#no??? okay. but just keep that in mind lol

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

♡ Chapter nine ♡

Summary: You confront Travis, and with each passing day, you begin to feel more like yourself. The company of your favorite girls fills your days with warmth and laughter. Someone knocks on your door. WC: 12.0k A/N: OKAY. I had planned to post this over the weekend, but I just couldn’t waittt lol and since I didn’t post for two weeks, here’s part 9 as a little gift for you <3 Don't forget to follow me on capuccinodollupdates for updates!

Monday. Your knuckles throbbed as you hammered on the door, the echo reverberating through the hallway. Three times, then another six—or was it seven? You weren’t sure. All you knew was the sharp sting in your hand as you finally dropped it to your side. Your breath remained steady, but you could feel emotion clawing its way through your calm exterior. Your foot betrayed you, shifting restlessly against the wooden floor.

Something had shifted, something you couldn’t quite place. You’d spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, your mind racing while the hours stretched endlessly. By the time your alarm screamed to life in the morning, you felt more wired than exhausted, like your restlessness had seeped into your bones. At work, nothing held your focus. The papers on your desk blurred together, the words losing their meaning as your thoughts wandered elsewhere. You checked the clock obsessively, willing the minutes to pass, but even when the day finally crawled to an end, the unease clung to you.  

What the hell was going on with Joel? His behavior had been erratic, disjointed—like he was holding something back. Every glance, every word from him felt layered, deliberate, but never enough to give you clarity. It was maddening, the sense that there was a piece of the puzzle you hadn’t been given, something vital he wasn’t saying. 

“Ask him,” he had said yesterday, brushing you off with a cryptic shrug. But you weren’t someone who could just let things go.

Now, the door creaked open, and there stood Travis, his expression a mix of curiosity and something softer, almost tentative. His damp hair clung to his forehead, droplets still glistening at the edges. He looked freshly showered, the scent of soap faintly wafting in the cool air between you. His gray T-shirt was inside out, the seams and tag clearly visible, as if he’d thrown it on without much thought. He wore dark blue sweatpants that hung loose around his hips and no socks or shoes, his bare feet planted firmly on the hardwood floor.

He blinked at you, his eyebrows knitting together when he caught sight of your face.

“Hey,” he said, your name falling from his lips with a question mark at the end. “Are you okay?” His voice held genuine concern as his eyes flickered over your face, trying to decode your expression.

Your mouth felt dry, your throat tight. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile or reassure him. Instead, you stood frozen, your arms wrapped around yourself as if bracing against an invisible wind.

“Did something happen?” he asked again, stepping slightly closer. He tilted his head, his gaze searching. “Come inside. It’s freezing out here.”

But you didn’t move. Your feet were rooted to the ground, defying his invitation.

“What happened between you and Joel?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt inside. 

He paused, the question clearly taking him off guard. “What?”

“You talked to Joel, didn’t you?” You tightened your arms around yourself, your tone low and deliberate, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I know you did. He told me.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Joel hadn’t told you much of anything, just enough to leave you spinning. Blurry fragments of his words had lodged themselves in your mind, their edges sharp enough to cut. Still, you had pieced together enough to confront Travis now.

Travis’s eyes narrowed slightly, his body shifting against the doorway.

“What exactly did he tell you?” he asked, his voice cautious but far from confused. He wasn’t lost—he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“Enough,” you replied, your voice hardening despite yourself. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface was beginning to bubble over. “Don’t play dumb, Travis. What did you say to him?”

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. His lips pressed together, his jaw tight. Then he exhaled through his nose, glancing briefly at the floor before meeting your gaze again.

“Look, I… I talked to him, okay? He... we had a conversation.”

“What kind of conversation?” you pressed, taking a small step forward. “Why would he tell me to ask you if nothing happened? What did you say to him?”

Travis leaned against the doorframe, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to work through the tension there.

"He showed up late Saturday night,” he admitted, his voice softer now, carryin’ a hint of regret. “While you were sleepin’, I answered the door. Didn’t wanna wake you."

Your stomach twisted at his words. You could picture it too vividly—Joel standing on the other side of the door, his face shadowed by some unspoken emotion. You swallowed hard, pushing the image away.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to talk to you,” Travis said simply, though the hesitation in his voice suggested there was more to the story.

“And?” You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing. “What did you tell him, Travis?”

"I told him you needed some space,” he said, the words spillin’ out in a hurry. “That you didn’t wanna see him.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “That’s it? You expect me to believe that’s all you said?”

Travis’s gaze faltered for a fraction of a second. He straightened slightly, squaring his shoulders.

“I might have… implied some things,” he admitted reluctantly. 

“Implied what?” Your voice was sharper now, your frustration cracking through. “What the hell did you say to him, Travis?”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I told him you were movin’ on,” he said at last, his tone a bit defensive. “That you and me… that we spent the night... you know, uh—”

A sharp laugh escaped you, though there was nothing humorous about it.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head. “So you lied to him? Why? To hurt him? To make yourself feel better?”

“’Cause he deserves it!” Travis snapped, his voice risin’. “After the way he’s treated you, the way he’s acted… He don’t get to just waltz back into your life like nothin’ happened. Someone needed to put him in his place.”

You took a step back, your arms dropping to your sides.

“And you thought that someone should be you?” you asked, your voice cold. “Do you even realize what you’ve done? This isn’t your fight, Travis. It never was.”

“Why do you care so much about what that prick thinks?” Travis’s voice was tight, each word laced with frustration. “Why does it matter if he thinks somethin' happened between us? We’ve been dating for weeks, haven’t we?”

“Because even if something had happened, it would be nobody else’s business,” you shot back, your voice trembling, though whether from anger or disbelief, you weren’t sure. “You had no right to talk about us behind my back, Travis, to talk about me that way. That’s a line you don’t cross. If there’s anything between us—anything at all—it stays between us. That’s how respect works. But you… you just threw it out there like it was some weapon to hurt him.”

“Respect?” Travis repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “Joel don’t respect me, so why should I give it to him?”  

"I know, you’re right," you said, your voice steady but firm. "I know Joel’s been awful to you from the start, but that's not the point!” you snapped, takin’ a step closer. “Why’d you even say it, Travis? To piss him up? To win some kind of imaginary contest? What exactly did you think you’d accomplish?”

His face darkened, the accusation hitting a nerve. “You’re really asking me that?” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Why the fuck did you agree to go out with me, anyway? I think we both know it’s not me you want to be with.”

The words hung in the air like a sudden drop in temperature. You felt your breath catch, your pulse roaring in your ears.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you demanded, but your voice lacked the sharpness you’d intended.

“It means you never stopped wantin' him,” Travis said bluntly, his jaw set. “You say you like me—liked me—but let’s be honest. That’s not enough, is it? You’re still hung up on Joel, no matter how much you try to pretend otherwise.”

“I liked you because I thought you were decent,” you countered, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “Because I thought you wouldn’t pull shit like this.”

“Decent,” he repeated bitterly, the word dripping with sarcasm. “That’s what you look for in someone? Decency?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Guess that explains why Joel’s still got a hold on you.”

“Don’t turn this around on me, Travis,” you warned, your tone icy. “This isn’t about Joel. This is about you, and the fact that you dragged me into your petty grudge match with him. You told him we slept together to hurt him, didn’t you? That’s all this was to you. Some sick way of proving a point.”

“Maybe I did,” he admitted after a long pause, his voice defiant, though his eyes gave away the guilt behind his words. “Maybe I wanted to see him squirm for once. God knows he deserved it. And truth be told, I sure did enjoy watchin’ him die a little inside.”

“Deserved it?” You laughed sharply, shaking your head in disbelief. “At my expense? You really enjoyed pissing him off, didn’t you? You thought it was worth it to drag me into the middle of your shit, just so you could watch him lose it.”

“I wasn’t trying to drag you into anything,” Travis argued, though his tone lacked conviction. “I was protecting you. Standing up for you. Again, Joel doesn’t get to just walk back into your life after everything he’s done and act like nothing happened.”

“Protecting me?” you repeated, incredulous. “You think lying to him about us is protecting me? If you wanted to protect me, you would have stayed out of it completely.”

“I didn’t lie,” he shot back, his voice rising again. “Not really.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you said, throwing your hands up. “Don’t try to split hairs with me, Travis. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it had nothing to do with me. This was all about you and your bullshit rivalry with Joel. What’s next? Are you going to pull out a ruler and measure dicks with him? Honestly, If you’d just punched him square in the face, it would’ve been far more decent.”

Travis’s face fell, the anger draining from his expression in an instant. Guilt settled in its place, heavy and unmistakable. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, the silence between you thick and suffocating.

You took a step back, your arms crossing over your chest again. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” you said quietly. “I thought I could trust you. I thought you were better than this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I screwed up. I was angry, and I let it get the best of me. I didn’t mean to—”

You let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of his words press against the knot already forming in your stomach. You shook your head, trying to hold onto the edges of your resolve.

“You had no right to meddle in my business with Joel,” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor. The words felt sharp, final, as though speaking them aloud might make them easier to believe.

When you looked up, his eyes were on you, calmer now but no less intense. The familiar shade of blue in them seemed darker, clouded with something unspoken. He stood there, silent, watching you like he was waiting for something—permission, maybe, or understanding.

“I know everything with him is… difficult,” you continued, your voice quieter now, tinged with something softer. “And I know it’s been unfair. But it’s between him and me. It always has been.”

Travis sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He pushed himself off the doorframe and took a step forward, then stopped, his hands hovering awkwardly by his sides. His lips curved into a faint, bitter smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t get why you even agreed to go out with me in the first place. Why drag me into all this? You could’ve just spared me the trouble, saved me from wastin’ my time, from wastin’ energy on somethin’ I was never gonna win.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, cutting through your carefully constructed armor. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your voice softer now, though still firm.

“Why would you need to win anything, Travis? This isn’t a competition. It never was.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice cold, though the hurt behind it was unmistakable. He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “Doesn’t feel that way.”

You took a step closer, trying to close the gap—not just the physical space between you, but something deeper.

“I liked you, Travis,” you said, your words deliberate, each one carefully chosen. “I’ve always liked you. Don’t doubt that for a second. And don’t think I used you. That’s not what this was.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his lips pressed tightly together, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he nodded, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer now. The words carried something heavier than before, as though he’d just realized how little they could do to fix this.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening.

“Me too,” you admitted. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air between you, thick and oppressive. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you didn’t matter. Or like you were… caught in the middle of something you never signed up for. That was never my intention.”

“But?” he prompted, his voice quiet but firm, like he already knew what was coming.

You smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. Only sadness.

“But this is as far as it goes,” you said, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “And it needs to stop here. For both of us.”

Travis nodded slowly, his lips pulling into a thin, resigned line.

“You’re right,” he said, his voice barely audible. He looked at you, his eyes heavy with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe, or acceptance.

You didn’t say anything else. There was nothing left to say. Instead, you turned and walked away, your footsteps soft but deliberate. You felt his gaze linger on you as you left, heard him murmur another apology under his breath, though it did little to dull the raw discomfort still settling over you.

The walk home felt interminable. Each step dragged, your feet moved mechanically while your mind spun, heavy with the weight of what had just happened. The crisp air bit at your cheeks, and the faint hum of distant traffic filled the silence you carried. When you finally reached your home, you shut the door behind you with a soft click, leaning against it longer than you should have. The quiet of your home surrounded you, thick and expectant, as if it had been waiting for you to process everything.

You shrugged off your coat and kicked off your shoes, leaving them in a messy pile near the door. Your fingers paused on the hem of your sweater as you headed to the bathroom. The mirror caught your reflection, and you froze. You were startled by how tired you looked—your hair tousled from the wind, shadows ringing your eyes. You didn’t feel like yourself, and seeing that weariness staring back at you was jarring.

The shower’s hot spray offered a small reprieve. You stood under it longer than you probably should have, letting the water drum against your skin and the steam fill the room until it was hard to breathe. You tried to think, to pin your feelings down, but everything slipped away, as if you were trying to hold water in your hands. Anger at Travis still simmered under your skin, but there was something else, quieter and harder to name—a gnawing mix of pain and confusion.

When you finally stepped out, your skin was pink from the heat, your hair damp and sticking to your neck. You wrapped yourself in your thickest robe and walked barefoot into the kitchen. The house felt colder now, the chill seeping through the floor and nipping at your ankles. You filled the kettle and set it to boil. The small ritual of making tea steadied you. The soft whistle of steam was oddly soothing, a thread of normalcy in the chaos of your thoughts.

Back in your bedroom, you sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping your hands around the mug as if its warmth could sink into your chest. You sipped slowly, your eyes locked on a spot on the wall you weren’t really seeing. Travis’s words played on repeat in your head, each one sharp and heavy, making your chest ache. But then your thoughts drifted to Joel—his voice, his face, the way he lingered in your mind even when he wasn’t there. You tried to untangle your feelings, to make sense of them, but everything was a mess. You felt stuck, suspended between anger, regret, and an ache you didn’t want to name.

By the time your tea had cooled, you set the mug on the nightstand and crawled under the covers. You curled into yourself, as if trying to protect your body from the storm inside your mind. Sleep came in fits and starts, your dreams restless and fragmented.

When you woke, pale winter light filtered through the curtains, and the clock on your phone read 5:00 p.m. The realization sat heavy in your stomach, though you weren’t entirely sure why.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, as a decision started to take shape. You needed to talk to Joel. You needed answers—clarity—something to cut through the fog that had settled over you. The thought filled you with both dread and determination, but you knew it was the only way forward. Avoiding this had only left you feeling more tangled.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you headed into the kitchen. The quiet of the house felt like both a comfort and a weight pressing down on you. You grabbed a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you tried to gather the resolve for the conversation you had been putting off. After a few seconds, you forced yourself to stop thinking about it.

Then, after pacing your home for what felt like hours, the walls pressing in closer with every loop around the living room, you decided you needed air. Staying inside had begun to feel suffocating.

You didn’t have a plan when you left, not really. The streetlights buzzed faintly in the cool dusk, casting a yellow haze on the cracked pavement. The air had that sharp, metallic chill of autumn, biting at your cheeks and pinching your nose. You pulled your scarf tighter as you walked, hands buried deep in your pockets, letting your feet lead without much thought.  

Eventually, you found yourself standing in front of the small, unassuming cinema tucked between a bookstore and a closed bakery. The marquee flickered with a mix of indie titles and old classics. You chose something without paying too much attention, just handed over your card and took the ticket without caring about the plot or reviews. It wasn’t about the movie, really—it was about the act of sitting in the dark, of letting someone else’s story take up the space in your head that Joel’s had been occupying for too long. 

The air inside was warm and thick with the scent of buttered popcorn, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. With your snacks in hand—popcorn and chocolate, the perfect blend of sweet and salty—you found a seat near the back, where the dim glow of the screen felt like a shield from the outside world.

The movie began: 16 Candles. Molly Ringwald appeared, her face falling as her family forgot her birthday. You watched, though your focus wavered, the story blurring into the film’s grainy texture. For long stretches, you weren’t even sure what was happening, your mind slipping in and out of the narrative.

But none of that mattered. For those few moments, tucked away in the darkness, you weren’t thinking about him. And that was enough.

When the credits rolled, you stayed seated for a moment longer, watching the names scroll by in white letters against the black screen. There was something soothing about the rhythm of it, the anonymity of all those people who had come together to create something for strangers to sit and lose themselves in. Finally, you stood, stretching your legs as you shuffled out into the night.

Your stomach growled as you stepped onto the street, and you realized you hadn’t eaten since lunch. Without much deliberation, you turned toward your favorite restaurant, the one you always went to when you craved a little indulgence or comfort. It wasn’t far—just a few blocks away—and the walk, though cold, felt like a balm. The restaurant’s warm light spilled onto the sidewalk, a beacon against the deepening dark.  

Inside, you slid into a familiar booth by the window, the worn leather cushioning a kind of second skin to your movements. The server greeted you by name, smiling as they handed you a menu, though you barely glanced at it before ordering your usual. The predictability of it felt steadying, a ritual that didn’t demand any extra thought.  

As you waited, you let your eyes wander. The restaurant was only half-full, a quiet hum of conversation blending with the clink of silverware against plates. You imagined snippets of lives that weren’t yours—a couple arguing softly over shared appetizers, a man engrossed in his phone, a table of friends laughing too loudly. You didn’t envy or resent any of it.  

When your food arrived, the first bite was a revelation, reminding you just how hungry you were. You ate slowly, savoring every forkful, letting the warmth spread through you like a kind of healing. You didn’t check your phone once, didn’t let your thoughts circle back to Joel or any of the messy, unresolved tangles waiting for you at home. Instead, you let yourself exist in this small, fleeting moment of peace.  

By the time you left, your body felt heavy with contentment, your mind quieter than it had been in days. The streets were quieter now, too, the city winding down into its nighttime lull. You took the long way home, the cold air stinging your cheeks but waking you up in a way that felt good. And for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt good.

That night, you slept like a baby.

*

Tuesday. The afternoon found you typing away at your laptop, the steady rhythm of keys filling the otherwise quiet living room. The soft knock at the door startled you out of your focus. You paused, turning your head toward the sound, squinting as if that might help you see through walls.

Resting your palms on the table, you pushed yourself up and walked to the door, curiosity flickering. Who could it be? You weren’t expecting anyone. When you opened it, a warm smile tugged at your lips before you even realized it.

“Hi,” Sarah greeted, her usual brightness dimmed slightly by a rare shyness. She stood there, clutching a paper bag against her chest, the faint rustling hinting at its contents. “I was home alone and thought… I don’t know, maybe I could come over? Hang out for a bit? They just put 13 Going on 30 back on Netflix, and I thought we could watch it. I brought snacks.” She lifted the bag slightly, a hopeful grin spreading across her face. "Just if you can, obviously."

You tilted your head, stepping aside to let her in. “Of course. That sounds perfect.”

She walked in, brushing past you with an air of quiet confidence, though her smile betrayed how pleased she was.

As she made her way to the kitchen, you asked, “Does your dad know you’re here?”

“He’s working,” Sarah replied casually, already unloading her treasures onto the counter. “I left him a note. He won’t mind.”

You followed her, leaning against the counter as she spread out an array of treats: chocolates, chips, two popcorn bags, Doritos, and a generous stash of her favorite sour gummies. She seemed so at ease in your space, like it was as much hers as it was yours.

“Wow,” you remarked, surveying the haul with mock astonishment. “This is a feast.”

Sarah grinned, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I brought everything.” She paused, holding up a bag of popcorn. “You can’t watch 13 Going on 30 without chocolate, right?”

“Absolutely not,” you agreed, reaching for the bag to help her. As you moved around the kitchen together, the air between you felt light, easy. She chattered about her day, slipping seamlessly between topics, while you found yourself laughing at her sharp, funny observations.

By the time the snacks were ready, the living room was glowing softly in the dim light of the TV. Sarah settled onto the couch, pulling a blanket over her legs, and patted the spot next to her. You joined her, the warmth of her presence a quiet comfort.

As the opening credits rolled, she glanced at you, her expression serious for a moment. “Thanks for letting me come over. I just… I didn’t feel like being alone today.”

A sharp pang settled in your chest at her words. You realized just how much you’d missed her these past few weeks. The two of you hadn’t spent much time together lately, and the thought of Sarah passing her afternoons alone tugged at you in a way you couldn’t ignore. 

You remembered how it used to be. How she’d spend hours with you while Joel was at work, her chatter filling the silences in the house, her presence a comfort you’d come to treasure. You loved those afternoons—the way she’d casually sprawl on your couch, teasing you about your tea obsession or insisting on picking the music. But then, gradually, the visits stopped. She probably sensed something was wrong between you and her dad. Sarah was perceptive like that. Too perceptive.

It killed you to think she felt caught in the middle of something she didn’t fully understand. And because of that, you hadn’t pushed her to come back. You didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable or burdened.

You met her gaze, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re always welcome here, honey. Always. I've missed you a lot.”

Sarah’s expression softened, but she hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the candy bar in her hand. “I missed you too,” she admitted quietly, her voice almost tentative, as if she were afraid of saying it out loud. “I wasn’t sure if… you know, if things were okay.”

“Of course they are,” you said quickly, stepping closer and resting a gentle hand on her arm. “With me and you? They’re always okay. I hope you know that.”

She looked up at you, her lips curving into a faint smile, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered in her eyes. “It’s just… I didn’t want to bother you, especially with everything going on. Dad doesn’t say much, but I can tell something’s been… weird.”

Your heart squeezed at her honesty, and you took a steadying breath.

“Things have been complicated,” you admitted, choosing your words carefully. “But none of it changes how much I care about you. You mean so much to me, and I’m glad you’re here, really.”

Her smile grew a little wider, the vulnerability giving way to a familiar brightness. “Okay,” she said softly. Then, almost teasingly, she added, “You’re stuck with me tonight, by the way. I brought enough snacks for a sleepover, just sayin'.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy, as if a weight had lifted from the room. “Good. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

The movie played on, its quick-witted humor keeping the two of you entertained. You couldn't count the number of times you'd seen it, though you'd guess it was well into double digits. One of your favorite comedies, it had been an instant hit with Sarah when you'd introduced her to it on a lazy Saturday morning. Since then, she'd occasionally tug at your sleeve, asking for another watch, usually with the promise of snacks you both knew you'd overdo.

As the credits rolled, you noticed the remnants of your indulgence: a half-eaten chocolate bar in your hand and Sarah carefully organizing the bag of sour gummies on the coffee table. She tucked the gummies away with an air of exaggerated responsibility, declaring it a strategic move to ensure there were enough left for another movie night soon.

Feeling the sugar settle uncomfortably in your stomach, you pushed off the couch, announcing, “I need water. Want some?”

Sarah stretched, her arms flopping dramatically onto the cushions. “Yeah, please. But a small glass. I don’t want to explode.”

The kitchen light felt sharp after the dim glow of the TV. You grabbed two glasses, filling one as Sarah called your name from the other room. Her tone was curious, a little tentative. Before you could answer, you heard her feet padding toward you. She appeared in the doorway, her hands fluttering slightly as though brushing off invisible crumbs from her shirt.

“Can I really sleep over?” she asked, stepping closer.

You handed her the glass of water. She accepted it but didn’t drink, her bright, questioning gaze fixed on you.

“Of course,” you said, leaning back against the counter. “But your dad has to be okay with it. Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

She shrugged one shoulder, sipping the water. “Yeah, but I’ve done it before. He won’t care.”

“Well,” you said, tilting your head, “you should still ask him.”

She tilted her head right back at you, mirroring your expression. “Why don’t you ask him? You’re the adult.”

You almost laughed at her logic. “If he’s at work, I doubt he’ll answer a call. Just text him.”

Sarah shook her head decisively, the same way she did when you suggested vegetables for dinner. “He hates texts. Besides, I don’t have my phone with me. And anyway,” she added, spinning on her heel toward the bathroom, “you’re the one who’ll need to explain it if he says no.”

Her retreat left you holding your glass of water, staring at the space where she'd stood. You glanced at the clock on the wall: just after six. Joel would probably be home soon. You could wait and let her handle it, or maybe save yourself the hassle and send him a quick text yourself.

From the bathroom, Sarah's voice floated out. “Hey! Don’t forget to ask, okay? But, like, be convincing. Say we’ve had so much fun.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, half-laughing, Sarah’s earlier comment still replaying in your mind.

The kitchen was dim, and your eyes rested on a blank patch of wall, thoughts moving like syrup. Dinner. You needed to decide. Pasta sounded good—something carb-heavy, comforting. Maybe that spaghetti recipe you loved but hadn’t made in ages.

The refrigerator door creaked open, releasing a blast of cool air that brushed your face as you leaned in. You scanned the cluttered shelves, the faint hum of the appliance the only sound filling the quiet kitchen. Your fingers absently scratched your cheek as your eyes drifted over jars, old takeout containers, and a tangle of half-used bags of ingredients. 

A bottle of soy sauce caught your attention, slumped in the door shelf, its label peeling at the edges. You stared at it for a moment, trying to recall when you’d last used it. Christmas before last? Maybe even earlier. It looked so out of place now, like a forgotten relic from some half-hearted attempt at cooking you'd long since moved on from. Had it really lasted this long? You wondered if it was still good.

You were still debating dinner options when Sarah returned, her footsteps soft against the tile. She was drying damp hands on her jeans, smearing faint water trails on the dark fabric. Sliding onto the stool at the kitchen island, she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands.

“So?” she asked, her tone equal parts casual and sharp. “What did he say?”

“Huh?” You straightened, caught off guard.

“You called him, right?”

“I... no, I didn’t.”

Her brows lifted slightly, the edges of a smirk tugging at her lips. But when you didn’t follow up, her amusement faded. A shadow of something more serious crossed her face.

“I knew it,” she said flatly, her voice quieter now.

“Wh—”

“I knew something was wrong with you,” she interrupted, her words deliberate. “But no one ever tells me anything.” Her face scrunched into a frown, the kind that tugged at your chest because it was so distinctly hers—and so distinctly Miller.

“No, honey,” you said softly, stepping closer and leaning your elbows on the counter. Now at her eye level, you tried to hold her gaze. “It’s not that simple. What’s been going on between your dad and me... it’s just complicated.”

Her frown deepened, her lips pressing into a hard line. “It’s always complicated. That’s what you grown-ups say when you don’t want to explain anythin'.”

You sighed, your nerves making your voice tight. “It’s something between adults.”

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms in a way that made her look older than twelve. “Yeah, but you got involved, didn’t you? And now it’s all weird.”

The directness of her words landed like a jab, though there wasn’t anger in her tone—just sharp observation. She had that way of cutting through pretenses, seeing things for what they were, or at least how they felt to her.

“I heard you guys the other day,” Sarah said, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.  

Her words sent a cold rush up your spine, landing squarely at the nape of your neck. You froze, unsure of how to react.  

“Sunday,” she clarified, her tone even but pointed. “When you came to my house. I heard you. I was on the stairs, and my dad didn’t notice. Neither did you.”  

Your mouth felt dry. “What... what did you hear?” The question came out faster than you intended, betraying your nerves.  

Her eyes, sharp and unblinking, stayed fixed on you.

“I heard my dad,” she began, carefully measuring each word. “He was saying a lot of... angry stuff. About Travis. About you. Accusing you of—of going off with him.” She paused, hesitating before adding, “And he said you told him you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore. He sounded hurt.”  

The mention of it made your stomach twist, and your eyebrows gave away your unease before you could school your expression.  

“Did you?” she asked, her face an uneasy mix of curiosity and sadness.  

You took a breath, looking at her and realizing there was no point in lying.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly.  

“Why?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory, just earnest, like she truly wanted to understand. “What did he do to you?”  

You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure how to condense the mess of emotions into something a twelve-year-old could grasp without oversharing. The words churned in your head, bumping into each other, refusing to settle.  

“We argued,” you said eventually, each word feeling like a step on unstable ground. “And your dad said some things. Mean things. And... I said some things too. We hurt each other.” You paused, swallowing hard. “But it hurt me a lot. Too much. And I told him that.”

Sarah studied your face for a long moment, her expression softening into something thoughtful.

In a quieter voice, she asked, “Was it because you guys like each other?”  

The question caught you off guard, and a laugh bubbled up despite yourself—a small, surprised sound that you tried to stifle.  

“Something like that,” you said, glancing at her with a faint smile.  

She mirrored it, her lips curving up in a way that felt both hopeful and uncertain.  

You exhaled, your gaze dropping to the counter.

“We’ve been friends for so long, and... it’s complicated when something else happens. Or even when you think something else might happen.” You paused, trying to find the right words. “There’s a lot to figure out. A lot to fix, I think.”  

Sarah nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful, as if she were piecing together a puzzle. Then she scratched the back of her neck in a way that was both casual and deliberate, like she was working up to something.

“He’s been downright unbearable lately,” she said, her tone more matter-of-fact than annoyed. “In a bad mood most the time. And when he’s in a good mood, it’s like... I dunno, feels kinda fake or somethin’. Not real convincing.” She shot you a glance, her face lit up with that mix of mischief and sincerity. “Usually, I like teasin’ him—it’s fun. But lately, I just... I dunno, I can’t bring myself to do it. He looks so bad. I feel sorry for him.”

Your eyebrows lifted, and you tried to hide your amusement at how bluntly she was painting Joel’s misery. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance under her scrutiny.

“Well, that’s probably for the best,” you said, smiling as you reached out to rest a hand over hers. “Don’t bother him too much. Go easy on him, okay?”

“Yeah, I guess,” she muttered, her fingers tapping lightly against the counter. Then her gaze lifted to yours, her bright eyes sharp and curious. “But it all kind of makes sense now.”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I knew something was wrong right after his birthday,” she explained, her voice gaining momentum. “He wouldn’t tell me anything when I asked, though. So I tried Tommy. But he wouldn’t tell me anything either. He said Dad wouldn’t want him to.” She paused, looking almost shy now. “And I didn’t want to ask you. I thought you might get mad.”

“That could never happen,” you assured her gently.

She nodded, but there was still a flicker of hesitation on her face. “It’s just... it was obvious something was up. I dunno, you guys never fight. At least not like that. So I figured it had to be something big. Something... weirder.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment before she continued, her voice lighter now, like she was sharing a secret.

“Then I went to Irina’s house and told her about it. She said it was obvious—it had to be because you were in love, like in Love, Rosie.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. The thought of Sarah sitting with her friend, dissecting your tangled mess of emotions, was almost too much to process. The tenderness you felt was quickly overtaken by guilt for dragging her into something so complicated.

“I hadn’t seen the movie, though,” Sarah added quickly, shrugging like that detail was crucial to the story. “So we watched it that afternoon. Dude, I think she’s right.”

Her tone shifted, turning serious but hopeful, her eyes sparkling with a kind of naive certainty. “You have to leave Travis.”

Her sudden declaration caught you completely off guard, and a laugh burst out of you before you could stop it.

“Sarah!” you said, still laughing, covering your mouth as you tried to collect yourself.

She grinned, looking more pleased than embarrassed. “What? I’m just saying what everyone else is probably thinking.”

You shook your head, still laughing, and reached over to ruffle her hair. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

Sarah ducked away from your hand, smoothing her hair with exaggerated care, as if the ruffle had ruined her carefully curated look.  

“Yeah, I know,” she said with a little shrug, her tone light but pointed. Then she glanced up at you, her eyes sharp. “So, are you gonna leave him? I mean, I’m pretty sure Dad would be thrilled.”  

“Oh my God,” you gasped, caught between surprise and laughter. 

She didn’t miss a beat. “He’s the obstacle, isn’t he?” she said, gesturing broadly with one hand, as if the answer were painfully obvious. “And you love my dad. It’s simple.”  

“Uh—I... I think this is a bit too much to unpack,” you stammered, feeling the heat creep up your neck.  

“Why?” she asked, her face falling slightly into an expression of disappointment. “What’s wrong with it? I already know everythin'. I’m not stupid. I’m not a baby.”  

“It’s not that,” you said quickly, softening your tone. “It’s just... there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know, and it’s complicated.” You shifted uncomfortably, trying to find the right words. “Look, I’m not dating Travis. Not anymore. But even so, I thought your dad was dating Sienna.”  

“Sienna?” Sarah repeated, tilting her head in confusion. “You mean the one from the bank?”  

“Yeah,” you said, nodding.  

Sarah snorted, like the idea itself was absurd. “Dad’s not dating Sienna. I overheard him and Tommy talkin' about it, like, a month ago.”  

“You love spying on your dad, don’t you?” you teased, glancing at her with raised eyebrows.  

“I wouldn’t have to spy if everyone didn’t keep secrets from me,” she shot back, mimicking your tone with a smirk. Then she added, “Forget about Sienna. He stopped seein' her right after his birthday.”  

“Oh, really?” you said, arching an eyebrow.  

“Yup,” she said, leaning forward, her expression turning mischievous. “Oh, what a coincidence, right? Right after your fight.” She reached out to poke your hand, a playful glint in her eye.  

You froze for a second, smiling faintly, but your mind was racing. Joel had stopped seeing Sienna? Over a month ago? Why hadn’t he said anything? He’d had plenty of chances to mention it, plenty of openings to set things straight. But he hadn’t.  

“Well,” you said finally, straightening up and brushing the thought aside. “It’s his life. And you,” you added, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “have nothing to do with this. Got it? You and me, we're okay. Always.”  

“Okay, okay,” Sarah said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. She raised her glass to her lips, pausing before she added, “But you have to let him know I’m staying over. Now.”  

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But I’m texting him, not calling him.”  

Sarah rolled her eyes dramatically, like you’d just suggested the most tedious thing imaginable.

“Okay,” she said, drawing the word out. “Apparently, we’re doing this one step at a time.”  

You smiled despite yourself, turning to open one of the wooden cabinets on the wall.

“One step at a time sounds about right,” you said, more to yourself than to her.

“What do you wanna eat?” you asked, your voice carrying lightly across the kitchen as you moved to open the fridge.

Sarah leaned against the counter, considering. “Anything but those frozen pizzas. You always burn the edges.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That happened one time.”

“More than once,” she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” you conceded. “How about spaghetti?”

Her face brightened instantly, a flicker of excitement breaking through her otherwise composed demeanor.

“Yes! And I’ll help, right? You look like you might need it.”  

You gasped in mock offense, reaching for a pot. “Excuse me, what’s that supposed to mean?”  

She shrugged, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It was settled. You gathered ingredients while Sarah volunteered herself as sous-chef, which meant chopping the vegetables in the most chaotic but enthusiastic way possible. You handed her a knife with explicit instructions to please be careful.

“You sound like my dad,” she teased, carefully slicing a bell pepper.

You turned to the speaker on the counter, deciding that cooking deserved a soundtrack. Soon, music filled the small space, bright and upbeat, shifting the energy in the room. Sarah hummed along while you stirred the pot.

When she seemed distracted, her focus entirely on the bell pepper, you slipped out of the kitchen and grabbed your phone from the coffee table in the living room. Unlocking it, you scrolled through your messages until you found Joel’s name.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, the words forming and dissolving in your mind. You didn’t want it to sound too formal or hesitant. Just normal. Neutral.

Finally, you typed:

Hi Joel. Sarah’s here, spending the afternoon. She wants to know if it’s okay with you if she stays over. Let me know.

Short. Concise. Clear.

You hit send and placed the phone back on the counter when you returned to the kitchen.

“All done,” you said, gesturing toward your phone with a tilt of your head.

Sarah glanced up, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. She gave a small nod before turning back to her chopping.

Minutes passed, filled with the clatter of knives and the soft simmering of the sauce. You reached for your phone to change the song—Sarah had requested something from her playlist, Just like heaven by The Cure—and just as you did, it vibrated in your hand.

A message popped up at the top of the screen:

Joel. Tell her I said yes, but I want her home early. She’s got school tomorrow.

You turned the phone toward Sarah so she could read it. She gave a mock salute, grinning. “Thumbs up for Dad,” she said, returning to her vegetables.

“Baby steps,” she added after a moment, a little quieter, her back turned to you.

The words hung in the air. You watched her for a beat, the ease of her movements, the way she navigated the kitchen like she belonged there. Something about the moment felt fleeting and important, though you couldn’t quite pin down why.

*

Wednesday. You glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall as you took your first sip of coffee, the warmth of the mug seeping into your cold fingers. 6:32 a.m. The early light was still soft, casting a pale glow through the window where you’d cracked it open just a few centimeters. The cool morning air was refreshing, carrying with it the earthy scent of dew and dawn. It was one of those little rituals you cherished—the quiet, the crispness of the day unfolding just for you.

Sarah was sitting on the stool at the kitchen island, her eyes still half-closed in that sleepy haze. She rubbed them with her left hand, the fingers of her right curled around a steaming cup of tea. The warmth of the tea contrasted with the chill in the room, and she looked small and vulnerable in that quiet moment, as if she hadn’t quite yet fully woken.

You moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, still wearing your pajamas under a soft, worn robe. You set a plate in front of her, the familiar breakfast she loved—toast, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and strawberries, their juicy red flesh cut into generous chunks. She didn’t even need to ask; you knew she’d devour them, just like when she was little. Joel had always been the one to pile up bowls of fruit for her, and she’d always gobbled them down, leaving a trail of sticky fingers and bits of fruit on the house’s surfaces. He used to scold her lightly, but it was always with that soft tone of affection, as if he couldn’t help but love the chaos she brought. Her favorites had always been strawberries and grapes—nothing else really compared.

Sarah took a bite of bacon, chewing contentedly, and looked up at you, her expression curious despite her full mouth.

“When do we watch another movie?” she asked, the question spilling out before she’d even swallowed.

“What movie do you wanna see?” you asked, keeping the conversation light.

“I dunno, one I haven’t seen,” she replied with a shrug, her eyes flickering to her fork. “A love one, or a horror one.”

You chuckled and nodded. It seemed like Sarah’s movie preferences had always swung between the extremes—either something heart-wrenchingly romantic or something terrifying enough to make her jump. You could see the appeal in both, honestly.

You’d gone to bed early last night, after a quiet dinner. Sarah had somehow managed to wriggle her way into your bed before you even realized it, and when you’d turned off the light and whispered goodnight, she hadn’t been quiet for long. She’d started in, talking about everything on her mind. The dramas at school. The boy Irina liked. A teacher she hated, mostly because she was rude and had bad breath. Her upcoming science project, which she was convinced was going to be her masterpiece. And then came the questions—questions you knew had been lingering in her mind all evening.

“Since when do you like my dad?” was one of the first ones, and you froze, unsure of how to respond. If you were being honest, the answer was probably “since forever,” but that didn’t seem like something you could just say to a twelve-year-old.

“How do you know if you like a friend?” she had asked next. “Do you wanna get married, anyway?” and “Does anyone else know about this?” The questions had kept coming, innocent yet sharp, until your tired eyes could barely stay open. You had asked her, gently, to go to sleep. She’d needed to get up early too, after all.

Now, Sarah was hugging you tightly at the door as she left, her face still warm with sleepiness. School started in an hour, and you knew Joel was waiting for her next door, probably with a mug of coffee in hand, ready to help her get through the morning rush.

After she left, you went back upstairs to your room and found yourself standing in front of your closet longer than usual, picking out what to wear. You couldn't really explain it, but something about spending time with Sarah had recharged you. The normalcy of it—her chatter, the comfort of your shared space—it gave you a sense of balance.

Then, as you stood there with your clothes half-chosen, a thought popped into your head, and a smile tugged at your lips. It was perfect—next movie night, you’d introduce Sarah to Twilight. The whole saga. You were sure she’d love it. She adored stories like that, all angsty romance and supernatural drama.

With that thought, you finished getting ready and went off to work, feeling lighter, more cheerful. It was one of those mornings that made the whole day seem a little bit brighter. You were sure it would fly by.

*

Thursday. It was quiet, one of those days that seemed to pass without making much noise but still felt like it had been worthwhile. The morning was calm, and there was something almost comforting about the gentle rhythm of the hours.

At work, you moved through the usual tasks, keeping busy without feeling overwhelmed. You found yourself drifting in and out of conversations, but one particular subject caught your attention: the interns gossiping in the break room. They were whispering about one of the assistants, the one who’d caused a scene in the kitchen last time with a very public meltdown over a misdelivered order. You overheard snippets of their conversation as you nibbled on your sandwich, hearing that the assistant was apparently having an affair with her boss’s husband. You couldn’t help but listen, half-amused, half-worried for her and her boss. The way they spoke about them, with such casual cruelty, made you feel bad for the two women, but at the same time, it was hard to not be intrigued.

You chuckled to yourself as you returned to your desk, but that quiet moment of levity was soon overshadowed by something worse. Later in the afternoon, you saw the same assistant leave the office in tears, her eyes red-rimmed as she hurried past your cubicle. You heard the boss, loud enough for the entire office to hear, scream in her wake, "How ungrateful some people are!" It hung in the air long after she had gone, an uncomfortable silence settling in as everyone pretended to be busy.

When you finally got home, you decided to go for a run. The cool air outside felt refreshing as you laced up your shoes and hit the pavement. It wasn’t a long run, just enough to stretch your legs and clear your head. By the time you returned, sweat on your brow, you felt more awake than you had all day. You took a hot shower, the steam washing away the weariness from your muscles, and for a moment, you felt light.

It was around mid-afternoon when Sarah knocked on your door, her face slightly flushed from the brisk walk over. She held a notebook under her arm, her usual look of determination replacing the exhaustion from earlier in the week.

"Hey, can you help me with my lit homework?" she asked, a bit sheepish but trying to hide it with her usual confidence.

"Of course," you said, gesturing for her to come inside.

As she set up at the kitchen table, she launched into a detailed account of the latest school drama. It was the same pattern—some new gossip or rumor, something about a classmate or a teacher that she found funny or ridiculous.

"Guess what?" she asked, leaning in conspiratorially. "Irina and Julian almost kissed in the hallway today."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Irina and Justin? No way."

"Yeah, I saw them, but then they just... didn’t." Sarah smirked. "I think Julian got scared. You know, like how he does when he talks to girls."

You couldn’t help but smile at her observations. She was so sharp, so aware of everything around her. You had no idea how she’d gotten so good at reading people, but it was impressive. Once you helped her finish her homework, she packed up her things, her expression shifting from casual to slightly more serious.

“I gotta go home,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I still need to work on my project. I’m not done yet.”

“Alright, I’ll text you later,” you replied, smiling at her as she grabbed her bag. “Good luck, love you.”

“Thanks, love ya too,” she called over her shoulder as she left. "I’ll let you know if I need anything else. Bye!”

With Sarah gone, you spent the rest of the afternoon in quiet solitude. You curled up on the couch with a bowl of snacks and started watching Bridget Jones’s Diary. The jokes felt like old friends, and by the time you’d gone through half of the movie, you were feeling light and at ease, the stresses of the day melting away.

For dinner, you opted for the ease of take-out. The thought of cooking felt like too much effort after such a peaceful afternoon. You ordered your usual—Chinese food, always comforting. After the long workweek, it was exactly what you needed. You ate in silence, savoring each bite, the day’s quiet moments stretching into the evening as you let your mind wander.

*

Friday. “No way!” you shouted, your voice coming out louder than you’d meant, and your eyes went wide as saucers. You stepped through the doorway, disbelieving for a moment, before you saw her standing there, grinning like she hadn’t a care in the world.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her into a tight hug. The warmth of her body against yours felt so familiar, and the sudden surge of emotion made your chest tighten in the best way. You squeezed her just a little harder, like you were trying to absorb her energy, like she could somehow make everything else feel lighter again.

“What are you doing here?” you finally breathed, pulling back just enough to look at her face. You searched her eyes, needing some explanation, still a little stunned.

Cassie’s smile spread wider, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with that same irrepressible energy you remembered. She still had that look—like she was always on the verge of something exciting, something unexpected.

“I ran away from home!” she declared with an enthusiasm that made her words feel even bigger. She placed her hands on your shoulders, bouncing on her heels like she couldn’t contain the rush of whatever had made her do this. “I just left. I needed to come back. I can't even begin to explain how much I've missed you!”

Her words hit you in a way that made your heart swell, the kind of feeling that caught you off guard, leaving you without a response at first. You just stared at her, as if trying to piece together what she was saying, still not quite believing it.

Without hesitation, you stepped aside and ushered her in, the familiar comfort of her presence filling the space in a way only she could. You watched her, feeling that strange mix of happiness and disbelief, as if she were an apparition you hadn’t expected to see again. It was like time hadn’t passed at all, and you were suddenly back in a world that had felt a little emptier without her.

As she settled her things around the room, Cassie started talking, filling in the blanks of her sudden arrival. She told you everything.

Bruno, her boyfriend, had been cheating on her with a coworker. Cassie had suspected it for weeks—finding a couple of odd messages on his phone was the first hint. But two days ago, she'd gotten the proof she needed when she came across a receipt for an underwear purchase. The whole thing felt so cliché, like something out of a bad rom-com, but the more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t ignore it. That’s when she started searching through his things. She rifled through his office, checking drawers, until she found a stack of small, folded notes hidden in the back. One of them had a kiss—bright pastel pink lipstick, the kind she hated. That color felt like an insult, like it was mocking her. So, in her frustration, she waited for him to come home, gathered everything up, and laid it out on the bed—evidence, neatly arranged like a cruel puzzle. Bruno denied everything at first, of course. He always did. But after a while, he cracked. She didn’t need to say much. The lies tumbled out of his mouth, and she just listened, her blood boiling. In the end, she destroyed every suit he owned—ripping them to shreds before kicking him out of the apartment they’d shared.

That night, in a mix of fury and disbelief, she impulsively booked a plane ticket, packed her things in a hurried mess, and left. Twenty hours of travel later, and now she was lying in your bed, talking a mile a minute. She had no concept of jetlag, or maybe she just didn’t care. The adrenaline was still running through her veins, and the weight of everything that had happened was only starting to sink in.

You both lay there for a while, and then, out of nowhere, Cassie asked about Joel. The question caught you off guard, and for a long moment, you didn’t answer. You tried to collect your thoughts, but when you finally spoke, your voice came out softer than you expected, almost muffled by the weight of it all. You told her about Sarah’s news, about Joel and Sienna. 

Cassie’s expression didn’t shift much at first. She seemed unsurprised, but a little relieved.

“Told you she wasn’t a real threat,” she said, nodding as though confirming a private thought.

But then you mentioned Travis. His name hung in the air, and Cassie’s reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, her lips parted slightly. She sat up in bed, her posture tense, like she hadn’t expected that at all.

“That son of a bitch,” Cassie muttered, her voice muffled by the pillow as she shook her head. “Who does he think he is, running around talking about you like that?”

You sighed, frustration bubbling up again. “I don’t know. I really don’t. It caught me off guard. I never thought he’d be that kind of person.”

Cassie sat up slightly, propping herself up on her elbow, eyes narrowing in a way that was both intense and oddly endearing.

“And why the hell didn’t Joel ask you about it? Why the hell did he believe some man he loathes?” She made a sharp gesture with her hands, as if dismissing the very idea. “Lately, his brain’s working like a mashed potato.”

You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped your lips, but it was more out of frustration than amusement.

“That’s exactly what I thought! Why didn’t he just ask me? I asked him a million times, ‘What the fuck are you talking about, Joel?’ and he wouldn’t tell me a thing. Nothing!”

Cassie closed her eyes for a moment, a deep sigh leaving her, as if trying to pull herself together before speaking. When she opened her eyes again, her expression softened, but there was a sharpness in her gaze.

“Because he was hurt. And angry. And he clearly didn’t feel like working things out with you at that moment. The best he could come up with was to blow up at you and make you feel as bad as he felt.”

You stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in slowly, and the room seemed quieter, somehow, as if everything was still in that moment.

“But why? Why did he go that far?” you asked, almost to yourself. The silence lingered.

Cassie shrugged, a look of genuine sympathy in her eyes.

“People are dumb when they’re hurting. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

You leaned back, exhaling slowly, your thoughts swirling in frustration and confusion. Then, as if a weight had settled in your chest, you found yourself asking, “Why didn’t you come sooner? It would’ve been so much easier to figure this out if I had you here with me.”

She looked at you, her smile softening before she hugged you tighter, her voice quiet.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me cry,” she teased, but there was a genuine warmth in the way she held you. “I was going to come for Christmas anyway, as a surprise. I didn’t plan on running away from Bruno first.”

You laughed, shaking your head, the tension easing just a little.

“I’m glad you came early, though. I missed you so much.”

Cassie grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Are you telling me it’s a good thing Bruno cheated on me? That’s why I came early?”

You playfully swatted her leg, laughing again.

“No, I’m not saying that. But I’m glad you dumped him. You deserve someone who actually knows how to treat you.”

Her grin widened, and for a moment, everything felt right again. But then she leaned in, her expression turning serious.

“And you need to patch things up with Joel,” she said bluntly, her voice just a little too firm. “Or I’m going to lock you two in a room and force you to talk. Honestly. And stop acting like kids.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, but not at you—more like she was holding herself back from giving you a motherly lecture.

“I know,” you confessed, sitting up straight and running a hand through your hair. You knew this conversation wasn’t over. “I’ll talk to him. I promise.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of endless conversation, the kind that felt both exhausting and comforting in equal measure. Cassie had so much to tell you, her words tumbling out one after the other like she couldn’t stop once she’d started. She spoke about her life in Italy—how she’d adapted to everything, how much she missed the simplicity of being back here, with you, in the same bed, talking about everything and nothing, like when you were younger. Her laugh was the same, a little higher pitched when she was genuinely happy, and it made you feel like time hadn’t passed at all.

As the hours drifted by, the conversation shifted seamlessly into memories. You both laughed and sighed as you reminisced about the time you first met, when you were both eleven, so awkward and unsure of yourselves, and how you’d ended up in Austin, drawn by your own separate pulls, yet still somehow close enough to see each other almost every day. Cassie had lived in a small downtown apartment back then. You had found a place nearby, just far enough to need a car to see each other, but close enough to drop by without any effort. You spent hours together in those days—sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the same space. You never lived together, though. 

Cassie was too social, too often hosting friends and acquaintances, always surrounded by people. You, on the other hand, had always been quieter. You preferred solitude, the peaceful comfort of being by yourself in your own space. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy Cassie’s company—quite the opposite. But you liked the balance of your lives: hers filled with chatter and life, and yours with quiet and space.

Now, with her sitting across from you, it felt like nothing had changed. You were still as close as you’d always been, still managing to keep the balance between her vibrant energy and your calmer, quieter presence. You felt a warmth spreading in your chest, the kind that came from having the best of friends beside you when you needed them the most. The fact that you didn’t know how long she would be staying only made you happier. It was a gift, this unexpected visit. 

Cassie’s voice broke through your thoughts. She’d stopped talking for a moment, her gaze softening, eyes closing briefly as she leaned back on the couch, a contented smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. 

“I feel better here,” she said, her voice quiet, as if the weight of her words was grounding her.

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, you smiled, letting the moment linger. You picked up your glass of wine and took a sip, letting the music fill the space between you before returning to the thread of your conversation. You started talking about old friends—those people you used to see all the time but had drifted away from. Faces and names from a past life, now reduced to half-remembered moments.

After a while, Cassie went to the bathroom, and for the first time in hours, you were left alone with your thoughts. The soft hum of the music seemed louder now, the words settling into your mind like an unspoken invitation. 

You needed to talk to Joel. You had to. 

The thought was like a knot in your stomach, tight and anxious. How could you even approach him? How could you talk to him again without feeling humiliated? 

This was it. The last chance. If he treated you badly again, if he shut you out again, you wouldn’t try anymore. If he didn’t want to listen to you, then fine. You weren’t going to beg. You weren’t going to chase after someone who didn’t care enough to meet you halfway. You could feel your resolve hardening, the idea of giving up no longer feeling like a loss, but a relief. You had done everything you could. The rest was out of your hands.

If he didn’t want to listen to you... well, that was his problem. Fuck him, then.

*

Saturday. “I’ll get it!” Cassie shouted from downstairs, her voice carrying easily through the house. 

You were in your room, towel drying your hair after the shower. Cassie had spent half the afternoon thrusting bottles of creams, serums, shampoos, and hair treatments at you, insisting with dramatic conviction that they were, and you quoted, “the best thing in the fucking world.” Reluctantly, you’d agreed to try them, and now your entire being smelled like vainilla and coco.

Downstairs, the door creaked open.

“Joel,” Cassie said, surprised but not unpleasantly so, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the figure on your doorstep. 

Joel blinked, visibly startled. His brows furrowed before relaxing, his expression softening into something almost amused. A soft smile.

“Cassie? What are you doing here? When did you get back?” 

She stepped aside slightly to greet him with a quick, casual hug that he received.

“Yesterday,” she said with a shrug, her eyes narrowing just enough to hint she was already gathering pieces of a puzzle Joel didn’t know existed. “Last-minute decision, you know. Want to come in?”

Joel hesitated, shifting his weight awkwardly. “No, I—uh, is she—” 

“She’s here,” Cassie interrupted, her tone smooth, deliberate. She tilted her head toward the stairs and called your name in a shout. Then, turning back to Joel, she grinned. “She’ll be down in a second. How’s Sarah? She must be huge by now!” 

Joel’s face lit up at the mention of his daughter, the tension in his shoulders loosening.

“She’s great. Yeah, she’s huge—almost taller than you,” he teased, lifting a hand to indicate Cassie’s height. 

Cassie rolled her eyes but laughed. “I want to see her. We should steal her for a girls’ night soon.” 

“Anytime,” Joel replied with a small smile, genuine now. “She’d love that.” 

Cassie zipped her coat with theatrical precision.

“Perfect. Let’s plan it.” She reached for her beret and adjusted it snugly, her gaze flicking briefly toward the stairs. 

You appeared at the landing, one foot on the top step, dressed in black pajama pants and an oversized sweater that hung loose on your frame. Your hair was dry, neat, and slightly glossy—courtesy of Cassie’s insistence. 

“Who is it?” you asked, taking another step before freezing halfway down. 

Your eyes landed on Joel. He stood stiffly, his posture uncertain. The smile he’d worn moments ago dissolved into something more unreadable, almost guarded. You felt a small knot tighten in your stomach.

“I’m going for a walk,” Cassie declared suddenly, breezing past Joel with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Nice seeing ya, Joel.” 

He nodded, but his attention stayed fixed on you. 

In less than a moment, Cassie was gone. The silence she left behind felt sharp, almost heavy. You forced yourself to move, descending the final steps slowly, deliberately, until you were close enough to meet Joel’s gaze without leaning forward. 

He looked different somehow. The dark jeans and heavy green flannel shirt he wore felt familiar, but his expression didn’t. His face was etched with something hard to place—nervousness, maybe, or regret. 

His eyes - oh my God, his eyes. 

You crossed your arms, leaning slightly against the doorframe, forcing yourself to sound steadier than you felt. “Joel, what happened?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper, though the question felt louder than anything you could have said. "Need somethin'?"

He exhaled, a sharp, controlled breath, his gaze flicking briefly to the floor, as if searching for something to say, then back to you. His brows flickered with indecision before he spoke, his voice low and careful, like each word was a step he wasn’t sure he could take.

“I... I know you probably don’t wanna see me,” he said, his voice low, almost strained, his eyes dark and heavy with something blue. “But I... I... can we talk? Please?”

[celaenaeiln]

Small scenario ask:

A kid version of Robin!Dick gets teleported into the present day of the DCU, in particular during one of those times that Batfamily are split up and at each other’s throats with only Tim(my) and Alfred sort of trying to keep the peace.

They don’t know he’s present until he jumps in from out of nowhere to help the Batfamily take on a Scarecrow attack.

How would they react to this tiny version of Dick and his more chipper and lively attitude especially once he starts asking Batman if these other guys around them are their allies or something?

OMG I AM SO EXCITEEDD!!

THE FUNNY THING IS IVE ACTUALLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS TOPIC SEPARATELY IN MY HEAD!!

Not this exact scenario but just like how much Dick has changed over the years.

This is SUCH a good fanfic idea!!!

Okay so Dick would jumps into the future where the whole family is fighting and all of a sudden, a brightly colored boy just "POP"'s into the dark batcave.

Everyone at that point had been growling and snarling and screaming at each other over ethics and morals and course of action for a case that devolved into tearing at family lines and loyalties.

The tensions are high and no one is on anyone's side because as united as the batfamily is, they are just as divided.

They're seconds from coming to blows when - pop (goes the weasel. lol jk) - a 3 foot 2'' boy in the most canary yellow cape, scarlet vest, and emerald green scaled shorts blinks into existence.

The batfamily immediately goes for their weapons at the sound and most barely refrain from throwing them at the sight of a boy but some weapons slip out people's hands too fast for them stop.

They watch with their hearts in their throats and move as one to prevent it, their minds barely registering the sight in front of them, the only thought in their heads is - STOP! As if mere words could halt assailing weapons hurtling at breakneck speeds towards the child.

They've barely started moving when the small child - he couldn't have been taller than Batman's hip at the height he was - suddenly bounced on his right foot and used the moment to twirl horizontally in the air. The brilliant yellow cape swirled around his body as he turned, almost acting like a cocoon. The batarang sailed underneath their twirling body while two knives sliced the air harmlessly above him, all three weapons embedding themselves soundlessly into the cave walls behind him.

The batfamily makes an aborted move forward, halting in their tracks as the imminent danger passed and the walking traffic light of a child uses their split-second of decision to stop to take the time to gracefully land on his toes before flipping far out of reach. His back arched back into a perfect elegant little backflips which absolutely should not be possible or done so smoothly for a boy as young as he, but the kid manages anyway to land perched on a railing from the upper batcave level, looking down at them from his spot.

Duke glanced around to see if the rest of them had seen the same thing he did. Clearly not because Bruce, Tim, and Alfred looked like they'd seen a ghost. Jason and Damian looked grudgingly impressed. Steph looked openly impressed.

"So, we’ve got surprise visitors, huh? Gee, swell! You folks friends of B? Wait a sec-that can’t be right. B doesn’t have any friends except for me!" The kid chirped - and Duke swore, honest to god, chirped - with a cheeky grin, hands on his hips like he'd just cracked the world's funniest joke.

Duke just stood there, mouth slightly open, like his soul had momentarily left his body. The kid’s mask squinted as if narrowing his eyes at Bruce.

Duke blinked hard. Am I hallucinating? Did I eat bad takeout? He thought.

Bruce, meanwhile, stood frozen, looking like he was wondering where in his life he went wrong.

“Gee whiz, mister, I don’t mean to jump to conclusions or nothin’, but it’s kinda bad manners to go borrowin’ somebody else’s clothes without asking first!” He gave Bruce an exaggerated once-over, the grin on his face making it clear he wasn’t intimidated in the least. “I mean, that cape looks swell and all, but it isn't exactly screaming ‘your size,’ ya know?”

He tilted his head and piped up, “A friend of Catwoman’s?” His voice was light, full of curiosity and mischief.

Jason suddenly snorted. "A friend of Catwoman's, alright."

Cass gently smiled. Duke suspected she had known from the beginning who he was and thus had not moved a muscle during the chaos. Duke couldn’t shake the feeling it wasn’t because of uncertainty. Nope, Cass had known. She always knew.

He sighed internally. Why was he always the last to catch on to these Batfamily mysteries? On the other hand, maybe he should be grateful. He was still wiping off the remaining sludge off his suit from the last batfamily mayhap.

"Dick?" Bruce’s voice was raw, breaking apart as if it couldn’t decide whether to hope or mourn. It was the sound of disbelief and desperate longing, the kind of ache you didn’t just hear—you felt it. Duke’s chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. He couldn’t imagine what it must mean to Bruce, but the pain was so thick it was almost unbearable.

"Who are you, mister?" Dick - holy fuck that was Dick. Wait- Duke whipped his head around. Where was their Dick?!

Tim was looking a little peaky in Duke's opinion and that was saying something since the other guy always looked pale.

Bruce raised a shaking hand to his cowl, dragging it down the back of his head almost looking like he wanted to do anything but. "Bruce. It's me, Bruce."

"I know you're a guy who looks like Bruce, but you're not my Bruce."

If his kids' previous deaths hadn't killed Bruce, then that one single sentence did, Duke thought, watching the man.

He saw a flicker of something break inside Bruce. The hardened mask Bruce wore cracked, revealing the raw, vulnerable man beneath. It was like hearing the one thing he feared most—that he wasn’t enough for them—and the way it pierced him was brutal. The light left Bruce's eyes for a moment, and Duke could almost feel the weight of that rejection.

It probably hurts to hear it from an 8 year old version of a person that adored you. Duke realized sadly. He wasn't there for Dick's childhood with the man - none of them were - but he was sure it wasn't called the Golden Ages by everyone for show by all those who had known them then.

"Wait, Alfred?" Dick asked, boring holes into the elderly butler.

So, he recognizes the same Alfred but not Bruce? Duke fought back a hysterical laugh. That's gotta sting. Sorry, man. Duke sent a silent prayer to the man who looked like he didn't know if he was going to start sobbing or glaring daggers.

Alfred cleared his throat, rather wetly in Duke's opinion. "Yes, son." He said and smiled warmly.

The boy gave a hoot of laughter that sent the bats in a flurry as he threw himself off the railing. Steph and Jason scrambled to catch him but mini-Dick (Duke was still half-panicking over where big-Dick went. Big-Dick. Haha) hopped onto Jason's shoulder used Stephanie's back as a personalized springboard and landed happily in Alfred's arms.

He hugged the man's neck like it was a plush toy and Alfred tightly held the boy with one arm under his thighs and the other around his waist.

Duke noted with no small amount of surprise that Dick perceptively didn't point of Alfred's suspiciously wet eyes and near-silent sniffling. It was damn loud for the cave though.

"Hey, did you whip up some cookies? I gotta say, that casserole’s a real knock-out, and your filet mignon? Spot on! Say, after we chow down, how about a rousing game of badminton? I’m on fire today! Let’s shake a leg, have some fun, and see who’s got the best swing!"

"Of course, Master Dick." Alfred said and the two continued conversing as Alfred carried the boy up the stairs of the batcave.

"Say, did you get to the next chapter of Lady in the Lake? I gotta tell ya, there's something fishy goin' on there, like a real gumshoe mystery. I can smell a twist coming a mile away, like a crook with a bad alibi! Whaddya think? There’s more to this dame than meets the eye, I betcha!"

Dick's voice faded as the rest of them dumbfoundedly realized they needed to follow after the two of them. Except for Cass, of course, who was already tugging a stiff Stephanie along.

Duke couldn’t help notice Tim. The guy was practically glowing in the corner like he was about to faint, his face flush with excitement. Duke knew all about Tim’s obsession with Grayson—Steph had spilled enough gossip to fill a novel. Tim had ranted about Dick for years, quoting everything from his acrobatics to his smile. But now, seeing the younger version of Grayson in front of him? Tim was this close to passing out. His eyes were practically sparkles. If there were stars in the Batcave, they were all shining in Tim’s eyes.

“Tim, dude, you alright?” Duke teased, but Tim couldn’t even form words. He just gave a thumbs-up so exaggerated it might as well have come with a marching band soundtrack.

Duke couldn’t shake the feeling that Damian was acting a little… off. The usually fierce, unflappable kid was clearly trying to maintain his tough exterior, but Duke could see the subtle signs. The way Damian’s eyes flicked over to Dick with just a hint of nervousness, his stance rigid, like he was bracing for something, but not quite sure what.

"Is it just me, or is Dick an absurdly happy kid?" Duke suddenly spoke, thinking about Dick's demeanor. The older Dick Grayson was so strict and while he joked, there wasn't a free-hearted levity in him that his child version carried.

The kid had been practically shining, bouncing around the Batcave as if it were his personal playground. This was the same kid who had grown into the stoic, responsible, and sometimes brooding Nightwing. The difference was like night and day. Duke could see the weight of the years had changed him, and as he watched this boy, full of energy and warmth, he realized just how much had been lost. This wasn't the Dick they all knew. This was a Dick that had never seen the kind of pain that had hardened him into the man they looked up to.

It was a version of Dick they would never witness - laughing so freely, so full of life - one that was locked away in Bruce's heart, his memories paying tribute to their god-like figure he'd embellished of their brother.

It was a homage Bruce had unknowingly clung to and fed into, and a part of Duke wondered how much of this Dick, too, had buried inside himself.

Duke felt an ache in his bones, realizing just how much was buried under the weight of Dick’s current life. The boy before him was a ghost of the past that no one would ever get back.

Jason groaned. "One depressing revelation at a time, Duke." He stomped his way up the stairs followed by near swooning Tim, and an anxious Damian.

Bruce hadn't moved an inch. It was as if the air around him had thickened, suffocating both of them with tension. Bruce, usually so composed, was now locked in a frozen tableau of silent agony. His face was unreadable, but his eyes - Duke could see them - betrayed a terrible storm. Guilt, loss, and a deep, unspoken grief. The kind of grief that didn’t make noise but settled in your bones and dragged you under.

But Duke was The Signal. He was the Light, that's what his emblem meant. While Bruce was drowning in his own anguish, Duke could not afford to drown with him. So he patted the man on the back and followed his brothers up the stairs, readying himself for more horrifying realizations about the loss of innocence and joy from their favorite brother.

[blackenedsnow]

helloooooo, your writing is amazingggggg and i was hoping it would be okay if i requested a shadowww x reader. Where Maybe sonic ask shadow to bring medicine to you (to try and introduce you to shadow as your sick with something or have a major injury, etc). Shadow prehaps is annoyed but agrees anyways, then however when he meets you sees maria in you. Then veryday to be sure you get better shows up in the morning to help take care of you, and slowly the two become friends then prehaps at the end share a kiss and become lovers? Idk it sounded cute in my head lol.

familiar

WARNING: Illness

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Sick! Reader

NOTE: This is such a cute request and I'm pretty proud of this! Sending you all the love, and I hope this brightens your day a little! Take care of yourself <333

SUMMARY: Shadow reluctantly delivers medicine to you at Sonic’s insistence, but upon meeting you, he’s struck by a haunting familiarity.

It was late afternoon when Shadow approached the house tucked away at the edge of the city, a small bag of medicine clutched in his gloved hand. The only reason he was here, he reminded himself, was because Sonic had all but begged him to.

“Come on, Shadow,” Sonic had said earlier, exasperated but hopeful. “They’re too sick to go anywhere, and I’m tied up with something. Just drop it off and say hi. You might even like them!”

Shadow had scoffed at that. “Highly unlikely.”

Yet here he was, standing at your door. He knocked, sharp and deliberate, and waited.

A muffled voice from inside called, “Coming!”

The door creaked open, revealing you. Despite the exhaustion evident in your eyes and the pallor of your complexion, you greeted him with a weak but genuine smile.

“Oh, you must be… Shadow?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded curtly, holding out the medicine. “Sonic sent me. He thought you might need this.”

You accepted the bag with a quiet “thank you,” looking up at him with an expression so open, so trusting, that it stopped him in his tracks. For a fleeting moment, he was no longer standing at your doorstep but aboard the ARK, looking into the kind eyes of someone he thought he’d lost forever.

Maria.

The resemblance wasn’t physical, but there was something about your demeanor—gentle, unassuming, and kind despite the pain you were clearly in—that tugged at a memory buried deep in his chest.

“You okay?” you asked, noticing his prolonged silence.

He blinked, snapping himself out of the moment. “Fine. Just… don’t forget to take the medicine.”

You chuckled lightly, the sound hoarse but pleasant. “I won’t. Thanks again, Shadow.”

He nodded again, turning on his heel and disappearing into the fading daylight.

To Shadow’s own surprise, he returned the next morning.

It had been a restless night. Thoughts of Maria swirled in his mind, but they mingled with the image of your weary yet kind face. He told himself he was simply being thorough, ensuring you were following the instructions for the medication.

When you opened the door again, wrapped in a blanket and looking just as surprised as you were grateful, Shadow felt the smallest pang of relief.

“You’re back,” you said, stepping aside to let him in.

“You didn’t seem capable of taking care of yourself yesterday,” he replied bluntly, though there was no malice in his tone.

You laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

It became a routine. Every morning, Shadow arrived with something—soup, tea, a fresh supply of tissues—and checked on you. At first, his visits were brief and businesslike. He would make sure you had what you needed and leave with little more than a nod. But as the days passed, the conversations grew longer.

You learned to expect his dry wit and sharp observations, and he found himself oddly drawn to your quiet resilience. Despite how miserable you felt, you always thanked him sincerely, your gratitude genuine and unassuming.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said one morning as he set a cup of tea on your bedside table.

“I know,” he replied simply, sitting in the chair he’d claimed as his own.

“Then why?”

He hesitated, his crimson eyes flicking to the floor. “You…” he paused, looking back at you with a sigh. “I don’t know.”

You didn’t press him, sensing the weight of his words, but your soft “Okay, thank you.” carried more meaning than either of you acknowledged.

By the time you were well enough to venture outside again, the bond between you and Shadow was undeniable.

“You don’t have to come by anymore,” you said one evening as he walked you back to your door after a short outing. “But… I’d miss you if you didn’t.”

He paused, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something vulnerable.

“I’d miss you too,” he admitted, the words slow but sincere.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened, and for the first time since you’d met him, Shadow looked genuinely flustered.

“Thank you, Shadow,” you whispered. “For everything.”

His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, a rare and precious sight. “I... You’re welcome.”

And from that moment on, his visits were no longer about ensuring your recovery—they were about seeing you.

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 51!

almost the last fic rec list of the year, can you believe it? like last week, i haven't cross-referenced this list with previous ones, so apologies for any potential double recs!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

before the night fades | MilenaDaniels/@milenadaniels| 8.6k | T

EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night. this fic is one of my favourite outsider povs ever! it does such a wonderful job of capturing our 911 characters as well as fleshing out a lovely cast of ocs <3

chicken alfredo | EiraLloyd/@unlifeira | 4.6k | T

when Helena laughs at the idea that her son is now able to cook well, Buck ropes Eddie into proving her otherwise. this captures the buddie dynamic so so well <3 also made me hungry lol

do you want me (or do you want me dead) | carpediaz/@sofa-king-lame | 2.3k | T

The one where Buck finds out Eddie wears reading glasses and loses his fucking mind over them, and Eddie knows exactly what he's doing. eddie in reading glasses is a VISION holy shit buck is so relatable in this. i love the silly fun!!

emails i can't send | heartbeatdiaz/@lonelychicago | 6k | T

buck should've known better than to let his email account open and then give his computer to a toddler to play with. i love love love the formatting of this one, with the emails and everything <3 so so good!! they're just french angelfish <3

i took a little journey to the unknown | 42hrb/@exhuastedpigeon | 4.3k | T

“I-it’s okay, you don’t have to talk,” Buck says and the comforting warmth is back on Eddie’s hand. The only thought that rings clearly through his head is that Buck’s hand is safe. Buck is going to keep him safe. “Just - can you squeeze my hand if you’re awake?” this is just such a lovely fic. i love the character study elements and the hand holding and just <3

in the dark (with the stars) | tawaifeddiediaz/@aashiqeddiediaz | 13k | M

Eddie’s relationship with food, anxiety and cooking, as told through the past and present. eddie's relationship with food in both canon and fanon is absolutely fascinating to me. i loved this take on it so much <3

last first kiss | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 3.4k | GA

Buck tries to say goodbye. Eddie isn't ready. frankly i think the best promo i can give this fic is exactly what i said in my comment here, which is "tim minear better be taking notes" because wow it's just that good <3

lucky boy | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 1.9k | T

In which Buck and Eddie are so bad at being in a secret relationship, but instead of show-typical angst, fluff! secret relationship buddie, the gift that keeps on giving <3 exactly the fic i needed on a cold early bus ride this week!!

platonic co-parents don't kiss like we do | thelikesofus/@thelikesofus | 7.1k | M

5 times other people see Buck and Eddie kiss + 1 time they really mean it. i love love love all these different types of kisses <3 the loveliest buddie fic from the perspective of the firefam!!

take what the water gave me | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 20.7k | M

New transfer to the 118, Eddie Diaz, has a secret. And upon getting to know his coworker, Buck, who is also hiding something, he begins to suspect their secret is the same. He's wrong. i've been devouring every little snippet of this fic i've seen on tumblr and i was so so excited to see the full thing land in my inbox! and wow did it not disappoint. such great worldbuilding and such a fantastic characterisation of eddie <3

the bunkroom fic | exvichan | 11.5k | T

The Station 118 bunkroom has witnessed a lot over the years. Private conversations, spats, occasions of affection, joy, and anguish. It’s seen pranks, and games, and camaraderie. It’s even been privy to an unfolding love story or two. It holds the memory of each of these moments. the 118 bunkroom my beloved <3 i love these little moments so much, especially the conversations between the firefam!!

the wayward son | brewrosemilk/@gayhoediaz | 56.9k | E

Eddie misses his son, grows a mustache, pines after his best friend, and becomes a regular at a gay sex club. That last part is either an indulgence or an inevitable, somewhat self-destructive conclusion to several decades worth of compulsory heterosexuality and catholic guilt. Don’t ask him which. i can't even capture the vibe of this fic in just a few lines but holy shit is it brilliant. the most incredibly writing, great characterisation, and also just very hot stuff. an immediate bookmark and new favourite!

[mcytegg]

What were your thoughts on the devotions in today's stream?

ummm. okay so its complicated LMFAO cause like okay. u need to keep in mind my inherent bias for mapicc in general bc i recognize his wrongdoings and flaws, i just dont care in the slightest. like its still mapicc and i support his rights and wrongs always.

on one hand i do always enjoy dysfunctional and codependent relationships and friendships in general, like i love toxic codependency a lot so obviously i fw whatever the hell zam and mapicc have going on. i also just........support mapicc always. like as long as he is doing what makes him happy. or what he thinks will make him happy, i support him simply bc he is mapicc. even if he has dumbass fucking ideas, theyre usually funny anyways so yk its whatever as long as hes doing what he thinks is best for himself.

on the flipside, i do very much recognize theyre both treating each other very unfairly and i dont think theyre able to communicate everything they need to. it annoys me when people spam in chat "just communicate" bc mapicc avoids talking abt his own feelings and struggles openly in a Normal Way like the plague and zam himself cant FULLY and TRULY be honest abt how he feels w anyone bc he cant even do it w himself. there are so many feelings and thoughts zam has that he struggles HEAVILY to deal w on his own so him being unable to be completely honest w anyone else, even if unintentionally, just makes sense. like no matter who it is— whether its someone he trusts deeply like mapicc, someone who pushes and prods him like kab, or someone who is patient and gentle w him like derap. its not smt that can just be Solved just like that bc its BEEN an issue throughout multiple seasons.

i enjoy analyzing and picking apart the devotions dynamic bc i love them both as characters very dearly and i like their toxic thing. i like that theyre fucked up and codependent but i also recognize that its just very much not healthy for either of them, and i can understand why others may not fw their dynamic like i do since i specifically Enjoy codependendency as a trope LOL

[idontplaytrack]

janis or regina x reader where no one (including their friend group) knew that they were dating. until one day reader gets injured at school somehow and they rush over to help her.

Take another step

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, some squabbling, fluff

A dodgeball to the head unravels a chaotic situation on a whole new level (I had too much fun with this fic lol💀)

The sound of Mr. Park’s whistle pierced your ears, as was the pain piercing through your head. Janis saw the dodgeball get thrown at your head in the midst of the chaos among both teams. You had already lost your balance, so that and the pushing and shoving caused you to fall. The game was promptly stopped, Janis also came up to you to help you out of the crowd of fellow students. And then, you just threw up. Everything was a blur, but you knew you weren’t exactly okay. You had a concussion.

You remembered mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ to Janis because you barely missed her Converses. And then…your world turned pitch black.

Your eyes slowly peeled opened, but instantly shut again due to the bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. You groaned, then heard movement beside you and two people squabbling quietly. Wait a second…you knew those voices.

“y/n?”

“What?” You murmured, very slowly turning your head as you vision came into focus on the dark haired artist with dark purple streaks in her hair. “Wh- why are you here? Uh—” You looked at the person next to her. A blonde, standing next to Janis, in between Janis and your mother.

“How are you feeling?” Your mom asked.

“My head kills.” You grumbled, wincing.

“Yeah, you have a pretty bad concussion.” Your mom frowned. “But your friends are here to see you.”

“Um— okay.”

Janis wasn’t actually your friend. And especially not Regina.

”When can I go home?”

“They’re gonna keep you here for a couple days because of the concussion.”

You sighed, defeated. “Guys, just…go home. I’ve got nothing to do. I just wanna sleep.”

Regina shrugged, then left, “If you say so.” Janis stayed behind, waiting for Regina to leave first. “I’ll go get a coffee, just rest up for now, alright?” Your mom squeezed your hand as she spoke.

“Okay,” You swallowed thickly, “See you later.” You watch your mom leave, then looked back at Janis, “And why are you still here?”

“Um.” She started. “I helped you up after you fell get out of there. Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Well, I am. So you can go now, I’m sure you have better things to do than being in the hospital with me.”

Janis squinted at you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“Okay, but why? I know we’re in some of the same classes and all, but we’ve never really talked unless we had to work on projects together.”

“Because…” Janis cleared her throat, “I’m uh, I care about you…?”

You were too out of it, and just speaking your mind currently. “Oh, okay.”

“Regina says she likes you.”

You scoffed, “I don’t think so. I’m in her Burn Book. She wrote some nasty shit about me, Janis. Does she think I don’t know it just because I choose to keep to myself?”

“Well she just told me she does and we got into a little bit of a fight.”

“Fight for what?” You looked at her, puzzled.

“I told her that you most likely knew about the Burn Book. Like— what she wrote and stuff. She’s just insisting you don’t, because you don’t have a clue what’s going on.” Janis explained, “So then I told her, it was up to you to choose between her or me. We’re both gonna woo you.”

Woah.

“Um…” You sniffled, “I’m sorry what? Did you just confess to me? Me.”

“Seems like I did. While she left, so…” She grinned cheekily.

“Thanks for helping me out. I didn’t throw up on your shoes, did I?” You cringed.

“No, you’re good.” Janis laughed a little, leaning slightly closer to look at you. You laughed at the proximity of your faces, feeling just a tad awkward. After all, she did just confess to you. While looking at your current pale face, messy hair and bloodshot eyes. You also definitely had a bump on your head somewhere. That’s why it hurt. So damn bad.

“I’m gonna throw up.” You looked at her dead in the eyes when you said it. She was totally unfazed and just stuck the emesis bucket under your chin.

“This sucks.” You sighed.

“I feel ya.” Janis was still smiling. You weren’t used to it, but you were…okay with it. Why were you okay with it? “I hear you were supposed to tutor Regina?”

“Yeah, for algebra.” You laid back cautiously. She got rid of whatever was in the bucket and returned. “Norbury asked me to. Now I’m just…here. And I’m not too sure I wanna do it.”

“Then don’t.”

“Do you think she’ll let me off the hook?”

“I mean, Norbury—”

“Not Norbury. Regina. I’ll still see her anyway, God knows how. But you did say she’s trying to woo me too.”

“We’ll see.” She wiggled her brows playfully.

“Right, we will.”

“Hey, um, once you’re able to get outta here…should we go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

“We kind of are alone now, so…” You joked.

“I mean- yeah.” Janis laughed, “But I was thinking, something nicer than this. When you’re not feeling nauseous and achy and stuff. Only if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The smile on Janis’ face returned, “Put your number in. I’ll text you once I get it planned.”

You took her phone and put your number in.

“Great.” Janis slid her phone back into her pocket, “Do you want me to go so you can rest? I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay, Janis.” You agreed with a little nod, “Thanks.”

“I’ll text you.” She squeezed your hand lightly, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, “Take care.”

Janis left, so you were alone. Left alone with that sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach and your throbbing head. You were dozing off when the door opened, a nurse came in to check your vitals. You didn’t have to be awake for that so you just proceeded to drift off to sleep. When you woke up, your Mom was asleep in the armchair near your bed. The clock tells you that it was way past dinnertime, but you were hungry. You see a coffee cup on the table— your Mom’s and a brown paper bag next to it. You sat up straight and scooted closer to the table to pull it closer to yourself. Quietly, you dug through the bag and found a sandwich and a brownie. You put the sandwich back then began eating the brownie contently, you felt pretty great right now considering the nausea. At least you felt like eating. And could keep it down. You found your phone after your little dinner and decided to check your messages. You’ve gotten a few from Janis, which wasn’t too surprising. But you also received a couple from Regina. She didn’t even have your number in the first place, that was weird.

Right, your moms were friends. Taking in a deep breath, you put your phone away then got up to use the bathroom. Your Mom woke up when she heard the footsteps.

“Mom, I’m okay. Just gotta pee.”

“I know, sweetie. Just making sure.” She said.

“You could’ve went home to sleep, Mom.” You told her, leaving the bathroom door open slightly. It was late and you weren’t feeling the best so you didn’t really care. “Nurses and doctors are like, ten feet away.”

“I know, but I just don’t want you to wake up and suddenly realise I left you here alone without telling you first.”

You chuckled, “Okay. I appreciate that, thank you.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s…there. Kind of annoying but isn’t as bad compared to when I first woke up. Did you know I threw up once?”

“When I went to get coffee? Yeah. It’s normal though, with concussions. But I get that it sucks.”

You washed your hands then walked back to your bed with the IV pole that was connected to the back of your hand.

————

The next week, Regina shows up at your on a Tuesday, claiming that she used the excuse of you having to tutor her to get out of hanging out with Gretchen and Karen because she wanted to be with you. She’s been texting you sometimes over the week, but you truly couldn’t show any real interest in her because you were just reminded of how she’d hurt you with the Burn Book, and thinks that you had zero clue.

The silence was out of shock as she stood before you on the porch. You gave her a forced smile, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanna see you. I need to talk to you.” She said, looking at you. Her gaze was soft, she seemed genuine, but you couldn’t get past that mental hurdle just yet. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sure.” You stepped to the side so she could walk in, then you shut and locked the door. 

With the silence between both of you, it did not take long for you to start talking. Talking about how you knew about the Burn Book. More specifically what was written about you.

“Janis told me about the agreement you two had.” You began, “I’m gonna be honest with you, Regina. She’s winning. Because you hurt me and assumed that I had no idea about it just because I wasn’t here on the day that the Burn Book got dropped in the hallway. The people talk, Regina. A lot. I’ve been hurt before, but they never become like you…crushing on me, or so you say. How do I believe you? How do you expect me to believe you?”

She looked at you blankly for a bit, then said, “You’re right, it’s wrong for me to assume. I never should’ve done any of it. But I cannot change what’s already been done. If you’ll let me, if you’ll give me a chance…I’ll show you that I can change. That I’ve been trying to change.”

“Regina, I’ve known you for almost seven years.” You continued, “You’ve never once made me feel comfortable in your presence. I’ve known Janis for three and barely talked to her before she stayed with me in the hospital after you left that day. She made me feel…normal. I didn’t have to keep running my replies through my head, I didn’t have to worry about my hair, my clothes, my facial expressions.”

Her face fell, her gaze turned sad, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t know it was okay to like a girl. I couldn’t accept it, I couldn’t accept myself. I’m still struggling, but I’m sorry for what I’ve said and what I’ve done to hurt you. I thought if I did that to you, my actual feelings for you would go away. But it didn’t — and I just feel like shit.”

Seeing her sad made you so uncomfortable. You could never be at ease in her presence. 

“I get that, but I cannot let this continue. I just can’t see myself being with you. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Regina nodded, “Thanks for letting me talk.” 

“Least I could do is hear you out.” You replied.

“I’m sorry about the concussion. Shane’s a horrible player.” Regina continued.

“I’m getting better. It’s fine.” You managed a chuckle, eyes somehow welling up with tears. You actually spoke up, and she didn’t stop you.

“I got you a little something on my way here.” She took a Twix bar out of her purse, “Heard this was your favourite so I wanted to cheer you up a little.” 

“Thanks, Regina.” 

She smiled, though a little sadly. But she knew she wasn’t going to get more out of this than an acquaintanceship or friendship— someday, maybe. Regina’s got to move on from this rejection, but ultimately right now, now that she’s gotten an answer from you for her burning question, she just doesn’t want you to hate her anymore.

“We’ll uh, take it a day at a time, shall we?” You said, “You’re on probation.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up, excited for a moment.

“Show me you mean it. I don’t want to see or hear you making others feel like shit. Like, actually.” 

“I heard ya. You have my word.” 

Regina left immediately after that, and Janis texted you right as you laid down. This goes on for a bit until you decided to make dinner for yourself since your Mom was going to be working till late. Janis texted you to ask what you were making for dinner. You texted her a photo of a packet of instant ramen.

> Do you want to go out for dinner?

You squinted, re-reading the text.

You were tempted. Very tempted, but also very nervous.

Where? <

> You pick, I drive :D

Smooth, ‘Imi’ike. You know how to make a girl smile <

> I try :p 

> Pick you up in 20!

Okay then, so it seems you were going to dinner with Janis. You left the unopened pack of instant noodles on the counter then scurried to your room to go get changed after letting her know your address. You were staring at your wardrobe for what seemed like ages before you got annoyed and just decided to put on a t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts. This wasn’t a date. 

This wasn’t a date. Was it?! Oh gosh.

Janis pulled up in front of your house on the dot, you grabbed your phone, wallet and keys and shoved them into your sling bag before going out. “Hi, pretty girl.” Janis smiled, reaching over from the driver’s seat to open the door for you. 

You looked away for a split second before getting in to hide your flushed cheeks. She doesn’t say anything about it, so maybe she didn’t notice. It was getting kind of dark out anyway. “So…where are we headed?” Janis asked.

“Um, maybe pizza?” 

“Well then, pizza it is.” Janis grinned, then drove off further away from your house. She had her playlist playing softly through the speakers, not your type of music, but you didn’t mind. It was pretty good. “Doing any better?”

“I mean, I’m going out to dinner with you so I would say so.” You laughed. “I’m going back to school tomorrow. Have some questions for the French worksheet, but that can wait.”

“That’s right, dinner first.” Janis nodded, “Good to have you back in school though. We’ll settle the French homework after.”

You’ve been cooped up at home for the last few days, you didn’t exactly have the motivation to do much even around the house. So, you didn’t force yourself to go out. You were still somewhat dizzy, and sometimes you’d suddenly get nauseous. But, a whole lot better in comparison to your first day in the hospital. You hummed, nodded, then looked out the window. “You alright? Should I turn back?”

“I’m okay.��� You assured, looking at her for a moment. You saw how worried she was and felt bad. “Just the headache.” You explained. “I’m sorry.” She replied, “Do you need Tylenol? I have it in the glove compartment.” 

“I already—” Your eyes screwed shut, “I already took one.”

“Close your eyes for a bit then, I’ll wake you up when we get there.” Janis suggested, “Maybe the lights are making your headache worse. You like Pepperoni?”

“Okay.” You muttered. “Yeah, that’s my favourite. With hot honey.”

As you turned your head to face the window, you nodded off quite quickly thanks to the movement of the car. So, lucky for Janis, you didn’t notice that she was smiling at you— in her words, ‘like an idiot’.

Awhile later, the car comes to a stop at a light. Swiftly, Janis made a pickup order for pizza— one pineapple and one pepperoni with hot honey. As soon as she put her phone back down, the light turned green. So she continued to drive to the pizza parlour. Once at the pizza place, she collected the pizzas and returned to her car. You seemed fine, but she was still a bit worried nonetheless. It also wasn’t too long before Janis arrived at the destination she had in mind. 

She parked the car but left the engine on. Tapping your shoulder, she said, “We’re here.” 

You stirred in your sleep a little bit but woke up soon enough. Where the hell were you?

You squinted your eyes again, trying to get used to the dim surroundings. “Where are we? Did you take me to this secluded place to murder me? I’m shocked.” 

“Woah, woah.” She snickered, “Calm down, I’m not Jade West plotting something against Tori Vega.” Then you saw her turn to face you, shifting in her seat. Janis unbuckled your seatbelt and you were so taken aback, you held your breath. You couldn’t exactly see that since it was dark. You just felt it until you saw her look right into your eyes. “Hi~”

Well, there it goes. You were blushing— again. God, why is she so pretty?!

“Where are we?”

“A place… to eat our pizza that wouldn’t hurt your eyes and your head.” Janis grinned cheekily, getting out from the driver’s side and opened your door for you. Sticking her hand out, you held onto it without even processing what you just did. You were…spacing out a little.

You blinked profusely, snapping back into reality when you felt a tap on your nose. “I know you’re recovering from a concussion, babe. But don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry, I just— sorry—” You rambled. She leads you a little ways away from her car. 

She laughed, finding this so freaking cute. “It’s okay, ‘cause you’re cute.” Janis squeezes your hand, brushing her thumb over your knuckles, “Sit down.” You two were now standing under a tree. She sat down on the grass, then you followed suit a second later. 

“Okay, eat up.” Janis opened up the box containing the hot honey pepperoni pizza first for you, “It’s still warm.”

“Is this—”

“Yup.”

Now you were the one smiling like an idiot. “Wow, thanks.” You chuckled.

“No problem.” She said back, helping herself to a slice. 

As you munched on your own slice, you finally got the chance to look up and around you. You saw the stars, and were quickly in awe. “Okay, this is amazing. Thank you for taking me here.” 

“Hey, I wasn’t going to let you suffer under bright lights and neon signs if that means you can’t have a good time tonight.” Janis replied, “Now that I think of it, you’re not gonna puke are you?” 

“Not anytime soon, I don’t think.” You answered with a laugh, “I also have a touch of emetophobia so I’m just lucky I was that out of it in the hospital.” 

“Aw.”

“I deal with it.” You shrugged.

“Of course, but if you need anything let me know how to help, okay?”

You only nodded since your mouth was full. “I bought drinks too, what do you want? Water or Sprite?”

“Water’s good.” You replied, glancing at her. She opened the cap for you and you took it from her, mumbling a soft thank-you. “Um, also, earlier today…Regina came over to talk to me. But instead, I told her I knew about what she wrote  about me in that dumb book. Told her I couldn’t picture myself with her at all because she’s never made me feel comfortable in her presence— ever.”

“She didn’t give you too much trouble, I hope.” 

“No, actually. I said all that to her, and she proceeded to tell me she basically did what she did because she didn’t know how to deal with her feelings for a girl. She didn’t know it was okay to like a girl, and thought that if she bullied me or you for that matter…that her feelings would change.” You sighed, “I feel for her, but she did hurt me. I didn’t know why, and even if I do now…it doesn’t change the past.” 

“It must be difficult too since your moms are friends.” 

“We only had to spend time in the same place because our moms wanted to hang out sometimes. She didn’t talk to me, I didn’t talk to her. It was really tense and awkward though.” 

“I bet.” Janis smiled, understanding deeply, “Okay, so enough about that. Tell me…about you.” 

“Not much going on in my life, Janis.” You shrugged, “Parents know I’m gay, Dad hates it, hates me. Mom pretends to not acknowledge it around him. But I know she’s okay with it. I mean…I don’t tell her things because I’m still a bit cautious about it since she might tell my Dad. But yeah.” 

“Luckily for me, my parents are both okay with it. My mom’s bi actually.” Janis said back, “I also know that thanks to my culture, with what I was taught from a young age about the people of my home…I didn’t have to hide it. I just existed. And then I came over to the mainland and all of a sudden it’s a big deal.”

“I love that you’re so…you.” You laughed awkwardly, “Okay that’s so random, you get it, right? Like I went out to lunch with a girl from my class in freshmen year and I kept thinking people were staring at me because they were thinking that I was on a date. But no it wasn’t. At that point I wasn’t even out yet, but I knew that I definitely liked girls. I just wasn’t sure yet if I only liked girls.”

“Trying to figure that out can be tough, honey.” Janis nodded, remembering her own experience. “It’s like, it’s a natural attraction for us but actually knowing that it has a label? Like woah.” 

————

“Well, this is you, pretty girl.” Janis’ car slowed to a stop in front of your house— almost four hours later.

“Thanks for driving me home.”

“Of course.” Janis flashes you a smile, “Good night, y/n.” 

“Night, Janis.” You smiled back, “Thanks for dinner.” 

“Anytime, y/n. Anytime.” Janis leaned closer to you and just held your face in her hand, “And um, tonight’s not a date. I’ll be texting you soon about the deets for our very first one”

“Feels like it to me.” You sulked, “What do you mean it wasn’t?”

She laughed, stroking your cheek, “Okay, but officially, officially— we’re going to this ceramic painting thing on Friday.” 

“Oh.” You smiled excitedly, “On Friday?”

“Mhm.” She confirmed, chuckling at your excitement, “We have a half day so I’ll pick you up at 3 if you wanna change or anything.”

“Alrighty, sounds good.” You nodded, face still in her hand. Inches away from hers. Janis tilted her head as if it was a silent ask. You gave her a look and she just smooched you on the cheek, the kiss soft and sweet. Fluttering like it was a butterfly— kinda tickled, but not enough to make you laugh,

“Good night, Janis.” You told her, in a hurry to get out of her sight because you felt like you were going to explode or die from embarrassment because your cheeks got so hot.

“Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

Best night ever? Yeah. 

You couldn’t wait for Friday. You also couldn’t wait to go back to school tomorrow— you were going to be able to see her every other class thanks to your schedule for that day. So you were beyond happy about that, and to have some level of normalcy in your life again.

Friday rolled around pretty quick, and you were relieved because the school week was over. Once the last bell let out, you rushed to Janis’ locker. Damian beat you to it. “Hey, girl.” 

“Oh!” You gasped, “Hi. I’m just— waiting for—”

“Janis? I know.” He laughed, “This is exciting. About time, though.”

You bit back a laugh, “Okay. Good to see you too, I uh— I’m a little nervous, not gonna lie.”

“Oh, don’t be. She really likes you.”

“I know, it’s just. A thing—”

“First date?” He asked knowingly.

You nodded, sulking. “So?”

“You’ll be fine—”

“Hey, dude. What’re ya saying to her that’s got her sulking.” Janis appeared, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Nothing bad, y’all.” He clutched his chest dramatically, “Just assuring her that everything is gonna be fine. She’s nervous.”

“Damian!” You chided.

“What? She’s gonna know anyway.” 

“I’ll see you on Sunday.” Janis said, looking at Damian, “Leave her alone.”

You decided your outfit was fine so you just followed Janis to her place. She lived in the garage, she pretty much had her own little apartment in this space. “This is pretty cool.” 

“Happened because of a ‘my roof my rules’ argument. This garage is a separate building, so it’s technically my roof.” Janis explained, “I’m just gonna get changed real quick then we can go, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Take your time.” You slowly sat on her couch. You hear her walking behind you and the sound of a door opening— her wardrobe. Obviously you knew that she was getting changed so you just stared at whatever was in front of you. “Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” She nearly snorted. 

“Just waiting for you, Janis. I’m okay.” 

She changed into this fluffy green and black striped cropped sweater, and dark grey ripped jeans. Then, her usual black Converses were swapped out for dark green ones. “Let’s go.” She took your hand into hers and walked the short distance to her car like this with you.

During the drive, you two just chatted about anything that came to mind. You and Janis were so engrossed in the conversation that you didn’t even realise that you were already at the workshop. 

You picked out a mug, and so did she. You were just having fun with your painting but Janis was absolutely in her element. You knew she was an artist, and you’ve seen her art pieces…you’ve just never seen her in action. You never thought you would. You could not believe you were on a date with Janis ’Imi’ike.

“You painting that for me?” She snickered.

“Are you?” You went along with it.

“Actually, yeah.” Janis smiled, taking a sneaky peek at you.

“Oh.”

“Don’t be so surprised.” Janis chuckled, “If you’re that surprised by this, what’s gonna happen during my next surprise?”

“Your next—”

She had this mischievous grin on her face again, it was awfully endearing. 

“I’m just waiting to ask you out again, y/n.” That grin doesn’t leave her face. She glances at you then was equally quick to return her focus to her little project. Two hours and two painted mugs later, you walked out of there with paint splatters all over your white t-shirt. Most of which were intentionally done by Janis to make you laugh. It worked, and also pretty much got a new shirt— kinda. It actually looked good. 

“You wanna go for pizza?”

“Not really.” You answered, still holding her hand. 

“Not hungry?” Janis asked, checking the time on her watch.

“Not with my head trying to kill me.” 

“Let’s go home.” Janis looked at you sadly, snaking a careful arm around your waist while the both of you walked through the lot to locate her car. “You okay to spend the night?”

“Yeah, definitely better than being home and having to hear my Dad yell at her. They got into it again last night.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about it for the night at least. It’ll be nice and quiet at mine.” Janis kissed the back of your hand. Hearing the chirp of her car, you opened the passenger door promptly and got seated. Janis also wasted no time and began driving once you had buckled your seatbelt. “Do you mind if I nap?” 

“No, not at all. But, if the headache’s are still going on…it’s been two weeks already. Might be a good thing to tell your doctor that.” 

“I’ll call Monday.” You answered quietly, eyes half open. 

“Alright.” She didn’t press for more information out of you, obviously. You were uncomfortable right now with the persistent headache after the concussion. Fucking Shane. 

You woke up right as Janis stopped the car and turned the engine off. “Right on time.” She smiled sweetly, “Let’s get you settled then you can get some proper sleep.” 

“What? It’s so early.” You couldn’t help but laugh a bit. 

“A proper nap. After you take something for your headache.” She corrected herself, taking you by the hand and leading you inside the house through the front door, “Just grabbing the meds, water and something to eat so it doesn’t hurt your stomach. Ibuprofen might work better for you if Tylenol doesn’t help.

You didn’t object, knowing she was most likely right. Also the pain, was a little too much right now. That tended to make you a little more withdrawn than usual. “Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor? Because a head injury is no joke—”

“I’m good, I just need to tough it out.” 

You sat down on Janis' bed, she handed you a granola bar and you unwrapped it so you could eat it, and the ibuprofen then take a nap. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Need anything else?”

You silently shook your head. After eating half of the bar, you popped the pill into your mouth and gulped the pill with a swig of water. “If you want to change into something more comfy…I’ve got you covered.”

“It’s okay, Jan. I just want to sleep this off.”

Janis sat next to you, ultimately deciding to lay down next to you. “I’m sorry you’re in pain.” 

“I’ll be okay.” You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to lay on your side. You met her gaze. She caresses your cheek, “It’s okay if you don’t feel good , you know? Don’t have to hide it with me. I wanna help you.”

You exhaled slowly, licking your lips. A painful lump was forming in your throat. You swallowed harshly, “I know, it’s just not easy for me to…ask…for help.”

“That’s alright, I know this feeling. You’re okay. I promise, you’re safe with me.”

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[necroliberty]

This rambling is for someone entirely different now. And because I like the idea of broomie turning into Onyx. The creator of this art, the amazing @lenainris , said Onyx appears when Ink doesn't take care of broomie. So For The Forgotten Ones fan, we are safe.

So first, I am going to use gacha art to show what I think they would look like. At least in my multiverse. I based Ink on the art of making Ink Stones and how in Mushi-shi, one mushi was in an ink stone, another one who is actually sealed into the kanji characters (which is super cool) and the other ate old scrolls, lol. Though the last one is more of a pet because he eats scrolls that will no longer be able to hold onto the second mushi mentioned. I mainly used those 3 ideas for my Ink called Stone (because Ink Stone). Stone is way more logical leveled. Normally, Ink is kind of a chaos gremlin that needs vials to feel any emotions. But for Stone, it's more like a weekly dose to keep his soul from shattering on the spot. I generally don't like using the more mainstream idea because it generally feels randomly tacked on especially when mentioned by name. So, I decided that instead of using the Kintsugi technique, I would try to find something else. Mainly, the Shinemawa use in shrines and sacred sites. I mainly thought his soul could be seen as sacred and meant to protect it from dangers. Also he could be seen as a Kami based on this video the title is clickbaity though (it's mainly because Kamis like most polytheist dieties are representation of events so they are generally dangerous and flighty while also warm and protective. They serve a role but aren't characters like we would use them now.) This is Stone Ink by the way took me a while.

Okay, so for Onyx or at least my portrayal of the cute little been. Is that well? As said before, Stone would have mainly used broomie as a tool, not even calling it that. It's just a broom with chisel at the end. Nothing more, nothing less. He cares a lot for his favorite tool, but that is it. So when a creator gives the chance for the brush to come alive, it does. Wanting to feel what it is like to be loved and be seen as more. Also while Stone Ink represents Canon and rules. This Onyx would more represent the Fanon and wild side of creation. The what I am doing right now. So I am calling him Yokai because if Kamis are worship, Yokai are the unknown element of it all. Though in my multiverse, I guess Stone just did an eyelight roll and started to work on Yokai Onyx. Is role might be less open-minded than normal Inks. But it is needed. You need to put boundaries and limits to make a more lived in world. And this is Yokai Onyx, I made him more fluffy animal like. Because animals don't care for humans made up rules.

Meet my Oc Onyx. He's literally Ink's paintbrush that was turned into a monster skeleton by a Creator.

Finally after so much time I feel motivated and have the courage again to publish things related to him. So expect a lot of content with him.

(For those who know him. Yes, he's back.)

Onyx belong to me

[cozymochi]

🌻 >:)

IM FOUND ONE OF THESE MEMES IN MY DRAFts! Im gonna rank my experiences in the major fandoms i’ve engaged with.

🩵 YUGIOH! - Second longest running fascination. Upside!! Made life long friends. DOWNSIDE!! Was my first go at online engagement and in those 10 years so much happened that I still can’t help but feel a little sour. …Though ygo back in the day wasn’t good at tag comments, so I didn’t even know those were a thing for years until I branched out. 5/10. But grows to a 7/10 because i’ve settled into a niche area with so few people that it’s now a silly little club. 💕

🧡 Dragon Ball/Z - GENUINE CHAOS. Started off slow but intensified hard cuz get who got involved while Super was airing??? (I didn’t watch it lol), so the discourse and fighting was at an all time high. I have no idea how I even survived this in retrospect. My slight association with people netted me troll asks and my liking of Yamcha also set me up for those. …and frequent art reposting, and quite a few bizarre interactions. Pretty sure my art and edits have circulated more in latin america than I even know. This was also pre-tumblr purge so the amount of nsfw that got thrown my way is… something. That said!! Made also really good friends 💕 and DB/Z probably desensitized me to longer form discussions. 5/10 for insanity, but 8/10 for good reception and VERY PEAK and generous humans.

I think dbz hardened me.

💚 Invader Zim- started off fun (mostly irl with my friendo from days of YGO), but quickly devolved into territory that tested my patience. WHY ON EARTH THIS SERIES’ CONSUMERS had such a huge morality high ground base is beyond me. It’s this fandoms fault I learned about certain modern day online discourse terms and what instilled an irrational posting fear for a year lol. Fun at first and there’s super creative and receptive folk (then those people got kicked out) and left the most insufferable beings imaginable. There’s no in between. Shoutout to all 3 friends made who are still peak. 3/10, if I ever finish any remaining projects or decide to bite the bullet and show completed work, i’m not engaging again. The base just skews somewhere I can’t handle. Which is crazy given the ABOVE contenders have, on paper, done so much more.

dbz hardened me but iz weakened me. Which is probably why i need the formers bootcamp back. Don’t think I’m as fearful now, but i’ll still be salty.

💜 Twisted Wonderland - this is a work in progress experience. Will require further evaluation if all of the above experiences haven’t set my standards. Will stay in my corner. So far it’s 6/10 in vibes (they’re much calmer than the last one), tho I question how much of the interest is from what i do vs. what I did for others. Haven’t shared a ton of opinions yet and god knows lol we don’t want that /s. Still recovering from the former making me wanna just not do much. Baby steps I suppose.

💙 - Sonic The Hedgehog: This is a cheat, I have never interacted with the fandom directly (purely by happenstance, so thankfully no traces exist), but I have been into this since I was a child with no issues. So by default this is the best one. 10/10, didn’t engage, but I do lurk. Though all the stuff I see on tweeter isn’t exactly anything out of the norm for fandoms in general to do, so it weirds me out that people rag on this one for just kinda talking amongst themselves about innocuous things.

“omg this fandom is arguing over QUILL length ughhh can they never be pleased [30 yt videos about this drop]” ngl, this just feels like par for the course junk fandoms do. It really feels no different from DBZ where people go ham about the art style changes and which one is better. Or stupid shit in IZ where they fight about comics vs movie vs show. Like??? The only major difference here is that StH has more people in it (by the millions).

So literally nothing these folk do or say strikes me as anything more serious than what other fandoms already do??? Its just more outsiders see it then churn out content and perpetuate something worse from what’s honestly….pretty tame stuff. Maybe it’s just twitter’s setup given that’s all folk talk about.

[varilien]

wednesday was the 1000th day since the fateful afternoon my roommate asked to see the space cowboy show i apparently used to talk about a lot and i wanted to do a big illustrated piece to celebrate but my job keeps me from drawing anything at all !!!!!!!

anyways i've been missing vash so so so so so bad u guys can anybody hear me it's so dark in here.

lines also cuz i really like how his hair turned out :3 reminds me of the couple shoujo manga i read as a kid teehee

[thegreatyin]

the world's least normal trio of ambition protagonists

[jesi-jess]

OKAY THINK I CAN POST SOME THOUGHTS NOW, I've screamed out loud enough.

BELOW THE LINE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR CHAP 7, namely my thoughts over it all. If you don't wanna be spoiled read the chapter above before continuing this post.

So first off the entire begin with Soldier and seeing buff Merasmus just made me feral and laugh so fucking hard. The old man wizard also having a tattoo of Jones was so sweet but also being the overlord of the prison like god damn.

But like man then SEEING THE WHOLE FAMILY COME IN, I was not ready for that, they were all as goofy as expected but it was so cute and they all just made the perfect chaotic family imagined.

Then GOD DAMN HEAVY THO, HOLY SHIT. That beard just suits him so well. Sir.... SIR. I am lost in the sauce, I'm smooching, in my head Medic smooching, hell anyone wanna be smooching. Help.

THEN SEEING SCOUT BE SO CUTE AND HONEST ABOUT DECIDING HE IS GONNA MOVE ON FROM PAULING THO???? Idk kinda left me like okay that is so far then her being supportive like "Yes there is defs way more hotter ladies than me, go get some hot ladies Scout." JUST HONESTLY? Like I do like Scout x Pauling but I also don't mind it not becoming canon, cause them being the best pals for one another just feels so nice like help.

Ngl though following the ENTIRE part about the Admin, just left me like....

On one hand I enjoyed it but on the other hand was so out of no where I didn't know what to even think once that arc of it was done. Like straight up she is the mama of the brothers and crazy, never told why she is truly doing it (or I missed it while reading, I'll reread trust me). Wild as fuck. I don't know, like not disappointing but also not sure how to feel. Best way to put it I don't hate it LOL.

And then we get the entire end and seeing EVERYONE AND MOST IMPORTANTLY EVERYONE WAS THERE! Scout becoming like his ma and keeping with all his kids was the sweetest thing, then Spy... SPY! I could go on and on how happy I am with that face reveal. It's funny how I pm pushed my drawing way of him towards that too, I still always look at my commission and the sfm model I loved after that pm is the reveal too. Salt and Pepper older gentleman. Then the others all coming in and seeing the bits of them. PYRO, DEMO, SNIPER, ALL OF THEM.

SNIPER HAVING THE GRAYING IN HIS HAIR SHOWING TOO MADE ME MORE FERAL THAN I REALIZED IT WOULD.

I teared up seeing Spy looking at the photo with that gentle smile, just knowing the mama passed away. Broke my god damn heart. :CCCC

I seriously loved it all though. I think it all is well that ends well, never expected the comic so quick, also was worried how it would come. How it would end? But I think the open end in a way of it all is perfect. It solidified some things, left other things in questions to let us boil off of and enjoy. I didn't feel any thing was pushed in a way that would be damning or upsetting (at least to me). I didn't need confirmed ships or saying the story will continue. I just wanted them alive in the end and happy.

And was it given.

WE FINALLY GOT IT BOIS

IT'S HERE, THE COMIC IS HERE, I AM GOING FERAL

BYE

[monochromeia]

Wangxian high school AU where Lan Wangji thinks that Wei Wuxian is being bullied by Jiang Cheng and keeps standing up for him despite thinking WWX is annoying and neither WWX nor JC tell him that they're brothers because this is infinitely funnier

[captn3]

fairly odd parents still infecting my brain have a redraw

og screenshot ^ im already working on stuff with backgrounds i dont need to make even more

[hayaku14]

gymnast kaito x sharpshooter shinichi meet-cute in the olympics au

[turtleblogatlast]

Thinking about the Don Suave scene and what it means in terms of LGBTQ+ representation because my brain does nothing if not torment me with random topics to ramble about on the regular.

Anyway, I just wanted to ramble about why I like the scene but to get it out of the way - the scene can very easily be interpreted in so many different ways, and all of them are valid. I personally see it as Leo having at least some attraction to a man. And the following is an explanation of my own interpretation and thoughts on it and what it means especially for Leo’s portrayal in the grand scheme of things.

Long-winded interpretation under the cut!

Now, to start with, it’s important to me that in the scene Leo looks at Don Suave in the very beginning and then for the entirety of the rest of the time the man is on screen, Leo’s eyes are closed. Yet, in the end, he is still visibly enamored with Don Suave, happily cuddling up to him as he’s being carried away.

You can very easily interpret this as Leo being spellbound and that’s honestly super valid and I believe he likely was at least somewhat in the beginning, but considering how fast he looked away and how he never looked again, I personally think it makes more sense to read it as Leo just finding the man attractive, at least somewhat. (For the record, I personally headcanon Rise Leo as bisexual with a heavy preference for men, but I want to be blunt when I say that any interpretation is valid. Literally any. Ace, pan, gay, bi, none of the above or a mixture of something new literally all of it is more than okay and fair. Hell you could even interpret this entire scene as more romantic attraction than physical and it would still work. Anything goes!! Don’t bother people, guys, really.)

The main reason I take this scene to be at the very least LGBTQ+ adjacent isn’t just because of how it’s portrayed, but because of who Leonardo is. Not in terms of Rise of the TMNT, but in terms of the entire Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles™️ franchise.

Leo’s a character who, while changing with each iteration, has still at his core been around for decades upon decades as “the blue one”. One fourth of the team. He’s the one most are going to look at as the Leader, and oftentimes he is the one closest to having the title of Main Character. Not to say the others aren’t just as important, but Leo’s presence in the A plots of basically all TMNT media is often something very main character-esque.

And that’s very, very important to note. Here we have a Main Character of a prolific and decades long-running franchise distributed by a children’s television network. You can play around with his and his brothers’ characters all you like, but there is always going to be challenges to dodge around, especially since this was still in 2018-2019.

For example, you can play around with their designs so long as they’re color coded turtles, but their sexualities? Now that’s tricky.

“But what about Hypno and Warren?” Not main characters and also they’re Rise originals. They have a lot more room to play around with than a character like Leo does. But even talking about main characters in the franchise, you could arguably have an easier time playing around with Donnie or Mikey’s sexualities than Leo or even Raph, as (unfortunately) the former two tend to get more B plots, so they’d likely have had a little more leeway (still not a lot though.)

So, where does this leave us?

It leaves us in a place where outright stating and/or showing undeniable proof of Leo’s attraction to men is very, very difficult. So, workarounds!

Workarounds like the entire Don Suave situation.

To be honest, as left up to interpretation and lowkey and deniable as it is, this whole scene means a lot to me because of who Leo is as a character. It’s just nice when we get so see even the bare bones of representation with characters that have been such a large part of pop culture for decades, y’know? Even if more would be so much nicer, this is better than I thought we’d ever get for these boys.

And, again, literally nothing I’ve said is the only way to interpret it, I’m more than happy when people interpret media on their own honestly, it’s just something I’ve been thinking of lately and I was wondering if others felt the same way.

Whatever you think when you interpret this scene or Rise Leo as a whole, I just thought this would be interesting to think about, even if it was ramble-y, haha.