wondering how long he'd wait to make a move.

The next hour and a half flew by with them baking the cake while making basic small talk to catch up with one another. They discussed Liv's daily meeting with nurse joy and how her recovery was coming. Liv caught Spencer up on Jordan's everyday hobbies since his time away from football, while Spencer tried his best not to admit to Liv that he was aiding in Jordan's desire to return to football. Their topics switched until they circled back to Spencer's upcoming game against Westlake, and how Olivia punishment lifted just in time for her to come see him play.

"You'll be my personal cheering section." Spencer goofed as he iced the bare cake.

"Of course. I'll be decked in your jersey number and sporting Crenshaw colors all night." Liv giggled, imaging herself ornamented in Spencer James merchandising. "I'll be shouting the loudest. Go, Spencer! Kick some Westlake ass!" She shouted cheerfully, causing Spencer to chuckle.

"And what about I finish kicking Westlake's ass?" He wondered aloud. "Do I get a prize?" He inquired with a lifted brow.

"You'll have won the state championship for Crenshaw and saved your school. What more could I give you?" Liv snickered, sipping her lemonade.

"I can think of a few things." Spencer flirted causing Liv's cheeks to redden as she swallowed her refreshment.

The knocking of the front door interrupted their flustered juncture. "I'm should...um..you know..."

"Don't worry, I will still be here when you get back." He chuckled towards her rattled nature.

He frosted the cake as Liv dealt with a package delivery on behalf of the coach baker. Shortly after leaving the package in the living room, she rrutrned. Her reserved nature now contained after she took a moment to compose herself.

She returned to the kitchen with more pep in her step resolved with knowing that the moment she and Spencer both delayed was finally arriving, and all she had to do was lead it.

Eyeing Spencer with a twinkle in her eye she cheekily leaned over close to his direction, dipping her finger in the canned frosting. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She inquired sassily, catching his attention as she strutted a few feet around the counter.

"Girl, you know I got skills." He responded cockily, earning a snicker from Liv as she shut the refrigerator to from putting leftover baking ingredients.

"Hey, I was thinking that we should have that graduation won't playing at my mom's party," Spencer suggested, humming his ideal tune aloud.

Olivia listened to the tune with a puzzled expression. "Umm, that's the wedding song."

Spencer eyed her strangely, confused as to how he got the two melodies muddled.

Giving him a sympathetic grin, Liv rubbed his arm, comforting him. "Hmm, you'll get it." She laughed as Spencer twisted his face in slight embarrassment. "It's okay." She added jokingly.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer gestured down to the finished cake. "Well, what do you think?"

Liv analyzed the frosted cake, impressed by how well it came out. "It's good." She complimented with growing suspicion. "Like really good." She added, smirking at Spencer. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Maybe like once for my moms birthday..." He dragged out, sensing that his cover was blown as he smiled crookedly. "And maybe all of Dillion's birthdays." He admitted, redhandedly causing Olivia to laugh.

"Alright, you caught me." Spencer chuckled, then grew serious. "N'all but, I just wanted to get your mind off everything." He confessed wholeheartedly, hating the low amounts of times he witnessed a real smile from Liv over the last few weeks.

"You did," Olivia assured him, touched that Spencer went found the energy to help her through the day's mess, even though she was meant to be helping him today. "You made me feel a lot better." She added, wanting him to know that his intentions were highly effective.

Spencer simply nodded, content to help in any way he could.

Liv smiled thinking back to how their last few hours together reminded her of the summer they spent together. No matter if it dumb shows or extended time at the mall shopping, Spencer remained glue to her hip just to make Liv happy. If he noticed she was having a bad day, he'd make a stupid joke to make her laugh. When she felt alone and needed someone to talk to, Spencer spent hours on the phone with her. When she felt like crumbling, he was always the rock that steadily held her up.

"You've done that before too." Olivia slipped out, letting her affection take over. Her eyes darted to his with a knowing twinkle.

Spencer observed her stature, finding Olivia in control and sure of herself. She beamed gently with a slight tilt of her head as if waiting to see what he would do next. She wanted to know if he still wanted her, and this was her way of conveying her yearning for him. With an assured confirmation that she was ready, Spencer took this as his cue.

Without saying another word he walked towards Liv, ready to give in to their passions. His head tilted in the opposing direction of Liv's as they both leaned in to close the small space between them.

However, right when their lips were about to meet Spencer's phone buzzed. Spencer grunted under his breath, annoyed by the bad timing, but reached for his phone nonetheless. Liv sucked in a tight breath, frustrated by another halted moment.

Remaining with barely an inch separating them, Liv took matters into her own hands. Literally.

"Spence," Liv mumbled, topping the hand that held his phone with the palm of her hand to gain his attention. His phone continued to buzz, as Spencer gave Olivia his awareness. "Yeah."

"It'll still be there afterward." Liv sighed with an unsure smile, gently pulling his phone out of hand. Her finger dragged across the screen, rejecting the call. "But I'm right here. Right now." She remarked, locking eyes with him, lust emitting from her own. "And I don't know about you but I'm tired of waiting." She snickered sassily, earning a smirk from Spencer.

Liv eyes danced from Spencer's brown orbs, falling to his lips, then back to his eyes. Cupping his face, she brought his lips to hers for a kiss that was weeks in the making.

[starlit-serenade]

Deep Breaths

🌦 Summary: When you start to feel overwhelmed with work and life, you fall into a mindset of anxiety. Thankfully, Yeo Hwanwoong is there to help you feel less alone and much more comforted.

🌦 Word Count: 1,224 words

🌦 Pairing: Reader x Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong); Can also be read as no pairing / Characters: GenderNeutral!Reader; Yeo Hwanwoong (Hwanwoong);

🌦 Rated: E / Warnings: Anxiety attack / Genre: GenderNeutral!Reader; Angst; Fluff;

🌦 A/N: I uh. Didn't know if you wanted Y/N and Hwanwoong to be in a relationship or just friends so I uh. Made it unspecified. Can be read either as they’re together or not. I hope that's okay! Anyways, I am now in need of a hug after writing this.

You're sitting up in bed, tapping away at your computer. You have an examination at your work in a few days that you need to prepare for, but just thinking about it makes you nauseated. You don't know if you're going to fail this examination. Your work has been laying off some employees as of late, and this examination will determine whether or not you get to stay. In all honesty, you've been doing pretty well at your job and will probably pass. But your anxiety has been crushing you as of late and you can't even think about the examination without feeling overwhelmingly stressed. You're on the edge of an attack. Especially since it's in addition to everything else chaotic going on in the world and your life.

You're alone at home. You live with Hwanwoong, but he's still at practice. He should be home soon, though, and you two will be able to hang out together.

A notification sounds from your phone on the bedside table, and you yelp at the sound. It's not that it's loud, but it's louder than you'd expected.

You swing your legs off of the bed, stand up and grab your phone to check what it is. An email from your manager, titled 'Moving your Examination'. You feel your chest tighten up and set your phone down to check the email on your computer instead. You're telling yourself it's to see the email and respond to it better on the computer, but you know it's because you're procrastinating reading the stupid email.

You click into your email and click on the email itself. You already feel the feeling of impending doom, like you're being swallowed and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

We hope this communication finds you well.

Your examination was scheduled for the day after tomorrow. However ,we realized there was a mix-up in scheduling the examinations, and have decided to reschedule Your examination for tomorrow.

Please let us know if this is not possible for you. Thank you for your time!

You feel panicked at the sight. A feeling of panic and dread washes over your body. You aren't even remotely ready to do the interview tomorrow. The thought of doing it the day after made you nauseated, but tomorrow? All you can feel is dread. Crushing, overwhelming dread.

You reread the email once, twice. Every time you reread it, you feel yourself drowning more and more in dread. You imagine the examination, hands fumbling or accidentally saying the wrong thing to a customer, and being laid off right there in front of everyone. And you feel the last nudge off of the edge into a sea of 0anxiety.

You realize that you've stopped breathing for the past few seconds. You can't breathe. You feel like you're out of your own body, watching as you choke on nothing, suffocate on air as you grow a bit dizzy. And you feel woozy, like you're about to pass out, and your body feels too heavy for your legs.

You fall on the ground next to your bed, one hand gripping the bedsheets as you inhale over and over again. You feel like you can't breathe, like you're drowning in nothing. You inhale sharply, gasping for air, your whole body shaking. Your head is spinning.

You can't speak at this point, or really move. You feel frozen in place almost, as if you're stuck in quicksand and can only move your limbs slowly. And every time you open your mouth to call out to anyone, nothing comes out.

You slump against the bed, and manage to bring your fist to the wall right next to you. You use all of your strength to bring your trembling hand against the wall once, twice, thrice, before dropping your hand and curling into yourself, burying your head in your knees and sobbing to yourself.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and while you can hear words being spoken at you, you can't understand a single word over the sound of the blood rushing to your ears. You lift your head and look up at the owner of the hand that's gently shaking you, and, through teary eyes, realize it's Hwanwoong.

You blink up at him, confused, but you forget about your confusion when Hwanwoong cups your face in both of his hands gently. For a second, you feel just the little bit comforted.

"Hey, Y/Nie, are you okay baby?" he asks, brow furrowed in concern. You shake your head no, and you're extremely aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks and onto his hands. Oh, what a mess you must be.

"What's wrong, baby?"

You sniff and try hard to catch your breath, but you're hyperventilating too hard that you can barely get a word out. You shake your head at him again, unable to speak and barely able to see him through the tears, and as you once again attempt to speak to him, you start choking and hyperventilating again.

"Shh, take it easy, I can wait," Hwanwoong says, his thumbs brushing gentle circles over the skin of your cheeks in an effort to calm you down. He presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you close, mumbling gentle, calming words to try and help you calm down.

He slowly lifts you up, and you shakingly let him pull you back into the bed with him.

"It's okay, baby, take it slow," he murmurs gently, slowly wrapping his arms around you and rocking you gently. You bury your face in his shirt and sob, the two of you sitting on the floor in each other's embrace as you try to calm down. "You're safe and here. We have all the time in the world, just try to take deep breaths, okay? Take your time."

You nod through tears as you try to catch your breath. Your heart is racing, but the feeling of Hwanwoong holding you, his hands rubbing your back while he mumbles gentle things to you, helps you at least feel that you're back on Earth a little bit.

"It's okay, baby. It'll be okay. Take deep breaths, okay? Deep breaths. You're fine. It'll be fine. Breathe in, two, three, four, five, six. Out, two, three, four, five six. Focus on me baby. In, two, three, four, five, six. Out, two, three, four, five, six."

You follow Hwanwoong's breathing exercises, focusing on his voice and the way he squeezes your hand until your breathing has settled, and Hwanwoong pulls away to cup your face.

"Hey, baby, how are you feeling?" Hwanwoong asks after a long moment of silence, his voice soft and gentle.

You sniff. "Horrible. Absolutely horrible. And tired. Sleepy. Sorry you had to see me like this. I'm a bit of a mess right now." You can feel tears staining your cheeks and your nose dripping from all of the crying.

"No no, I don't mind," Hwanwoong says, shaking his head. "I care about you and I want to be here with you, whether it's at your best or at your worst, Y/Nie."

You smile a bit, curling into his warmth. "Thank you, Woong-ah."

"Always, Y/Nie." He squeezes your hand, listening to your soft breathing until he's sure you've fallen asleep.

[deliverydefresas]

another aeroplane, another sunny place

AKA, the final bonus part of shape of you that wasn't posted here, but on wp. very much inspired by michael bublé's song 'home' back in 2017 that i finally finished writing a while ago. technically it can be read as a standalone os since that's how it was originally written as, but it also makes sense in the sofy universe. (just like another os i will post sometime next week that i *also* posted on wp but not on here)

ANYWAYS feel free to ignore if you've read it already, since i'm mostly just posting it here in case i need to reference it later!

may be surrounded by a million people i still feel alone, i just wanna go home

oh, i miss you, you know

He'd been on the road for eight months now.

He was grateful of all the success the Rollerband was getting; a worldwide sold-out tour, thousands of records sold, a renewed signing contract for another three years. He knew he was lucky, and he couldn't deny it.

Career-wise, he was happy, living his rock-star dream. His personal life was a whole different thing.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. And it was true, honestly. If he thought he loved his girlfriend before, he knew for sure now that he was ten thousand kilometers away. However, what they don't tell you, it's how hard it can get when such a distance is formed. He hadn't talked to Ámbar, like really talked, in two months.

Their relationship had gotten to an only-texting communication, with hello's and goodnight's texts received every day. The phone calls had reduced to once a week, if that.

It hadn't started that way, though. The first three months consisted of daily three-hours-long video calls, with the occasional visit if uni and her schedule allowed her, then they passed to a one-hour daily cellphone call... now they were lucky they even remembered to put 'i love you' at the end of their texts.

He didn't like it, not one bit. He knew where they were leading; he'd seen it first with Jim and Nico years ago (which was a reason he tried not to date anyone seriously), and then a few months later with Delfi and Pedro. Simón didn't want that for Ámbar and himself.

He checked the time; almost midnight where he was, so it'd only be around 7 PM in Buenos Aires. Her uni classes ended at three, so either she was at the J&R or doing homework.

Deciding he didn't have anything to lose, he pressed 'call' on his phone. Five rings later, she picked up, her beaming face appearing on his screen. Gosh, how he'd missed her.

"Aló, Simón?!" Her voice sounded a little breathy, but overall excited. He had to smile when he heard her. "How are you? I miss you," she sighed wistfully on the other side of the line. The hand she wasn't using to hold the phone went to her hair, twirling a lock away from her face.

"I miss you too," Simón answered, a small smile gracing his lips, "I'm coming home soon, only a couple of weeks more, little gem."

"It feels like too long, but at least it's sooner than eight months," she mumbled, sighing again, "how's Spain? Didn't you have a show tonight?"

"Spain's great, full of life," he remembered the crowd, screaming and singing along, "the show ended an hour ago. I'm feeling a little homesick, I guess," he admitted, "I wish I was there with you."

"Don't," she reprimanded him, shaking her head a little, "you'll be here soon, enjoy tour life while you can."

"That's the thing... I'm not enjoying it anymore." Ámbar went still at this. If it weren't for the tenue sound of music she was listening on her side and that he could hear through the phone, he'd have thought it's freezed on him; when he realized that wasn't the case, he continued. "It's been too long. I miss our bed, I miss waking up next to you, hugging you, kissing you... I miss our dog and I miss our friends. This life... it feels so empty, little gem." He wasn't ashamed to say he was close to tears. He loved touring, giving concerts in different parts of the world, meeting fans all over the globe... those were heavy pros. Simón just wished he'd have more time for his family.

"Don't think like that, Simón, please." She begged him, the little tremble in her voice gave away her emotions, her face had barely moved. Simón knew it was more for his sake than for hers. "I miss you too, so much it hurts sometimes. But this is your dream, love, this is what you've worked so hard for; don't let homesickness stop you from finding joy in what you love the most."

"I'll try, I promise I will. I just... I don't know..."

"I get it, I'm the same sometimes. But you must understand; we're not them, Simón." Her voice turned softer, understanding, and soothing. He loved that about her, that she seemed to know what to say and how to say it without a prompt given. "Do you know why they didn't work out? It's not because they loved each other less, or because the distance was too much. It was the pressure of feeling that if they weren't near each other, if they didn't talk to the other 24/7, their bond would break. It was too much, and it ended up leaving them strained."

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to talk to me anymore?" he joked, his smile growing as she rolled her eyes.

"You're an idiot." She deadpanned, changing her position on the bed to recline her back on their bedrest. "Seriously, though, do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yes, love. I know I shouldn't care too much about how much we talk as it does not define our relationship but what can I say? I miss you." She grinned at him.

"I miss you, too. I'm always a call away," she promised him, but then she frowned, "unless I'm at class, then sorry, you'll have to talk to my voicemail."

He laughed, "I see how it is, a boring class is way more important than funny me. How's everything over there? How's my princess?"

"Always." She winked at him. "Everything's fine. I had lunch with my mom today, she made mushroom lasagna, I told her already that mushrooms taste like nothing, but she swears they're flavorful; I might go visit my dad tomorrow as well; he's been bugging me about having dinner with him and his family," he absentmindedly scrunched his nose at the mention of the fungi, he hated them, "Toppy is here, I can put you on speaker so you can talk to her, if you want. I can't promise she'll answer, though, she's been giving me an attitude lately."

"An attitude? You're rubbing on her, aren't you? When I get home, I'll come back to two Ámbar's instead of one." He teased her, earning a huff from his girl. "Let me talk to her, I bet she doesn't even recognize my voice anymore."

"You've always been her favorite, she will." She replied softly, and then it was quiet for a couple of seconds, while she took off the earphones' plug from her phone. "Okay, you're on speaker now. Toppy, babe, come greet daddy." Simón waited until he heard a 'thud' – followed by Ámbar adjusting her phone's camera so he could see both his girl and their pet- to speak again.

"Toppy?" Not a sound.

Before he could get sad he got no response, Ámbar spoke. "She's smelling my phone, talk again." She sounded amused, so Simón complied, cheerier this time.

"How's my favorite puppet doing? I heard you're giving mommy a bit of trouble. What happened to my good girl?" He wasn't done with his first question when the barking started, his pup's little whines sounded almost as if she was reprimanding his absence.

"She's missed you." His girlfriend exclaimed over the barking, chuckling at the way Toppy's tail swat rapidly.

"I miss her too." He sighed again, "I miss you both a lot."

"Just a few more weeks." She reminded him, her smile and tone wistful as she tried to contain the pup's wriggling body. He had to smile at that.

"Just a few more weeks." He echoed, the underlying promise loud to their ears. "I love you."

"I love you too." She paused for a second, before speaking again, "now please go to sleep, you look like you died a week ago." Simón laughed at that, but he knew better than to fight her when she was trying to take care of him.

"I'll call you tomorrow, alright?"

His words were met with a grin. "Not if I text you first. I love you so much, Simón."

"I love you more, little gem. Take care, okay? I'll see you as soon as I can." She sent him a kiss through the phone, before disconnecting the call. He stared at the screen for a couple of minutes, before the 'low battery' notification popped up and he had to charge it. The call left him feeling much better, so he decided to go to bed already.

Just a few more weeks ran like a mantra trough his mind, soothing his fears and anxiety. Just a few more weeks and I'll be home.