#conversations • comfortable silence is so overrated.

[mcteofuentes]

Wow, looking at everyone here makes me feel severely under-dressed. It was a struggle to find anything that had some sparkle in it, but I think we managed pretty well. How's your night so far? Are you missing the kid or are you glad that you've had one night away? @cagenewman

[mcteofuentes]

Goes to show that when you take a few moments of your day to help clean up a little bit, it can make a whole difference! I know that I haven't seen much trash since. Well, before the whole bear situation at the campsites this past week. That was bad, but at least no one really got hurt, yeah? Just hope the bears don't get in trouble for eating any human food. I know some need to be put down if they find anything that is from humans. But both weeks were fun. What was your favorite of Nature Week? I kind of liked going to Lavender Lane with my daughter. She loved the butterflies.

Yeah, I hear you! I took a walk out by the docks the other day during my break at the gallery, and I don't remember them ever really looking that clean, you know? No garbage laying all over, nothing floating in the water, it was really nice. I hope we can keep it up for a while. I did some beach combing that I was pretty proud of, to be honest -- lots of garbage that people must have left behind last summer that kinda got buried. How 'bout you?

[xhoess]

pls can you write an happy ending angst with nicholas chavez where reader and him discuss mariage and having children in general and reader shuts down the subjects saying mariage is overrated and meaningless and she hates children and doesn’t want any. so they starts debating/ fighting and he’s flabbergasted bc they don’t have at all the same vision of life and during few days it’s very cold/tensed between them especially him bc he told her that he wanted her to be the mother of their children. but at the end she ends up telling him why she is afraid to have PPD since she had a long depression and there more risks to have post partum depression if you had been depressed, to become a bad mom like her narcissistic mom …

(Yes omg I immediately started when I saw this🥲🥲)

"Facing Fears, Finding Love"

Nicholas chavez x fem reader

Summary: When Nicholas Chavez shares his dreams of marriage and children, you shut him down, leading to a tense argument. Days of distance follow until you confess your fears of postpartum depression and becoming a bad mother due to your past struggles. Nicholas, understanding and supportive, reassures you with unconditional love. Together, you begin to rebuild trust, facing the future with renewed hope and mutual understanding.

Words: 7.6 K

The air was thick with tension, the comfortable silence that had enveloped your cozy living room now feeling stifling. The soft glow of the table lamp cast gentle shadows over Nicholas's features, but the warmth was rapidly giving way to something far colder. He sat perched on the edge of the couch, a half-empty cup of tea cradled between his hands. His gaze had shifted from the window to you, and you sensed that something in him had changed since your blunt words had cut through the evening.

His enthusiasm had been infectious just moments earlier as he excitedly shared his visions of a future filled with laughter and children. You could remember the way his eyes sparkled, how his voice had held such a soothing cadence as he painted dreamlike scenarios of family vacations, birthday parties, and the cozy chaos of everyday life. The dreams that had built up effortlessly in his imagination had felt almost tangible, revived by the warmth of your shared space.

But then you shattered that moment. You could still hear the harshness of your own voice as you declared, "Marriage is overrated and meaningless," and then coolly added, "I hate kids. I don’t want any." The sting of your words hung between you, suspended like a bitter fog that neither of you knew how to dissipate.

Nicholas's expression shifted from one of hope to confusion, and finally to pain. His brows knitted together, as if trying to piece together the fragments of the conversation, and you saw the light in his eyes dim. "Why didn’t you say something before?" he asked, his voice a tight whisper, the tremor in it revealing the depth of his shock.

You opened your mouth, intending to reply, but the words caught in your throat. "I... I didn’t think it mattered," you stuttered, the pit in your stomach tightening as you tried to pick apart your jumbled thoughts.

Nicholas shook his head, his deep-set eyes searching yours for an answer you were not ready to give. "It does matter! You make it sound like all my dreams are foolish. I always thought you’d be the mother of my children!" He stood up abruptly, his movement punctuating the tension that crackled in the room. The chair he had been perched on scraped against the floor, a sound sharp enough to increase your heartbeat.

"I didn’t realize you had those dreams," you argued, defensiveness creeping into your voice. "Why would you assume that I would fill that role? Just because we’re together doesn't mean we want the same future."

Nicholas's face crumpled at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he would crumble under the weight of your lack of understanding. "Because I thought we were building a life together," he shot back, the hurt evident in his tone. "I can’t believe you never mentioned this before. I always shared my dreams with you, and I believed you were sharing yours too. Was it all a lie?"

Your heart raced, and the sense of being cornered filled you with an urge to flee. "It’s not a lie!" you exclaimed, desperate to have him understand. "I just... I never thought you meant it so seriously. You know how I feel about kids, and you always seemed so... sure."

"But those were my hopes!" Nicholas’s voice rose, filled with bewildered frustration. "And you made me feel like I was the only one on this path. I thought we were on the same page—working toward a future together. Now I find out you’ve been harboring these feelings in secret!"

"Do you think I want this?" you replied, anger rising from a place you hadn’t known existed. "Do you think it’s easy for me to admit this? I didn’t want to disappoint you!" The words were out before you could snatch them back, biting into the already frayed fabric of the evening.

Nicholas paused, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, the realization washing over him as he processed your admission. "You must’ve known I would want to know," he said quietly, the hurt lying heavy in each syllable.

“I thought it could work,” you said, your voice betraying the edge of desperation. “I thought I could learn to want those things. But I can’t. I don’t want them.” The finality in your voice echoed around the room, but the truth collided with the storm brewing within you—a twisted mix of anger, sadness, and guilt.

Nicholas took a deep breath, visibly deflating. "I don’t want to pressure you into something you don’t want," he said, the warmth of his usual tone replaced by resigned coldness. "But I thought we were building a life together. I thought you were on board with this."

A painful silence descended, so thick you could nearly touch it. The more you tried to dismiss your internal storm, the louder it grew, shrieking that you could lose him, that this could be the turning point of everything you shared.

Nicholas stepped back then, retreating from your presence as if he needed physical space away from the wall he felt was being built between you. "I just... I need some air," he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. And with that, he walked away, leaving the conversation unresolved, like an unfinished melody that echoed in the empty silence.

You stood there, rooted to the spot, a ghost of guilt weaving its strands through your being. You wanted to go after him, to take back your words, but instead, you remained motionless, staring into the distance, the shadow of what had just transpired pressing down on you like an anchor.

The weight of your convictions pressed heavily against your chest, but so too did the fear of what might happen next. Would he really walk away? Would this moment linger? You felt trapped between the walls of your own design, and you couldn't decide which was more terrifying: the thought of losing Nicholas or the dread of confronting the real emotions behind your aversion to his dreams.

Breathing low and shaky, you sank onto the edge of the couch, the faint sound of Nicholas’s footsteps fading into the night. You were left alone, surrounded by silence, filled with a torrent of unresolved emotions swirling deeper in the recesses of your heart.

You spent the next few days drifting through your routine like a ghost. Each morning greeted you with the same tightness in your chest, a constant reminder of the cavernous rift that had opened between you and Nicholas. You felt it as you brewed your coffee, the familiar sound of the kettle boiling echoing in your small kitchen, yet it felt so foreign without Nicholas’s laughter or his gentle teasing about your obsessive coffee-making rituals. The silence was heavy, suffocating.

Nicholas had retreated into himself, a stark shift from the exuberant man who had spent countless evenings talking about dreams and plans. Now, sitting on the couch, you watched him scroll through his phone whenever he was nearby, his eyes dull, the corners of his mouth pressed into a thin line. He seemed a million miles away, lost in thoughts you couldn't penetrate. Each glance in his direction felt like a glimpse into an impenetrable fortress—one that had been built overnight after that fateful evening.

As you prepared your meals, the routine felt strangely haunting. You would plate two servings, only to find yourself taking the food to the table in silence. The atmosphere was heavy with unspokenness, punctuated only by the clattering of utensils. Nicholas would sit opposite you, often looking down at his food, as if it was the most fascinating spectacle in the world. After a few awkward bites, he would excuse himself, muttering something about an early start the following day. You would watch him go, the door swinging shut like the final nail in the coffin of your conversation.

In the evenings, you found yourself gravitating toward the living room window, staring out at the street below, watching people pass by with their laughter and carefree chatter. Your heart ached as you thought of how easy it had once been for you and Nicholas to share such moments, laughing and dreaming about the future. Now, memories felt like daggers, cutting deeper with each recollection of his face lighting up while talking about a family.

You tried to reach out, to bridge the distance, but every time you opened your mouth to speak, words got stuck in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many unexpressed fears that loomed over you like dark clouds. You didn’t want to unpack them in front of Nicholas, especially after how he had looked at you in shock. Instead, you chose solitary evenings, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book, pretending to be engrossed in stories that danced around you but never quite touched your heart.

Occasionally, you’d catch Nicholas’s eye, and in those brief moments, your heart would flutter with hope. Maybe he’d reach out, maybe he’d say something… But each time, he just looked away, as if he were afraid to delve into that abyss of unexpressed thoughts. It reminded you of the time a friend had brought an injured bird to your doorstep. You both stared at it, sympathizing with its struggle, but when it came to the actual act of helping, you froze. Both of you had chosen to leave it alone, believing it was better that way.

One evening, as golden twilight faded into cool dusk, things grew unbearable. The silence felt like a living entity, twisting around you both like vines, choking the air. You found yourself standing by the window, tracing patterns on the glass with your fingers, when Nicholas’s voice cut through the stillness, soft but laden with weight.

“Are you just going to keep shutting me out?” he asked, his tone edged with pain.

You turned slowly, locking eyes with him. There was a vulnerability there that made your heart ache. Memories surged, unbidden—moments of joy, laughter, and warmth—and it shattered something inside you. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words cowered, retreating back into the shadows of your mind.

Nicholas stepped closer, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans as if they were the only anchor he had left. “We can’t keep doing this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t look at me the way you used to. I feel like I’m losing you.”

His admission cut deeply, the truth of his words reverberating within you. You wanted to scream that you were still there, still the person who loved him fiercely, but the fear of unveiling your struggles kept your tongue tied. Instead, you bit your lip, the taste of dread pooling in your stomach.

“I’m...fine,” you said, the lie tasting bitter on your lips as you looked away.

“Fine? You think this is fine? You closed yourself off after that night, and I am left here, feeling like some kind of stranger. I just want to understand,” he urged, his voice thickening with emotion.

His frustration hung thick in the air, and you felt an overwhelming urge to run, to hide away from the truth that loomed behind your eyes—the fear, the apprehension—a tangled web of hurt that you were still unraveling.

“Just leave me alone,” you finally managed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. It was a defense mechanism, your voice detached and flat, concealing the tempest inside.

Nicholas’s face fell, eyes wide with hurt. “Why are you pushing me away?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I can’t make sense of any of this! I thought we were in this together!”

His words stung, and you stood there, feeling the distance grow wider, casting long shadows in the light of the fading day. “You wouldn’t understand,” you whispered, the admission barely escaping your lips.

With that, he turned and walked away, the weight of his footsteps reverberating through the quiet of the house. You could hear the sound of the door shutting behind him, blunt and final, and you were left standing alone in that echoing silence, the guilt rising inside you like a relentless tide.

As the minutes turned to hours, you sat on the edge of the couch, your head spinning with confusion. You were filled with guilt for not sharing your fears, yet terrified of how he would react if you did. As darkness enveloped the room, so did the realization that the love you cherished felt like it was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

In the emptiness, you found yourself wavering in that fragile silence, torn between the love you had for Nicholas and the walls you had built to shield yourself from the storm raging within. As night deepened, and shadows crept along the walls, you sat encased in loneliness, wondering if the silence between you could ever be broken.

You had counted the hours, but when you were finally able to measure the silence in days, it felt like a weight pressing against your chest. The quiet hung in your apartment like an uncomfortable guest who had overstayed their welcome. The remnants of heated words still echoed in your mind, taunting you as you passed through rooms once filled with laughter and conversation. You thought about reaching out to Nicholas, but each time you opened your mouth to speak, words crumbled in your throat, frail and weak.

The living room, once a sanctuary of warmth, had become a battleground adorned with remnants of the life you shared—the cozy blanket on the couch, the coffee mug still resting on the side table from a time before the argument erupted. Now, even the soft tremble of the air felt altered—thick, stifling. Nicholas had barely spoken since that fateful night, his eyes betraying a hurt that cut deeper with each glance as he withdrew further into himself.

You were busy preparing dinner—an unremarkable pasta dish—when you heard the sound of keys jiggling in the lock. Nicholas entered the house, and the mere act of him crossing the threshold somehow intensified the suffocating silence. You turned your back to him, focusing on the bubbling pot as if it could distract you from the gravity of the moment.

“Hey,” Nicholas said softly, his voice barely rising above the sound of water boiling, but you felt the tremor in it as if the ground beneath you was shifting. You willed your heart to slow, taking a deep breath, bracing yourself for the waves of anxiety that threatened to pull you under.

“Hey,” you managed to murmur without turning around. There was a heaviness in the air between you, a chasm of unspoken words stretching wide. You sensed him lingering in the doorway, unsure of how to breach the wall that had crashed down between you.

After an interminable moment, he finally stepped forward. “I can’t keep doing this,” he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “I can’t stand this silence.” His words wrapped around you, both a lifeline and a knife. “You feel so far away. Why have you shut me out?”

His vulnerability struck you. The warmth of his breath brushed against your neck, and despite the tension, a part of you longed to lean into him, to bridge that unbearable distance. But fear held you back, chaining you in place. You turned to face him, and the sight of his pained expression tugged at something deep inside.

“I don't know where to start,” you finally confessed, your voice wavering. “It’s just...everything has changed so quickly.”

Nicholas stepped closer, his eyes glimmering with concern. “You’re not making sense. I don’t understand what’s going on in your head, but it hurts to feel like you don’t want to share that with me.”

His words cut deeper than any shattering argument. You felt exposed and raw, and yet, in his gaze, you saw the remnants of the love you once felt so confident about. “You want to build a life together, Nicholas,” you said, trying to keep your tone even, but the tremor was there no matter how hard you fought against it. “You want a family, and I...I don’t want that. Not now, not ever.”

“What do you mean?” he questioned, his voice deepening with disbelief. “You never told me this. I always thought—” The weight of his words hung heavy, full of memories and dreams you once shared. He paused, swallowing hard as he looked away, as if seeking some kind of answer in the shadows of the room.

“You always thought I’d be the mother of your children,” you echoed, the bitterness you felt welling at the back of your throat. “So did I. But things don’t always turn out the way we plan, do they?”

His expression twisted with a mixture of hurt and confusion. “Why do you feel the need to shut me out? This isn't just about you. This is about us. Don’t you see how much you’ve changed and how much I care?”

“I just can’t think about that now!” you exclaimed, feeling the bubbling turmoil spilling over. “Life is messy. It's scary, Nicholas! I’m terrified, and I don’t want to repeat the mistakes that were made with me. I don’t even want—”

“Then what do you want?” he pressed, his frustration mounting, but his eyes softened, a glimmer of fear sparking behind them. “Tell me what you want. Do you want to be with me? Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t...” You hesitated, the internal battle raging loudly in your mind. You wanted to collapse into his arms and cry until there was nothing left, but each time you attempted to find the words, your throat constricted, as if afraid of the truth spilling out. The thought of his disappointment crushed you further, and the rawness of your own feelings cut deeply.

With a defeated breath, he whispered, “You know how much I love you, right? You’re my everything. I just always thought… I thought we were on the same path.” He looked down, and you could see the shadows of his dreams fading behind the weight of your words.

Panic clawed at your chest. You’d never intended to destroy the future he envisioned, but here you were, standing among jagged edges and broken pieces of trust.

“I thought you’d be the one to help me build a family,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. You saw the hurt in his expression, and somewhere in that pain, you felt the truth of your own: you were losing him.

With that realization clawing at your heart, he turned away, moving toward the door again, each step reverberating with a heavy finality. “I need some air,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t do this right now.”

In that moment, as you watched him walk away, the silence between you felt unbearable. You fell back against the cold counter, wrapped in a cocoon of guilt—but your mind spun in chaos, unable to clarify the thoughts clamoring for attention. You were afraid of losing him, yet still lost in your own shadows.

And between you and Nicholas, the door closed, sealing away all the words that now felt too heavy to utter.

The air in the room was heavy, thick with anticipation and unsaid words. You stood at the window, staring out at the dimming sky, the fragments of dusk spilling hues of orange and purple across the horizon. Each fleeting moment echoed your racing heartbeat, the silent battle raging within. Nicholas sat across the room, observing you with an intensity that made your heart clench. How had things escalated so quickly? One moment, you were weaving dreams of a future together, and the next, you'd shattered all that with a single sentence.

"Marriage is overrated and meaningless," you had said, and in return, you'd seen the light dim in Nicholas's eyes, the shock and hurt etched across his features like an unwelcome painting. Now, silence loomed around you, oppressive and thick, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

You turned away from the window, taking a step towards him, your feet heavy with uncertainty. Nicholas's expression remained guarded, a portrait of hurt and confusion, as if he were still trying to shield himself from the blow you'd dealt. But you couldn’t maintain the façade of indifference any longer. The truth clawed at your insides, begging for release.

"Nicholas," you began, your voice trembling. "I—"

He lifted his hand to silence you gently. “Please, just let me speak.”

So you fell silent again, heart racing as you waited for him to find the right words. He took a deep breath, and you could see the struggle behind his calm exterior.

“You shut me out, and I—” he hesitated, a shudder of emotion flitting across his face. “I thought you were my partner, but suddenly, I feel like I don’t even know you.”

You felt a swift pang of guilt. How could you expect him to understand? The words you wanted to speak slid around inside your mind like fish in a bucket, eluding you—but the truth was surfacing, rising, clawing its way out as you felt the weight of these hidden fears.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was quieter now, softened by the weight of his pain. “I thought we were on the same page. I pictured us having a family together, sharing our lives… You never mentioned this.”

“I was afraid,” you confessed, the small admission at the tip of your tongue suddenly relieving. “Afraid of what you’d think of me.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything. I’m here, I love you,” he said, his voice almost pleading, and in his eyes, you saw the glimmer of hope, the raw sincerity of someone who was struggling to piece this puzzle together.

“I don’t want to be a failure,” you said, the words tumbling from your lips before you could catch them. You could see Nicholas’s confusion deepen, but you pressed onward, feeling the dam within you begin to crack. “I grew up watching my mother, who was supposed to be my protector, but she was… twisted. Emotional scars… they don’t heal easily, and I’m terrified of becoming her.”

Nicholas remained silent, his eyes widening with concern. The deeper you delved, the closer you felt to that dark recess of your past—unprocessed memories of chaos and confusion. “You know I struggled with depression,” you admitted, your throat tightening, “and I’ve read how that increases the risk of postpartum depression. It’s terrifying.”

As his expression shifted from confusion to understanding, you felt an odd sense of relief. “I don’t want to bring kids into this world and hurt them the way she hurt me. What if I can’t control it? What if I can’t be what they need?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you felt vulnerable, yet somehow lighter. Nicholas remained quiet, absorbing the weight of your fears, filtering through the chaos you shared.

“Please, say something.” You could hardly bear the silence. The truth of your feelings had surfaced, and now, you needed him to meet you there.

“That makes sense,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wish I’d known sooner. But I’m here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I love you for you, and I want what makes you happy. We can face this together.”

His words reached out to you, digging around the rawness you felt and slowly stitching it back together. The flutter of panic that had threatened to consume you began to ease, though the scars remained, raw but acknowledged.

“I want you to know that you're not destined to repeat any cycle,” he said softly, closing the space between you, his hands reaching for yours. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone in this.”

Tears streamed quietly down your face as you felt an unexpected warmth envelop you. The release of your fears had opened a door, one you’d thought was locked forever. You took a shaky breath, touched by his understanding, and nodded in silent appreciation.

“You’ll be an amazing mother if that’s what you choose, and I know that,” he continued, voice steady, “but I want you to choose it for the right reasons—not because of fear dictating your decisions.”

His touch felt like home, and you leaned into him, finally free to be vulnerable, shedding the layers you had clutched onto for so long. You didn’t realize how much you craved this connection until it enveloped you.

“What a relief,” you murmured against his shoulder, and you felt him relax against you.

As the two of you stood there, bound by shared secrets and the promises of understanding, it became clear that while the future may still remain uncertain, you had taken the first brave step in facing it together. Yet, deep down, you knew the path was still long, unfurling ahead of you like the dimming light of the outside world.

But for now, you were not alone. The chapter was still unwritten, but a flicker of hope danced softly in the shadows.

You sit across from Nicholas, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of your confession still hovering in the air like a thick fog. Tears glimmer in your eyes, but the raw honesty you’ve just shared brings to life an entirely different kind of fear—fear of his reaction. The silence between you feels heavy, as if the world has paused, awaiting his response. You can barely breathe, the anticipation hanging like an unspoken promise.

Nicholas shifts in his seat, his expression unchanging for a moment that feels like an eternity. He looks deeply into your eyes, searching not just for what you’ve voiced, but for all the fears and insecurities that still linger unspoken. His brow furrows as his mind processes the layers of your confession, the vulnerability laid bare between you.

Finally, he exhales softly, the breath escaping him like a gentle wave retreating back into the ocean. “I…I had no idea,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry you felt you had to carry this alone.” His tone is tender, and you can sense the sincerity woven through his words.

You blink, trying to hold back more tears. The empathy in his voice warms your heart, yet guilt creeps in, gnawing at you for the burdens you've placed on him without sharing. You have kept this hidden for so long, convinced that being strong meant being silent. In his gaze, you see not just the hurt, but an earnest desire to understand.

“I wish you had told me sooner,” Nicholas continues, his expression softening as he brushes a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to recognize. “But I understand why it was difficult for you.” There’s a longing in his voice, an ache for connection, and you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope.

“I was scared you would leave,” you admit, the words spilling out. “I thought if I could just pretend, maybe it wouldn't become a problem.” You feel exposed, both terrified and relieved as you unearth the truth. “I didn’t want to disappoint you… or lose you.”

Nicholas reaches across the table, his hand finding yours, warm and grounding. He squeezes gently, breaking through the walls of tension that once surrounded you both. “You could never disappoint me. I love you too much for that,” he assures you, his voice calm and steady, a lighthouse guiding you through the stormy sea. “This is a journey we can take together, however long it needs to be.”

His words ebb the tide of your fears, and you watch as a soft resolve spreads across his features. “You’re not alone, and you don’t have to go through this by yourself,” he continues, his grip tightening reassuringly. “We’ll figure this out, step by step, together.”

Your heart swells, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over you, but doubt still lingers like a shadow at the back of your mind. “But what if I can’t overcome this?” you ask, your voice trembling as uncertainty floods in once more. “What if…I’m really not meant to be a mother?”

Nicholas’s gaze intensifies, a fierce protection enveloping his eyes. “That’s not true,” he says firmly. “You’re not your mother. You’re stronger than that, and I know you can break the cycle.” His voice is a balm, soothing the wounds you've carried for so long. “We can learn. We can seek help if you need it. You could even talk to a therapist with me… whatever you need.”

His willingness to tread into those uncharted waters with you ignites a spark of hope, yet your heart weighs heavy as a sense of fragility looms between you. “You really mean that?” you ask, your voice a whisper, almost fearfully fragile.

“Absolutely,” he nods, his tone reassuringly steady. “The love I have for you isn’t conditional on motherhood or marriage. It's about us, our connection, our partnership. And I’m not going anywhere.” He looks deep into your eyes, his resolve unwavering. “We’ll face whatever comes, together.”

The intensity of his promise warms your chest, pouring light into the dark corners of your fear. Nicholas’s breath mingles with yours as the distance that once felt insurmountable begins to fade with every reassuring word. You feel something shift in your heart, like the first thaw of spring after a long winter.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you lean in closer, until your foreheads almost touch. The warmth of his presence envelopes you, easing the tension that has knotted your heart for days. You take in the tangible sense of togetherness, feeling more at ease than you’ve felt in a long time.

But as you search his eyes, uncertainty lingers still—a flicker of concern reflecting back at you. “You know, even if we decide to have kids one day, it will take time for me to be ready—if I ever truly am. I don’t want you to wait for something that may never happen,” you confess, your heart aching with vulnerability.

Nicholas pauses for a moment, the weight of your words settling between you like a soft blanket. “I’d rather wait for you than rush into a decision that doesn’t feel right,” he responds, his voice filled with patience and understanding. The kindness in his eyes tells you that he truly means it, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you begin to believe that maybe you could share this journey of self-discovery together.

As the two of you sit in silence, the noise of the outside world fades into the background. In that stillness, you realize that the road ahead may not be easy, but holding onto each other through it offers a kind of comfort you’ve never truly experienced before. Nicholas’s presence feels like home, and with that thought, you draw a breath deep into your lungs.

The chapter ends with Nicholas pulling you into a comforting embrace. Lost in his warmth, the realization washes over you: although fear still lingers, it no longer feels insurmountable. Together, you can navigate the unknown, one step at a time.

The air felt different between you and Nicholas in the days following your heartfelt confession. The emotional storm that had raged in your hearts for what felt like an eternity was finally beginning to calm, but the residue of tension lingered like a faint, stubborn smell—too subtle to pinpoint, yet always there. You could almost see the invisible threads tethering you two together, slowly being rewoven, one earnest conversation at a time.

Nicholas had become a constant presence beside you, both a pillar of support and a gentle nudge urging you to confront your fears. The warmth of his hand on your shoulder, the soft, understanding glances he tossed your way when you faltered, made you feel safer. The distance had shrunk, but trust was a fragile thing, one that required careful nurturing.

It started on a Monday evening. The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue through the small kitchen window and wrapping you both in a soft glow. You were in the midst of organizing the clutter on the counter—a resurrected pile of bills and unwritten grocery lists that had become a silent witness to your distraction over the past few weeks. Nicholas stood nearby, stirring a pot of simple pasta, the unmistakable aroma of simmering garlic wafting through the air.

“Hey,” he called softly, breaking the silence that had become comfortable in its own right. “What do you think about planning a little getaway this weekend? Just you and me. Somewhere quiet.”

You turned toward him, the rhythm of your thoughts disrupted. “A getaway? Like… a vacation?” The notion stirred a note of excitement within you that had long been dormant. The idea of distancing yourselves from the daily grind—of seeking solace together—sparked a flicker of hope.

Nicholas nodded, his expression earnest. “Someplace where we can talk, be open. I think we both need a little time to breathe, to focus on each other.”

Feeling a rare swell of emotion, you put down the bill you had been sorting through. “You really think it would help?” There was a hint of disbelief in your voice, as if you had almost forgotten the two of you could enjoy simple pleasures together amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Absolutely. Just you and me. And maybe some nature, fresh air, and absolutely no distractions,” he replied, a knowing smile stretching on his face. “We can figure things out together. No pressure.”

You glanced at the pot of pasta simmering away; the steam rising was almost hypnotic. But between each soft putter of the boiling water, you felt the pull of uncertainty—a reminder of the fears that still loomed, like shadows in the background. “What if we focus so much on talking that we end up pushing each other away again?” The doubt slipped out before you could rein it in.

Nicholas sighed softly, placing the wooden spoon down on the counter. He turned to face you fully, allowing the playful banter to fade into the realm of sincerity that had become your new norm. “It’s part of healing, isn’t it? We can’t avoid the tough conversations forever.”

Looking into his eyes, which sparkled not just with love but also with a determination to work through this together, you could see how deeply this mattered to him. Your insecurities waged war inside you, and still, the thought of turning away from that possibility sent a wave of panic crashing through.

“Okay,” you agreed, your voice steadying with resolve. “Let’s do it. A weekend away sounds perfect.” A tentative smile grazed your lips, igniting a glimmer of excitement. Perhaps this was the step you both needed.

As the week rolled by, the anticipation of your weekend getaway began to thaw the lingering frost in your relationship. Each night, you and Nicholas shared small glimpses of normalcy—watching your favorite shows, cooking together, and sometimes, just sitting side by side in silence, the once-painful quiet now a source of comfort.

The more open your conversations became, the more you began to reflect on what had once driven a wedge between you. You realized how easy it had been to retreat into yourself, a learned reaction rooted in your past disappointments. With Nicholas, though, you found safety in honesty—a revelation that came like a dawn after a long, dark night.

On Friday evening, you guys piled into the car with a playful mix of excitement and nervous energy. The road stretched before you like an unwritten story, your destination a small cabin nestled in the woods, just far enough away from bustling city life for you to truly escape. As you drove, Nicholas took your hand, intertwining your fingers—a simple gesture that sent warmth coursing through you.

“Just you and me,” he repeated, glancing at you with a soft smile that spoke volumes. The trees gradually transformed from a blur to individual silhouettes with each passing mile—stories waiting to be told, mysteries to unravel.

When you finally arrived, the cabin stood sturdily against the backdrop of towering pines and a rapidly darkening sky. It felt like a hidden treasure, a safe harbor from the storms that had threatened to destroy everything you held dear. Stepping inside, the scent of cedar enveloped you, mingled with a crackling fire that flickered warmly in the stone fireplace.

As you settled into the space, the initial thrill of the getaway settled into a tender stillness. You sat on the couch, the warmth of the fire playing along the walls as Nicholas draped an arm around you. “Here’s to new beginnings,” he toasted, raising an imaginary glass. Laughter bubbled from your lips—an echo of familiarity, the joy somewhat striking in its discomfort after the recent storm.

The evening unfurled like a blanket, soft, reassuring. Comforted by the gentle sounds of the wilderness outside, you found the courage to engage in small talk that danced around deeper fears. “I’ve been thinking about therapy,” you admitted quietly as you both watched the flames flicker.

“Really? I think that’s a great idea,” Nicholas said, his voice encouraging as he leaned closer. “And I’d love to go with you. I want to be part of your journey in any way I can.”

His words resonated like a soothing lullaby, and for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel the walls closing in. The conversation turned to lighter topics—memories, holiday plans, and silly dreams. And amid the laughter, you realized that rebuilding trust didn’t just stem from big declarations—it thrived in the everyday moments, the tenderness shared in glances and gestures.

As the night deepened, ultimately it became clear: fear and love could coexist, but it was how you navigated the waters between them that defined your journey. Slowly, you began to understand that while you didn’t have all the answers, the effort to communicate was your most significant step forward.

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sprawling beach. Waves lapped softly at the shoreline, their rhythmic cadence soothing the remnants of tension that had once gripped your heart. You walked along the sands, hand in hand with Nicholas, each step feeling lighter than the last. It was a picturesque scene—one that felt vibrant and alive—much like the renewed connection you both shared.

“How perfect is this?” Nicholas broke the silence, glancing at you with a smile that lit up his face. His eyes sparkled with the same warmth as the setting sun, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“It is,” you replied, letting the gentle breeze ruffle your hair. It was moments like this that reminded you how far you’d come. The ocean stretched endlessly before you, mirroring the vast possibilities of the future laid out ahead.

Nicholas paused, pulling you closer as you walked. His presence felt reassuring, grounding. You had spent countless sleepless nights processing your fears, the weight of your mother’s shadow looming large. Yet here you were, finally facing those insecurities, hand in hand with someone who promised to navigate the unknown by your side.

“Can you believe how much has changed since our fight?” Nicholas asked, his tone hinting at disbelief, yet filled with hope.

You could hardly believe it yourself. The storm that had once threatened to capsize your relationship now felt like a distant memory—something you had survived together, anchored in honesty and understanding.

“What we talked about… it’s not gone, but it doesn’t feel as terrifying anymore,” you confessed. “I think facing it head-on made it easier to breathe.”

Nicholas nodded thoughtfully, his fingers tightening around yours. “I’m just glad we’re both willing to talk about it. Can you imagine how different things would be if we didn’t have that conversation?”

You shuddered at the thought. The idea of burying your fears, of risking silence over honesty, felt suffocating. “I know I was scared to share my feelings before,” you began, looking up at him. “But your reaction…it changed everything for me.”

His eyes softened at your words. “I’m always here for you. It’s just a matter of finding the right way to open up. I wanted to be supportive but didn’t know how. I never want you to feel like your fears make you less deserving of love.”

There was a richness to his voice that filled you with warmth. Nicholas had done more than express his love—he had actively opened the door to healing. Knowing that he was here to buoy you through those moments of despair allowed you to cultivate hope.

With the sun now sinking lower, the sky was ablaze with color—blues and violets mixing with the fading gold of the day. You settled down on a nearby blanket laid out earlier, creating a cozy spot to watch the world’s beauty unfold. Nicholas joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, his presence an anchor in a world that often felt chaotic.

“What if we made it a tradition?” he suggested, gazing out at the water, which glistened in the dimming light like thousands of diamonds scattered across the surface. “Coming here, whenever we need a reset. Just you and me.”

You smiled at the thought, imagining countless sunsets shared together, a space ever filled with laughter and honesty. “I love that idea. It’s like a reminder that we can always come back to each other.”

Nicholas turned to face you, his expression earnest. “And we’ll continue to talk, to share. About everything. There’s no shame in discussing our fears. Sometimes they’ll deepen but others, like with kids… it’s no longer just a ‘what-if’ if we approach it together. It’s just a matter of time.”

The thought made your heart race, fluttering with both excitement and lingering fear. “I want that, but it terrifies me still.”

It’s okay to feel that way,” he assured you, his gaze steady. “What’s important is that we’re growing together. We won’t rush anything—but we both know facing that chapter when we’re ready, together, is what counts.”

That sense of mutual understanding allowed a certain relief to wash over you. Navigating the future felt less like a solitary journey through treacherous waters and more like a gentle drift under the stars, together in a small boat.

“I never thought I would feel this way,” you admitted softly. “About children, about us. That I could come to terms with my past while looking forward to what’s ahead, no matter what it looks like.”

Nicholas smiled, his warmth radiating through you as his thumb gently stroked your arm. “You’re not destined to repeat your mother’s mistakes. You’re stronger than you realize. Whatever route we take, I promise to be alongside you. You’ll never be alone in this.”

The final flush of sunlight dipped below the horizon, the twilight wrapping you both in a cocoon of soft shadows. You leaned your head against Nicholas’s shoulder, comforted by his promise and knowing that trust had been rebuilt through vulnerability.

“Let’s make plans,” you said suddenly, a surge of bravery rising within you. “Not just about kids but about us. Let’s talk about where we see our lives heading—the little things we can do to nurture our love.”

Nicholas’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Absolutely. Maybe we can start with that cooking class you mentioned or exploring some new trails for hiking?”

“Or finding a place together!” you proposed, a giddy anticipation bubbling inside.

The possibilities felt endless, a blank canvas primed for new experiences. In that moment, everything shifted—the uncertainty you once feared began to fade, replacing it with eagerness and hope.

As you both made tentative plans for the future, a sense of exhilaration enveloped you. You grasped his hand tighter, feeling the warmth of connection both profound and palpable.

You realized, perhaps for the first time, that the future was not just a timeline filled with uncertainties; it was a landscape you would cultivate together, day by day, moment by moment.

Nicholas pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as the last traces of daylight disappeared. Together, you stared out into the darkening sea, where the stars began to twinkle overhead. No longer on the precipice of fear, you knew deep within that you would face whatever came—together, always.

In that tranquil embrace, you felt a swell of gratitude wash over you. For love. For trust. For new beginnings. As the waves rolled in softly beneath the starlit sky, you held onto hope tightly and realized:

Your journey was only just beginning.

[mcteofuentes]

CONT. FROM HERE

"Wise and drop dead gorgeous, huh? Well, I'm flattered that I look like one of your characters. Right?! You just can't go wrong with them, and I've never thought about having bananas frozen before. Are they good?" @kitslovelxce

[mcteofuentes]

Go big or go home, yeah? Or you can do both and take a shower when you get home. Oh, for sure. I remember getting a little bullied when I was younger when I was a little dirty from playing or forgetting to take a bath. But you know, I'd like to think it helped build my character. I think you're right. Anyways, how have you been?

I guess if you're going to be gross, you might as well aim for being he most gross one, right? Or not, who knows. Well, the girls will be mean if he doesn't wash up, so that helps. I'm sure you could pull any of that off, there's something that works for everyone out there, in fact. Or that's what I believe.

[coolgrl111]

love is overrated

patrick x reader

The two of you lay sprawled across the couch, the faint glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm light over the room. Your head rests comfortably on Patrick’s firm stomach, the steady rise and fall of his breathing a familiar rhythm beneath you. His hand absentmindedly strokes your hair as you both settle into a shared silence.

“Did you see Art and Tashi today?” you ask, a soft laugh escaping your lips, breaking the quiet. “Jesus Christ.”

Patrick chuckles in response, his body rumbling beneath you, the sound low and comforting. You can’t help but smile at the shared amusement.

“They're so gross!” you continue, shaking your head slightly. “Like, I’m happy for them, don’t get me wrong, but they make me sick.”

Patrick’s hand pauses for a moment, then resumes its gentle caress. His agreement is unspoken, but the easy way he laughs along with you is enough. There's a peacefulness to this moment, a sense that neither of you needs to fill the space with too many words.

You sigh, closing your eyes for a beat before gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, your head still nestled against him. “Can you even imagine acting like that?” you ask softly, the question lingering between you. “I don’t think any man could make me act like that.”

He shifts slightly beneath you, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns in your hair, his eyes meeting yours for a brief, thoughtful second. There’s something unspoken in the air—something neither of you are quite ready to confront, but it hovers just on the edge of awareness, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

Patrick doesn’t say anything immediately, but his hand on your head speaks volumes. His presence is steady, reassuring, but there’s a tension in the quiet that suggests the conversation isn't quite over, that there's more than just laughter and casual musings lying beneath your words.

————

The living room felt like a memory, warm and worn, the light dimmed by the fading evening. The once playful chatter between you and Patrick had settled into something quieter, deeper—an unspoken connection neither of you wanted to define. It had been months since that afternoon spent laughing about Art and Tashi, months of you and Patrick spending more time together, slipping effortlessly into each other’s lives.

But tonight, something felt different.

You were sitting on the floor now, leaning back against the couch, Patrick’s legs stretched out on either side of you as he sat behind, his presence as familiar as the space you shared. The TV played softly in the background, though neither of you were paying attention. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of a moment neither of you had spoken about pressing in around you both.

“So,” Patrick began, his voice softer than usual, a little rougher at the edges. “Are we going to pretend we’re still just friends, or are we finally going to talk about it?”

Your heart skipped, even though you’d half-expected the question to come sooner or later. You stared ahead, not quite ready to turn around and meet his gaze. The sound of the TV buzzed like static in the background, a distant hum that made the silence between you feel louder.

“I don’t know,” you murmured, your voice barely audible. You could feel his presence leaning in closer, the familiar warmth of him now carrying a kind of urgency that wasn’t there before.

Patrick sighed lightly, his breath brushing the back of your neck. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted. His hands, usually so casual and unbothered when they touched you, now rested deliberately on your shoulders, gentle but sure. “About us.”

Your chest tightened at the words. They hung in the air between you like a tether, something binding you to a truth you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to confront. For months, you’d let the playful banter and late-night conversations keep you afloat, but now… now everything was different.

You turned your head slightly, just enough to glance back at him. His face was earnest, his green eyes steady, searching yours for an answer. And in that moment, the laughter and easy companionship you had always shared felt distant—replaced by something far more complicated.

“Do you remember what I said that day? About Art and Tashi?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Patrick’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded. “That you could never imagine acting like that with someone.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet. “I lied.”

His breath hitched, just for a second, and you could feel the weight of those unspoken moments between you. The way his hand would linger on your arm a little too long, or the way you’d find yourself watching him, waiting for him to notice you in a way that wasn’t just friendly.

Patrick let out a shaky laugh, the sound more surprised than amused. “I figured,” he said, his hands still on your shoulders, his fingers tightening slightly, almost as if he were anchoring himself. “I don’t think I could ever act like that with anyone either. Except you.”

You turned around fully this time, kneeling between his legs, your faces inches apart. The air between you felt electric, like the entire room was holding its breath.

You didn’t need to say anything more. There was no need to analyze every moment that had brought you to this point, or to go back to all the times you’d both skirted around the inevitable. You knew it. He knew it. And now, there was no going back.

Patrick’s hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light but deliberate. For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable but undeniably tender.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispered, almost as if speaking the thought aloud made it real.

“You won’t,” you said, surprising yourself with the certainty in your voice. And then, before either of you could second-guess, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen for a long time.

It wasn’t rushed or intense, but slow, almost cautious—like you were both testing the waters of something you’d both been afraid to ruin. But as soon as it happened, everything else fell away. The laughter, the teasing, even the conversations about Art and Tashi seemed distant now, irrelevant.

When you pulled away, Patrick rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “So… what now?”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers still lightly touching the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words honest but not uncertain. “But I think we’ll figure it out.”

Patrick grinned, his eyes fluttering open, looking at you with the same affection and ease that had always been there—only now, there was something more behind it.

“We always do,” he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence, as though everything that had happened between you up until this point had been leading to this.

And for the first time in a long while, you believed him.

[speckle-peony]

[An audio recording. Listen?

"The gala is overrated," a voice says. It's Speckle's mom, annoyed with the conversation topic.

"You've always gone before," another voice says. It's not Speckle's, but it's somewhat similar. It's their twin brother, Evan. "What changed about this year?"

"Well, I know I love going yo the gala with my boys, but I just don't want to this year."

"Not a boy," Speckle grumbles. They're picking at their food with a pair of chopsticks.

Evan either ignores them or doesn't hear them before he continues. "Even Jacob is going! And he's autistic!"

"I'm just going for the food," Jacob says between chewing.

"And your brother is going like that," another voice says. It's Speckle's dad.

Speckle starts to growl, but stops. "First, not a boy. Second, what do you mean like that?"

"I still can't believe you want to go, looking like... like a Pokémon, and not even doing anything about it," their mom says.

"Not like I can do anything about it," Speckle says.

"Are you even looking for a way to be a human again?"

"Honestly, mom? I've stopped trying. There isn't anything know in modern science that could turn me back."

"So you're just giving up on being our son? Being a person?"

Speckle fully growls now. "I haven't been a boy in a long, long time. I might as well be happy with my life, since I can't do anything to change it."

"So you're happy like that? Being a fuckin Pokémon?"

"I am!" Speckle snaps. "I'm fucking happier than I have been in a long fucking time! My friends are actually my friends, my life is my own, and I'm more fucking comfortable in this fucking body than I ever fucking was a fucking human!"

You could hear a pin drop in the silence. Literally. Some kind of utensil clatters to the table.

Then, all that is heard is the beginning of Speckle's tears, as a chair pushes away, and pawpads are heard running off.

End of audio recording]

[mcteofuentes]

Kind of like rolling the dice and seeing what happens, yeah? As someone who has stayed in pretty much the same area, I can't compare it to anywhere else, but I do think you can't get good ol' Maine weather anywhere else. I always feel renewed in a way once the snow melts away and the colors start to pop out. Which I guess makes sense since everything is becoming new again. Do you ever feel that way?

Yeah, exactly! I always get surprised to see what items fly off the shelves, and it's always either paint or boxing tape that people want the most. Ah, well, let me know when you're about to stop by and I can help you out.

Absolutely! I don't think I've seen anywhere else that has quite as big a transformation in the spring. One day it's the same old white and grey, and the next it's all pink and blue and green and yellow. I love it.

That definitely makes sense. A bunch of weekend warriors coming in for their spring cleaning and new DIY projects, huh? You might see my face in there soon, as well. I was looking through our tools and it's definitely time for a new hoe, and some better spades.

[petrichoresque]

people listen

People watching? That's overrated. There's something special about people watching, but even more so when you people listen. I wonder why we don't hear this phrase more often, to people listen. After all, we often say not to judge a book by its cover, so shouldn't we listen more to what people have to say?

"Be curious, not judgmental."

I was in the lift just the other day, and I overheard a conversation. A fairly mundane conversation between father and daughter, but somehow it struck a chord somewhere in me.

I get emotional at the slightest of things these days.

Hospitals see the most genuine tears, and airports the most genuine goodbyes. Cab drivers hear the most, but perhaps lifts hear the most casual, but genuine conversations.

One day on a warm, breezy Wednesday afternoon, I hope I will be able to sit along the streets of Italy in a cafe and people listen.

Of romantic sweet nothings young couples whisper to each other and the laughter of children, and the comfortable silence between two who have endured life's hardships through the test of time together. I always think there is beauty in the words uttered from those who have lived generations, but even more so in their meaningful silence. 

That which cannot be bought but by time itself, is valuable beyond measure.

[a-r-s-o-n-3]

Wanna watch two neurodegeneratives fight it out because their both too stubborn and don't understand they're both as bad as eachother? Well here you are;

*Dear and Abby walk up to Rose. Rose minding her own business and surprised to see them both walk up at the same time*

Abby: Rosie we need you help deciding something.

Rose: O-ok...?

Dear: We're trying figure out who's more neurodivergent.

Rose: Why?

Abby: Because they're saying it's me when it's more them.

Dear: You make random noises when you think no one is around.

Abby, *Genuinely surprised*: How do you know that?!?

Dear: We work in a library... literally one of the quietest places around(!)

Abby: Ok fair. But you don't stop moving and whenever you are still, you stand. Not sit.

Dear: What's wrong with standing?

Abby: You were standing reading and checking your phone for 6 hours the other day.

Dear: It's because I constantly move when sitting that I stand. When I stand, I'm not fidgeting, not moving, not-

Abby: You sway. You rock back and fourth ever so slightly.

Dear: You don't understand social queues.

Abby: You're a perfectionist.

Dear: Where as you live in chaos.

Abby: Don't diss my chaos mess, I get my work done.

Dear: Eventually(!)

Abby: You focus WAY too much on your work, so before you know it, it's been 3 hours and you haven't had a break, drank water or eaten(!)

Dear: I like the work I do(!)

Abby: And because of that you hyper focus too much(!)

Dear: I hyper focus! You're whole job is based on a hyper fixation you've had since you were little(!)

Abby: And half of it was out of spite to prove it wasn't a phase!

Dear: And look where that phase got you!

Abby: At least I'm comfortable in my phase! What are you?! Still stuck between 2005 bisexual Myspace or 2020 lockdown Tik Tok?!

Rose: Enough both of you! You are both as bad as eachother. What does it matter anyways? You both are still going to scurry away back to the office which I know you've both nicknamed "the goblin cave" with all you snacks and energy drinks. Dear you're hoodie, that you've been wearing for as long as I've known you, is still going to be there. Abby you're fidget toys are still going to be on the desk, where you left them so you don't have to worry about that. You'll both go back to sitting in silence and then at random intervals one of you will amke a nose the other will copy and go back to sitting in silence till one of you shows the other a 'cool thing' you found whislt putting off doing your work.

Dear: I think she just set us straight.

Abby: You ain't straight.

Dear: One to talk.

Abby: I could be straight.

Dear: Cuffed jeans, converse, eye brow slit and sweater weather on your playlist? I think the fuck not!

Abby: Being straights overrated.

[mcteofuentes]

Yeah, I get that. I know change can be super scary for some people, so they're always going to be a little resistant with changing their habits or uncomfortable with doing something different. But hopefully they see that you're there to help them and guide them. Yes, exactly! I think that staying in a mindset that's healthy does take work but it's worth it. Any effort is good. I think so, too. Whether you're walking through the neighborhood or driving, there's always someone outside to smile and wave at. Or make small conversation with. Merrock's looking very pretty with all of the flowers and plants. No problem! How's your summer going so far? Been cooking outside or taking a lot of rides lately?

Very. Coming up against a patient that is so, so dead set against changing or making life better for themselves has always thrown me, I'll admit. But there are people out there who do it every ay. I think so, too -- and it's okay to have off, sad days, as long as it doesn't take over your entire life and make it hard for you to live and survive on an average, every day that you come up against. This is a great time of year to live in the suburbs, too, everyone out doing yard work, you can stop and say hi. And all the flowers, once they get the beds planted, too! That's always nice to see. You can end up saying all the chocolate for Easter is actually for you. I did! Thank you for the gifts! Espie and I took a bike ride up along the coast, and then there was a very nice dinner that followed, it almost made me forget my age.

[borathae]

Girls do you have a dating advice? I'm coming here because I like that this space doesn't cater to overrated stupid gender roles.

I like this guy on my campus and I felt he might too so ended up asking him out for a coffee! He agreed very enthusiastically and chose a lovely café. I felt very comfortable with him but I'm not sure if he considered it a a coffee with a friend. He did share that he's an introvert and he doesn't go out much because he's sober now and that he's shy. He said he wished the coffee meetup was longer he did text me to stay warm and kept the conversation going for a few days after sharing little updates about his day, telling me twice that he really enjoyed talking to me and thought I was smart. Then silence. I reached out, he was very sweet again and we texted briefly. Then silence again for a week.

My question is should I ask him out again or do I wait for him to reciprocate this ? I'm willing to try if it's shyness but I don't want to be the girl that thinks this is something that it isn't. I truly don't mind his shyness but I'm scared he's just being polite and sweet to an acquaintance and that's it.

as an introvert myself who rarely texts back right away, this could just be him being an introvert. After a full day of living in an extrovert ruled world, it can get pretty tiring for us and answering people's texts is sometimes already too much mental work to do even if we really care about the person. also, once we do have free time and time to noone but ourselves, we don't wanna ruin the healing time by making mental space for other humans even if it's just texts, so we'll just tell ourselves "I'll get to that later, I gotta have me time rn". so yeah that could be why there is long pauses in between texting. it's probs not you but him recharging his batteries.

straight men don't tell an acquaintance that they wanted the meetup to be longer and that they enjoyed the talk. bro all my male straight friends are the driest motherfuckers ever despite genuinely caring for our friendship. Most men don't say stuff like that and he's just an acquaintance for now. There's even less reason for him to be that lovey dovey with you other than that he wants to give you romantic hints.

you were strangers (sort of) before you asked him and he agreed enthusiatically. you weren't friends just agreeing on a lil friend date in a local café, you guys were strangers who met up with the goal of getting to know each other better. which also brings me back to point two. he didn't really know you before your meet up, he didn't have any sort of unspoken friendship friendliness rule of "tell your friends you liked the hangout" to follow.

Yes ask him out. we've long stopped waiting for men to make the first move. if you wanna see him again, do it. he'll probably appreciate it because of his shyness.

if it doesn't work out, hell you experienced life and made fucking stories to tell later. you won't die from it and will only come out more mature.

if it works out, congrats you just gave yourself a chance to a (potentially) happy romance. enjoy it.

Sorry if my advice sucked, I think I'm still not back to my full potential. If anyone of you wants to leave advice as well, do so hahaha cause I think mine was very mediocre. i also wanna say that dude idk i think i'm still too sad about what happened to really think clearly. sorry if all my answers were shit, it's because i still feel like shit from bangtan leaving.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Loveless - (50)

<<<Prev Next>>>

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Pairing: Namor x Shuri

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: none

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Chapter 50

They were home.

The cavern embraced them as if it knew who they were. Everything was warm and softly lit, the pools were clear, rejoicing their return with perfect reflections. It didn’t need getting used to, she felt at ease here. It had been strenuous ever since their engagement and through the events of their marriage they hardly had spoken to eachother.

Apart from longing glances and knowing smiles, they could never be alone. Entertaining guests, casual political conversations, interests from new allies, being a good host, even mutants had their breaking points.

Shuri walked ahead lazily, the heels she had worn through the day had finally begun to sting her feet. The coronation was the event of the century and for the people of Talokan, one they thought they would never witness. They had never believed to ever see a queen and yet here she was.

Fate. Or possibly just a random turn of events that had no connection with each other, their superstitions causing them to believe she was this godsend gift when she felt far from it.

He followed her as they took a seat on the seatee, the cushions plush and welcoming. She was a human. As was he. They weren’t folklore or myths and legends. They were just two people who had found each other in most weakest of their moments and in that place, they found love.

She drew close to him, as though he were a magnet, to find comfort and rest as she heard his satisfied sigh. They could sleep right here, entangled in each other’s arms, spend their honeymoon in the privacy of this place and shut out the world for some time. He held her close, his hand mindlessly running back and forth on her arm as he took in this moment of peace but he didn’t stay still for long.

He removed the bracelets on her hand and she let him, as much as she wanted to chide him for not taking a moment to rest, she understood his intent behind his gesture. He knew how it felt to wear heavy adornments through the day, this was his way of helping her relax. So she moved to remove the ornaments on his shoulder, as she pulled it away and made him feel a little lighter, he hummed and she did too when he slipped the heels of her feet, letting her tired toes stretch.

What began as a soft act soon gained momentum, she felt the fire spark within her, this felt like a dream, her eyes following him in the fear that if she looked at something else she’ll go back to sleep, so she drew closer, an urgency in her fingers now. The crest was next and his eyes were dark now, he fiddled with her earrings and snaked his hand around her neck for the necklace.

Lighter and lighter, maybe they weren’t exhausted and all of that was just an illusion, somehow now they were energized. A smile playing on his lips, her siren eyes trying to guess his next move. Words were overrated, when you can read thoughts and understand the language of gestures. It was as though in the silence their hearts had attuned their rhythm to each other’s, everything they did had a sync to it. She worked at removing his cuffs and he pulled her closer by the belt around her waist to remove it and as time passed a trail of jewels followed them.

There was only one adornment on her, the crown he had placed and he was the one to remove it, as though it never really mattered, in his eyes she already was a queen to his nation, someone who held their adoration and his without any validation.

Placing it on the table by their side along with where his crest was, he placed both his hands on either side of her cheeks, his eyes boring into her as it softened. They now stood in front of each other having pulled away their shackles of gold, they were almost bare as he stood their in his tunic and her in this dress.

The fire in their souls simmered, it held itself at bay as he slowly placed his lips on hers.

Finally.

Without eyes peering at them.

Without noise and cheers and military propaganda hanging over their heads, she melted into his embrace.

“We.”, he drew his breath.

“have one last ceremony to complete.”, he said and it let the spark fizzle.

She wasn’t interested in any more ceremonies or celebrations. She wanted to be here, she wanted to sprawl out on the bed and sleep, she wanted …

Her eyes fell to his lips again.

“Do we have to do it today?”, she asked and he knew he was pushing it.

But she didn’t know this was only for them. The light grazed her golden skin on her shoulder and he looked away. His lips beginning to thrum, to find new places to kiss.

He cleared his throat and she looked away. “Yes.”, he mumbled trying to think of new mischief.

He looked at the empty wall behind them.

“I also feel inspired to commemorate this day, a painting of us on that wall.”, he drawled and watched confusion settled on her features.

“Right this instant?”, she pursed her lips. She had different plans.

“I wanted to…”, she furrowed her brows and when she looked at him, the words in her mind were lost. His face was solid and stunning and she sighed.

“spend time with you.”, she mumbled stepping away.

He was a fool. He felt her recede and the game he had in his head didn’t seem fun anymore.

But she turned to him, as though she had a new idea, as though she knew his game.

Of course she did, that’s why he married her.

“Do you really want to paint?”, she asked. She was up to something.

Shuri didn’t wait all this while just to lose to a couple paint brushes. This was to be a night neither forgot for their whole lives and if he was going to torment her by spinning tales then so could she.

“Yes.”, he folded his arms with a grin.

“Fine. I’ll join you.”, she answered, taking a thrill from his confused expression.

He moved away to the wall gathering his brushes. He had lied before. He didn’t want to paint. He wanted to …

He shook his head, he had managed to fumble this. Five hundred years of loneliness made his games a bit rusty.

He sat half heartedly, pulling away his tunic, it was rather warm here or maybe his thoughts were running hay wire. His mind wasn’t on paint.

She watched him pull away his tunic, his bare back chiseled like soft marble. He was taunting her and she grew tired of it. There were no barriers now. So she walked up to him.

He felt the chill run down his spine, the edges of his ears prickled because she was running her hands over his shoulders and he understood. He was playing with an equal, now he was going to be bested.

She felt him freeze under her touch and it felt good, the power she had over him. The power he had over her, empowering her.

She liked him a lot. He had to know. She felt the smile form on her lips as she looped her arms around his neck and moved to sit on his lap. Her faces inches away from his, the breath hitching in his throat, his eyes wide as though he were bedazzled and caught in a daze. The dress slipped up, as she wrapped her legs around his seated form and watched as his hunger crawled its way out, manifesting itself in the way he hummed.

“Who told you the canvas was the wall?”, she whispered and his eyes snapped to hers. She was always one step ahead and here he was gasping for air.

“Give me something to remember.”, he heard her and it shot through his system like electricity.

He knew exactly where his art should be on her. He had often thought of it. A way to fix it, to erase it, that if he ever was to hold her for eternity, he didn’t want it staring back at him.

The final work of restoration to change course and forget history, bury it six feet deep and never return. The permanent ink sat there in front of him and he caught a glimpse of the tattoos on her hands, this felt sacred. Their vows made physical, a love letter to transcend time.

He picked up his brush with soft assurance, as he unlatched her legs from around his torso and positioned her to lie horizontally across him. Her head rested on her knee and her face ethereal like the ocean itself, he smiled not sure why he was moved to tears. Possibly because this ceremony was marking a new beginning.

He inhaled and she felt in control, that was till he held onto the hem of her dress and pulled it up. Not stopping, his hands traversing the length of her leg, over the edge of her lingerie, these were new limits that were being set. The confidence with which she began this had wavered, her body reacting to his touch unlike anything else, her heart rate kicking up, her breathing becoming rapid and the look on his face. He was enjoying this just as she had when she had him under her hold.

The tip of his mouth curved up in that knowing smile and he continued till his hand found the top of her rib. Her eyes widened, her mind mapping out where he was going to paint and there was only one place under her rib that felt out of place. Only place he had left a mark before. One she wanted to forget but couldn’t and as his fingers hovered over her skin. His eyes found hers, as though he knew what it meant to touch scars.

“May I?”, he asked, his voice was raspy, this was a big step for him to. To come together and dissolve this mark made out of hate and convert it into a symbol of love.

She held his gaze, and tears threatened to fall but she nodded and felt his warm fingers touch a part of her she herself couldn’t look at. He took a moment to compose himself and then she felt the cold touch of paint. But her eyes could never leave his face. Watching him work his magic, to hold a part of him forever.

He drew back to see the scar that was now no where to be found, in its place a tattoo, a Mayan symbol that meant 'forgiveness', because she was the embodiment of it in his life. It was done, it felt like he had closed a book.

This old book now belonged in the archives for he was staring at a new page. The first picture in it, one of her just as she laid on him right this instant. Words had escaped him, so he bent down to place a kiss under the scar, a new place. She caressed his cheek and he held her hand in place, her warmth grounding him to this moment.

But instead she took the paintbrush from his hand, now sitting to face him again. She drew closer to kiss him and the pains of existence vanished as her lips traversed his stubble and the length of his neck. He never received any validation of love from someone else, not like how she gave it to him, so he liked this, to be touched and kissed and admired.

He fell onto his back, giving him up to her hold and she felt a part of her had come alive. She wasn’t a girl anymore, she was a woman and he made her feel like one. She sat on his abdomen, drawing back to look at him, his flushed cheeks and boyish smile, this was how she was going to remember him always. As her scar transformed into a work of art so did memories of him. It was time for old things to die, to make room for the new.

She ran her hand down his solid chest and stopped under his rib.

Matching wounds, matching scars, that’s were their invisible string ran. That’s what tied them together.

She held the paintbrush over his skin as she looked to him. He nodded and she drew an African symbol, it's meaning 'eternal'. Because that was what their relationship was going to be. That was what he was for her, her eternal haven.

This felt perfect, a night to commemorate their beginning, but there was something else she wanted to share.

“I ran the tests.”, she said, her eyes slowly finding his.

“And?”, he asked furrowing his brows in worry, his hands rubbing the back of her calf as a form of comfort.

“My cells seem to be showing slower signs of aging. It cannot compare to yours but it definitely is quite significant.”, she played with the fingers of his outstretched hand.

“The panthers that arise from the new herb might portray certain similarities with Talokan abilities. It only paves a way for the Black panther to be a guardian for your people and mine.”, she explained but his eyes were distant.

“So that means …”, he had lost his words again, this news so significant, so vital and life changing.

“That means you’re not getting rid of me for a very long time.”, she replied and he sank back into the floor.

He was not going to be alone for a very long time.

This had to be celebrated, he wanted to get up and dance, swirl around with her in his arms and yell out to the sky, to his mother, that he had found it, the happiness she had always told him to believe in.

The pools swirled with mist, the water prepped to be warm with sea salts to soothe their aching bodies after parading through the entire day but now it felt intimate. He led her towards it. The glow worms accentuating the blue of the water, they both had to be rejuvenated. To relax. He turned to her and she let him, to peel away her dress.

It was one thing to have him admire her for her intellect , it was another when he adored her beauty, like now, as he stood in awe, as though nothing else in his long life could compare.

“Sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind me you’ve chosen me.”, he whispered and it kicked her body into overdrive.

Enough of playing nice and soft. The war was over. The night was still young. And the future was far away. She took the dress from his hand and threw it to the side. She laughed as she ran to the pool and jumped in, the water feeling fresh against her skin when she turned back to see him dive towards her. He waded closer, pushing back his hair, his eyes were saying the same thing she was thinking.

I want you.

Nothing could deter him and neither did she want to, he drew closer, the warm water grew warmer and the first touch on her skin was electric.

This was where they belonged, in the water, just them, with invisible music and a language only they could understand.

His lips found hers and everything else could wait.

She pulled him closer.

Everything else could wait.

----

🥺😭💖😏😌🔥

Tags:

@mazune @lilsadb-itch

@hypernhappy @elmush @paperback-writer0807 @sirenbeloved @aslutforscarletwitch99 @gotship123456 @girlymusiclover09 @hoeforsuk @plutosundercoverking @championofthegalaxy @theheartofgrey @wonderkimi-chat @theamericanjewitch @amillylove20 @goldshawty1001 @lvnamiller @euphoricjupiter @queenoffantasyland @terrab3 @dumbbcam @1000heartbeats @agirlwithwinter @fartdart25 @wxnderstruck @sheisbrunetteworld @ijustwanttopasstime @namurii @presidentlokiluvrsblog @itgetzweird08 @littlepadika-main @did-i-ask-no @sorandomfangirl @babybubastis @denise-huxxtable @mhj-url @yippeeki-yah @darlingdandridge @gervi86 @geeyooo @therealoutereffect @notredamneit @Ilevame-a-la-lunaa @queen-of-knowhere @deluluzone @sheontcare @jupiter9545 @fandomsleaveuemotionallyscarred @too-many-atoms @lavenderhazel95 @33shadowhunters @enmuswife3 @serpensastrum @c0vidtest @luthientinu @urlocallsimp @jaytheunique @dillie60

[nagichi-boop]

A Star That’s Out of Reach (Chapter 3)

[Previous] - [Next]

[Masterlist]

Apologies for not posting this sooner! I’ve been kinda stressed and so I forgot.

CW/TW - blood, nightmares, panic attack (sorta)

— x —

Shadow slowly opened his eyes. For the first time in days, he seemed to have been able to sleep decently. He stretched his arms out, and upon realising that the house was quiet, he laid back down again and stared at the ceiling, thinking to himself about his conversation with Amy. Just as he was about to get lost in thought, he heard Rouge scream in the other room. He quickly got up again, hopping out of bed and making his way to Rouge.

“What’s wrong?” Shadow asked as he saw Rouge staring in her treasure room panicking.

“The Chaos Emeralds,” Rouge cried out. “There’s only two here!” Shadow immediately tensed up, remembering what he did last night.

“Yeah, so about that,” Shadow mumbled, nervously looking away. Rouge quickly pivoted round to face Shadow.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Rouge enquired stiffly.

“I may have given a couple to Sonic and his friends,” he replied, further facing away from Rouge.

“You WHAT?” She yelled, bracing herself to attack him.

“You know they’d come for them anyway,” Shadow excused in an attempt to calm Rouge down. “At least this way they’ll leave us alone for a while.” She backed off, folding her arms, then sighed.

“Fine,” she complied. “I suppose what we have is better than nothing.” She then sternly pointed at Shadow. “But next time you do something like this, clear it with me first to spare me of the heart attack, okay?” Shadow nodded in agreement. “As punishment, you’re gonna help me make breakfast.”

Shadow chuffed obediently. The two of them wandered into the kitchen and began preparing breakfast. A comfortable silence lingered in the room until eventually Rouge’s curiosity got the better of her.

“You know, it’s been a while since you stayed the night here,” she acknowledged.

“For some reason, I was able to get a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Rouge hummed thoughtfully. “I’m surprised, I would’ve thought that given how frustrated you were yesterday that the opposite would be true. I suppose last night’s stroll calmed you down?”

“I guess so,” Shadow responded bluntly.

“What was so special about last night compared to the other nights?” Rouge pushed inquisitively.

“Nothing in particular,” Shadow answered as he used a spatula to turn the eggs in the frying pan. “The weather must have just been particularly peaceful.” Rouge hummed curiously, but decided not to push it. It was rare enough to be in the same room with him for so long, so she let it slide. They plated the food and then made their way to the dining table. Omega soon joined them and they talked about their experiences the previous day to Shadow, who attentively listened while eating.

“So how did your mission go, Shadow?” Rouge asked before shovelling more food into her mouth.

“Not as exciting as what you two face,” Shadow replied dismissively. “I ran into some of Sonic’s crew, faced Eggman briefly and then met up with you two.” He then nonchalantly continued to eat his food which Rouge and Omega gave each other meaningful looks.

“That was a very trimmed way of explaining it,” Rouge noted, then smiled and rested her chin on her hand. “But I won’t push it. I’m just glad you’re here talking with us. We haven’t eaten together in a long time.”

Shadow lifted his head, returning her gaze. “Is that significant?”

“Well,” Rouge spoke, then took a moment to collect her thoughts. “It’s less about the activity and more about the fact that we are friends. Dare I say I even consider you guys my family?” Shadow’s eyes widened in surprise. “We have done so much together and I trust you both a lot. Sure, we aren’t related by blood, but blood relations are overrated anyway.”

“I DO NOT HAVE BLOOD,” Omega added. Shadow and Rouge looked at each other then chuckled amongst themselves. Shadow then stared down at his plate with a bittersweet smile.

“I care about you guys, too,” he commented. “I guess it’s just been hard for me to see people in that light ever since…” He went silent. Rouge gently placed her hand atop Shadow’s.

“It’s fine if you don’t see us that way,” she comforted softly. “I just want you to know that you’re important to me. I care about you both a lot and am very grateful to have you in my life.” The room fell into a somber silence as the three of them thought to themselves. Rouge then abruptly stood up. “All this mushy stuff is making me uncomfortable,” she jested. She looked at Shadow and then stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “Just take your time, sweetie,” she said, then began collected her’s and Shadow’s plates and took them into the kitchen. “You’re free to wander now, children,” she added, waving her hand in the air sassily.

Shadow stood up from the table and made his way out and towards the door. He hesitated before he turned the handle.

“I’m going for a walk,” he called out, then left. He wandered around aimlessly, taking the time to take in the scenery. He wasn’t quite sure why, but he felt a strange warmth in his chest. Without realising it, he eventually wound up in the area Sonic and his friend’s lived. He stopped and looked out over them, observing them interacting with one another. His attention was caught by Amy and Sonic talking with one another, then noticed a shimmering object in Amy’s hand.

“The Chaos Emerald,” he mumbled to himself before continuing to watch their interaction. Sonic took the emerald, then gave Amy a thumbs off before leaving her in the dust. Shadow scrunched his face up. “That stupid hedgehog,” he muttered again. He then became conflicted. ‘Wait, why do I even care about this?’ he thought to himself. He shook his head, then turned and walked away.

He continued to wander around, making sure to grab some food in the city before he went to his usual spot and sat under the tree, overlooking the city. He ate his food as he rested against the tree, enjoying the breeze. After finishing, he closed his arms, sat down against the tree and rested for a bit, hoping to take advantage of his good streak with sleeping recently. To his surprise, he managed to fall asleep again.

He opened his eyes, but was surprised to see himself back on the Ark. He looked around and then realised that he was in a tube. Then he noticed…

“Maria?” he spoke softly. Standing outside of the pod was Maria, stood over a control panel bleeding out.

“Shadow,” she mumbled just loud enough for Shadow to hear. “Why…”

“Maria!” Shadow began pounding on the glass. “Maria, don’t do this!” All of a sudden she distorted and appeared in front of Shadow, tears flowing from her eyes and her hair draped across her face as she stared at Shadow. She placed her hand on the glass, leaving a bloody handprint.

“Why did you do this to me, Shadow?” she whimpered. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” he cried out. “I didn’t mean-” He was interrupted by the sound of sirens, the room flashing bright red then falling dark in rapid succession. Each time the light flashed, Shadow was met with Maria’s horrifying stare which seemed to pierce right through him. He began breathing heavily, clutching his chest in pain. The sirens blared louder, causing Shadow to crouch down and cover his ears.

He then shot up panting. He looked around frantically to see the city he had seen before he fell unconscious, the sky now painted crimson. He continued to breath deeply, trying to compose himself. As he settled, he placed a hand on his forehead.

“Just a dream,” he whispered to himself, trying to calm himself down. After catching his breath, he leaned his head back and looked up to the sky. “How pathetic.”

The moon soon showed itself, gracing the earth with her light. Shadow stared at it reminiscently. The breeze became brisk, though he appreciated it as it helped keep him alert despite feeling exhausted.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a familiar voice chirped. Shadow glanced back and saw Amy peering her head from around the tree. “I see you’re sitting down today. Mind if I join you?” Shadow shook his head tiredly, then shuffled over a little to make room for Amy. She sat down happily, though closer to Shadow that he was expecting.

“So what brings you out here?” Shadow asked.

“It’s just been one of those days I guess,” she sighed. “Another day of Sonic being Sonic.” Shadow felt a tightness well up in his chest, but chose to ignore it. He didn’t quite know what to say to Amy. She looked at him, then noticed he refused to look at her, his face somewhat serious looking. “Is everything okay, Shadow? You seem a bit tense.”

Shadow briefly glanced over at Amy, then hastily looked away again. “It’s nothing,” he replied dismissively. “Just a silly dream.”

Amy then leaned over, getting even closer to Shadow. “That’s not nothing,” she sternly remarked. “Clearly it was upsetting to you. You can talk to me.” Shadow leaned away from Amy, seemingly unable to meet her eyes. The tightness in his chest grew. He sighed defeatedly.

“I had a dream about Maria,” he confided, to which Amy backed off a little. “I was back with her in the ARK. She was covered in blood, scruffy looking.” Shadow became uncomfortable, then leaned forward. “She questioned my love for her. She always does.”

Amy tilted her head. “Do you have dreams like that often?”

Shadow nodded. “I struggle to sleep a lot of the time because I get anxious. And when I do sleep, it usually results in me waking up in a cold sweat.”

Amy placed her hand gently atop Shadow’s. “I’m sorry, Shadow,” she spoke softly. “That must be really difficult.” Shadow looked at her in disbelief, then relaxed his expression. The tension in his chest eased a little.

“I just wish I had more memories of her from before the incident,” Shadow confided. “I know we used to be close and I have fond feelings for her. But when I try to think back to our memories in detail, it all becomes hazy.”

Amy returned her hand to her side. “Yeah, that does sound difficult. I guess with everything that’s happened, it makes sense.” She stared up at the moon. “I don’t really know what to say, sorry.”

Shadow shook his head slowly. “You don’t have to do anything.” He then smiled halfheartedly and placed his chin in his hand, looking at Amy fondly. “You being here is enough.”

Amy looked back at him then smiled affectionately. “I’m glad!”

Shadow then paused for a moment, then looked back at the moon. “In a way,” he continued. “You remind me of her.”

Amy leaned to the side and looked at him. “I do? How?”

“Well, you both have a deep compassion for other people. And I get the sense that like her, you would do anything to protect those you care about.”

“Aw,” Amy cooed, cupping her hands on her cheeks. “That’s really sweet of you.”

Shadow warmly grinned, closing his eyes and lowering his head. “Though unlike Maria, you have a steel-like determination. You’re strong in mind and body, even though some people might overlook that quality of yours.” He opened his eyes and glanced up again. “Maria always seemed unsure of herself, I guess because she felt limited in what she could do. But you aren’t.”

Amy quietly listened to Shadow. Something about the compassion in his eyes warmed her heart. She then chuckled a little, drawing Shadow’s attention to her. “You’re really kind, you know that?”

Shadow suddenly felt as though something was grasping his chest. He clutched it, leaning forward to try and lessen the feeling.

“Are you okay, Shadow?” Amy asked, leaning closer to Shadow in concern. He briefly glanced to her, then shot up to his feet frantically.

“I have to go,” he said shakily. “I’m sorry.” Without waiting for a reply, Shadow dashed away from Amy, who had just brung herself to her feet. She held both of her hands to her chest, worried about Shadow’s abrupt exit.

“Shadow…” she spoke to herself glumly. “I hope you’re okay.”

[mcteofuentes]

That's good! And even more so that summer is coming up, you'll have more time to do things. Oh, I get you on that! I remember having to go to Walmart to wait to get my picture developed and now people can just print them off from their phone. I have always loved how tangible photo albums are. Because you can pass those down, but with phones I feel like it's harder to keep track of. I do think Kodak single cameras are coming back into style, though. Got any plans for June?

Yeah! Got some time to do a bit more at home. After grading papers and doing some planning, it was nice to get that extra time as well. And thankfully there were not too many meetings! The old photo albums take up a lot of space. Now everything is digital! It is so different nowadays because physical pictures aren’t trendy anymore. Those I really don’t want to get rid of. I want to keep them just for future reference and memories to bring up. Haha, our kids will have keepsakes! I have, been out and about and also at the library. It’s been fun. @mcteofuentes

[ihateoc]

Sleepless Nights

(word count: 1,898) (sleepless mercenary)

Laying on his back, Shadow stares at the unfamiliar ceiling above him. The apartment is too clean, too quiet compared to the countless dirty hideouts and ragged safe houses he had hidden in before. He remembers days when sleep wasn't a luxury but an enemy. Falling into slumber could have meant waking up dead. 

He recalls one specific instance during training when his handler, a brutal man who went by the alias Z, deprived him of sleep for three straight days until the former mercenary's vision blurred, his legs buckling underneath him. Sleep deprivation meant pushing past limits and crawling through pain, lessons that stayed with him even after escaping from under Z’s thumb. 

Groaning softly, he turns over onto his side in bed, glancing at the digital clock beside it, the time reading as past 3am, "Fuck," He mutters under his breath. 

 This isn’t supposed to feel like home. Not yet anyway. He had spent so many nights just lying around waiting for something or someone. And now what was he expected to do? Just wait here as time slips by unnoticed? 

He heaves a sigh, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and exiting his room in favor of the kitchen for a glass of water. Or whiskey. He would decide when he got there. The sound of him rummaging through the cabinets without any discretion wakes up his roommate who enters the room sleepily, wearing his pajamas. 

"Ugh, Shadow, it's like 3am. What are you doing?" Bennett asks before yawning into his hand. 

"Couldn't sleep," Shadow replies, shrugging his lanky shoulders as he pours himself a glass of whiskey. He needed something to numb the silence that was clawing into him. 

Bennett rubs his eyes tiredly and sits down across from Shadow on one of the stools around the kitchen island, "And you think alcohol is going to help?" 

The former mercenary wasn't sure if Bennett's disheveled appearance or dry sarcasm reminded him more of Ren. But either way, he couldn't suppress an annoying smirk at the thought.  

His roommate stands up from his seat, "I'll make some tea. Pour that back in the bottle. You shouldn't be drinking this late at night," He scolds him, similar to that of a mother, before digging around in the cabinets and putting a kettle on the stove. 

Shadow rolls his eyes but obeys, pouring the liquor back into the bottle with a sly grin, "Alright, mom," He drawls sarcastically, earning an annoyed glare from Bennett. 

An odd sort of comfort settled over him as he watched Bennett prepare tea. The normalcy feels foreign yet intriguing to Shadow, after all, how many times had he wished for moments like these amidst chaos and bloodshed? 

When the drink is ready, Bennett pours them into two cups, adding extra sugar to Shadow's since he knows just how he likes it and sliding it over to him when he sits down in a stool on the other side of the kitchen island with his own glass, "This should help you sleep." 

Shadow wraps his fingers around the warm mug, staring at the sweetened tea, "Maybe I don't want to sleep," He commented vaguely before taking a sip. 

Despite his sarcasm and cocky demeanor, Shadow couldn’t deny that this display of kindness was making him feel something. An unfamiliar warmth spreads within him. It isn't unpleasant but simply new. It's unsettling yet strangely reassuring. He isn't ready to fully let his guard down yet. He had worked too hard to allow himself to become attached to anyone and everyone. 

Bennett furrows his brows in confusion as he prods the other man, "Why not?" 

"Sleep is... Overrated," The former mercenary states, looking his roommate straight in the eye while taking another drink of his tea.  

It's easier to avoid explaining that sleep often felt like a trap, forcing him to relive everything he's been working so hard to forget. He decides then and there not to dwell on it further. This conversation has already ventured too far into personal territory for his liking. Sleep means dreaming. And dreaming means facing his past when he's most vulnerable. He decides he better keep this conversation casual rather than let Bennett see more than he needs to. 

"Oh. Yeah, I know what you mean," Bennett begins, as he looks down, gazing into his mug wistfully, sheepishly admitting, "It's hard being alone." 

"It is?" Shadow asks, trying hard to keep his voice impassive. However, that one statement stirs a turmoil of thought inside him, some he had preferred to avoid. He realizes that he can't remember ever not being alone and the notion of potentially sharing solitude with someone like Bennett was... Complicated to say the least. 

Maybe they were more alike than Shadow cared to admit. 

After a moment of lingering silence, the curly-haired boy looks up from his cup of tea as he asks a question that had been eating at him for some time now, "Hey Shadow, I have to ask... You weren't the one who killed our mom, are you?" 

The question hits Shadow like a physical blow, knocking the breath out of his lungs. For a second, his eyes widen in shock before he manages to compose himself. 

"No." 

It was the honest truth and he feels oddly relieved that Bennett had asked. He takes another sip from his mug as if it could wash away the bitter aftertaste those words left behind. Gyro wouldn't have dared to waste Shadow on such insignificant jobs back then. He wonders why Ren never asked, pondering whether she thinks he did it. He swallows hard at the thought. 

"Yeah, I figured. I was just curious," Bennett seems to believe him, resolving not to delve into the topic any deeper as a deafening silence wraps around them. 

Shadow nods, averting his gaze from Bennett's green eyes. The tension lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. He doesn't know how to respond other than with a simple acknowledgement, "Yeah," He mutters softly. The quiet that follows stretches between them like an unspoken understanding. 

After a pregnant pause, Bennett speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood, "I read your copy of the English version of Pride and Prejudice. It was really good." 

The dark-haired man blinks in surprise, momentarily taken aback. He wasn't expecting Bennett to mention his favorite book, nonetheless, read it. Hell, if it means they can switch from talking about murder contracts to romance novels then fuck it. This might not be such a bad night after all. 

"Yeah?" He asks with a smirk playing on his lips, "Austen knew how to write women. Stubborn and beautiful. Like your sister." 

The comparison is apt. Ren certainly shares some similarities with Austen's heroines, independent, headstrong and alluring enigmatic. 

"Yeah, that explains your obsession with her," Bennett remarks with a teasing grin, "But I really liked it." 

Shadow's smirk widens into a mischievous grin, his eyes glinting with playful defiance, "Obsession? Nah, just an appreciation for someone who knows how to handle a dagger and my heart," He swallows down the rest of the tea in his cup, enjoying the banter and slight shift in atmosphere. 

As Shadow yawns aloud clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, Bennett points out, "You should try and sleep again." 

"As you wish, mother," The former mercenary replies with an impish smirk, before pushing himself up from the stool.  

His body feels heavier than it had when he first entered the kitchen and maybe he could actually fall asleep now. Bidding his roommate goodnight, he retreats back into his room, hoping that this familiar sense of peace would follow him into sleep as well. Maybe that tea had worked after all?  

As soon as his head hit the pillow, he passed out, his body finally relaxing completely. When he wakes up the next day, he feels groggy and out of it. With a groan, he reaches out, swiping his phone off of his bedside table, eyes widening when he reads the time displayed on his home screen. 

2pm. He had slept for ten hours straight. To say he was in shock was an understatement.  

"What the fuck?" Shadow mutters drowsily, rubbing his eyes incredulously. He hasn't slept this long... Well, ever. He slowly sits up in bed, stretching and trying to shake off the remnants of fatigue that stubbornly clings to him.  

Did Bennett's tea have some magic properties or something? He found himself wondering. Or maybe...  

Was he poisoned? 

His maroon eyes darken at the thought. He was given poison resistance training when he was a kid of course, but he couldn't come up with any other explanation for his long slumber. He throws himself out of bed, rushing to the kitchen where he finds Bennett and grabs him by the shoulders. 

"Dammit, Bennett!" Shadow barks suddenly, shaking the other man lightly by the shoulders, "What did you put in that fucking tea?" 

His training had prepared him for a lot of things but getting drugged by an ally was not one of them. He felt betrayed. He hadn't trusted anyone with his food and/or drink for as long as he could remember. Bennett better have a good explanation for him. 

Bennett holds back a chuckle before a full-fledged laugh erupts from his lips, "Calm down, Shadow. I just gave you some Benadryl." 

Shadow scowls, obviously not amused by the situation, "Bena-what? The fuck is that?" He glares at the curly-haired man, annoyed, yet curious at the same time. 

"Shadow, relax," Bennett begins as he reassures him in a calm tone of voice, "It's a medicine for allergies that makes you sleepy. I just added a little bit to your tea." 

"Could've fucking warned me," Shadow grumbles petulantly, releasing his hold on Bennett and crossing his arms over his chest. He feels somewhat relieved knowing it wasn't anything dangerous but he was still pissed about being drugged without a warning. 

Allies messing with his drinks, what's next? Ren smothering him with a pillow in his sleep. That's why he trusted no one. But he had to admit that extra ten hours of sleep felt amazing. 

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry," Bennett concedes before flashing him a sly grin, "But it worked, didn't it?" 

A sigh escapes from Shadows lips as he reluctantly nods his head, begrudgingly admitting, "Yeah, fine it worked." 

He shoots Bennett a death glare, not quite ready to let go of his annoyance yet, but there was also a hint of amusement in his eyes now. Ren's just going to love hearing about this, isn't she? 

"Now you'll have even more energy to be annoying. It's a good thing," Bennett points out as he turns around and returns to what he was doing before Shadow had interrupted him. 

Shadow smirks, rolling his eyes playfully, "Oh, you bet, Benny," He counters casually as he makes his way to get a glass of water.  

He was back in form and feeling unusually refreshed. He decides that he's going to make sure this extra boost comes with its own benefits for his roommate. After all, the more he annoys Bennett, the less likely he'll be to ever think about pulling another stunt like that, though he had to admit that he felt semi-grateful. 

So, this is what normal people feel like? He could get used to this.