#my friend encouraged me to make these first

[ere-the-sun-rises]

Bonus Social Lifehack (and honestly, a rule to live by): It is often infinitely more important to avoid being rude than it is to be actively pleasant. It is okay and sometimes even preferable to be neutral, and that does not make you "less authentic".

Most social interaction works on scripts (taught through the norms of manners, etiquette and pleasantries), and these are the grease that makes the mechanics of interaction smoother. We often don't need to "be/express our true selves", and it can be unwelcome - the retail employee doesn't care if you don't like this shirt, they want do their job and move on. Expressing your true thoughts is often unnecessary, especially to strangers.

Following social scripts gets you into, through, and out of social interactions in an expected, acceptable and fluid way.

In gathering-type situations where you are expected to mingle with people you don't know (/well) or are meeting for the first time, this also applies. Follow the flow of Greet -> Trade Pleasantries -> Give Time/Small Talk -> Acknowledge -> Move On.

Greet -> "Hi, how are you?"

Trade Pleasantries -> "Yeah, I'm doing good. Work always keeps me busy, y'know?"

Give Time/Small Talk -> "My drive in was bad too. Four accidents or something, pushed thr traffic way back." | "Oh, I have a frienx who lives there! He lives it."

Acknowledge -> "It was really nice to see/meet you!"

Move On -> "I've taken up enough of your time, though. I'll let you get back to your conversation. I'll see you around!"

(P.S. This is a great formula for meeting a partner's family/friends. Good impressions are made by the absence of rudeness and a gentle confidence in handling social interaction, not necessarily how "nice/good" you are as a person - that judgment comes later, from your actions and the way you hold yourself. First impressions allow people to judge whether they want to let you in further, not a litmus test for your whole personality.)

Bonus Bonus Social Lifehack: People like to talk about themselves, so if you have nothing to say or are nervous af, encourage them to talk about themselves/something they're interested in. You don't have to genuinely be interested - even polite/neutral encouragements will be positively received.

when you're autistic and you learn how to smalltalk it literally feels like you started hacking real life

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[jxwl4k]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ her .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

⤿ Bakugou Katsuki never believed in sappy romance, until he fell for you.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t believe in “love at first sight.” It was stupid, unrealistic, and just another distraction. But the first time he saw you—quiet, calm, and completely immersed in a book under the shade of a tree—his world shifted. He didn’t understand it at first, chalking it up to curiosity. But as days turned into weeks, and his glances turned into stolen moments of admiration, he realized he was absolutely gone.

His friends noticed immediately.

“Bro, you’re staring again,” Kaminari teased, smirking.

“Shut up,” Bakugou growled, his ears turning red.

“Just talk to her already!” Kirishima encouraged.

“She’s way out of his league,” Mina chimed in with a playful grin.

He didn’t need their commentary. Bakugou Katsuki was explosive, fearless, and confident in every aspect of his life—except when it came to you.

When he finally gathered the courage to approach you, he was awkward and gruff, masking his nervousness with his usual bravado. “Oi, you dropped this,” he muttered, holding out your pen that you hadn’t even noticed fell.

Your soft “Thank you” and the smile that followed made his heart skip a beat. From then on, he made it his mission to be near you—walking you to class, sitting with you during lunch, and eventually asking you out in the most Bakugou way possible.

“You’re mine now, got it?” he declared one day, his cheeks bright red.

You laughed, nodding. “Got it.”

Years had passed since high school, and Bakugou’s love for you only grew stronger. You were his anchor, his peace in a world full of chaos. He didn’t know how to do romance like the movies, but he showed his love in the little things—making sure you ate, walking on the side of the street closer to the cars, and remembering all the small details about you.

When he proposed, it wasn’t extravagant. It was just the two of you, sitting on the balcony of your shared apartment, watching the sunset.

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, sliding a simple, elegant ring onto your finger before you could even process what was happening.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, before laughing. “You didn’t even let me say yes.”

“Like you’d say no,” he shot back, smirking.

And you didn’t.

Now, standing at the altar, Bakugou was the picture of confidence. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, and his usual scowl was replaced by a nervous determination. He had told himself he wouldn’t cry.

What kind of man cries at his wedding? he had thought, rolling his eyes at the idea.

But then, the doors opened, and you stepped in.

The world seemed to stop.

Your dress was perfect, accentuating everything he loved about you. The way you smiled at him, your eyes glistening with tears, made his heart ache in the best way.

Suddenly, he felt warmth on his cheek.

A tear.

Bakugou blinked, confused for a moment. He never cried. Not when he won his first big fight, not when he graduated, not ever. But now, standing here, looking at you—his future, his everything—he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Bakugou’s crying,” Kirishima whispered from his spot as a groomsman, his eyes widening.

“Oh my God, I knew this would happen,” Mina gasped, quickly pulling out her phone. “Take a picture, Denki! We’ll frame it!”

“Shut up!” Bakugou snapped, his voice low but venomous, though it didn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck. His glare was nowhere near as sharp as usual, the overwhelming emotion softening even his most dangerous expression.

“Don’t worry, man. This is for the memories,” Kaminari whispered back, grinning as he snapped a picture anyway.

As you reached him, your soft laughter bubbled up when you noticed the commotion. “Are they messing with you?” you asked quietly, taking his hands.

“They’re idiots,” he muttered, squeezing your hands tightly. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and his voice softened, thick with emotion. “But I don’t care. You look… perfect.”

“I love you, Katsuki,” you whispered, your own eyes glistening.

“I love you more,” he said, his voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill again.

The ceremony continued, filled with laughter and love. As Kaminari quietly showed Mina the photo he had taken, they both shared a grin.

“Man, he’s so whipped,” Kaminari whispered.

“And it’s the cutest thing ever,” Mina replied with a smile.

And Bakugou? He didn’t care about the teasing, the jokes, or the photos. His entire world was standing right in front of him, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

You were his everything.

[brown-little-robin]

I think I'm in the "conscious incompetence" stage of being a social animal in the real world and it sucks so majorly. bro what do you do after you realize you're bad at socializing and then in-person interaction gets harder because you know you're failing at it now.

[kinthulou]

This is all so so so true! I have had so many friends be too shy or anxious to share their writing with me because I'd shared mine first, and I'm always having to tell them that the only reason I'm so good at the writing thing? It's because I've been doing it since I was old enough to hold a pencil. Stories have been my Autistic Special Interest (TM) since I learned to read when I was two years old. All I've got that my friends don't is time and practice and I would never ever judge them for just starting out. I want to see their stories! I want them to feel encouraged and motivated to keep practicing! It's an art form!

And this is a shyness that I know super well from a different art form. My entire immediate family is incredibly talented in the music sphere. And I do mean talented--my youngest sib had no music lessons whatsoever and taught themself how to play piano and violin incredibly quickly. Middle sib picked up guitar as a teen like it was nothing. The mother unit was a stellar soprano in church choir, and the father unit, who was raised by a music teacher and so had a lot of encouragement and probably all the lessons he wanted, is not only a fantastic singer but can pick up any instrument for the first time and within ten minutes have figured out how to get music out of it. I had lessons galore. Lots of instruments. Choirs to join. All the encouragement. Almost none of it stuck. I was awful at music. Couldn't sight read music to save my life--and still can't, turns out I had an undiagnosed-at-the-time learning disability that impacts that skill--couldn't figure out my way around a string instrument, and my singing voice was so terrible I was constantly being told to stop.

Fast forward to last night, when I was listening back through a recording of a song I'd learned on ukulele last week. There were plenty of flaws in my performance, but when I listened to the vocal warm-up, in which I just sang the song a cappella to make sure my voice was good to go and I didn't need to refresh on the melody?

Fucking blew me away. You guys? Somewhere along the way I got good at singing? Like actually, legit, super pleasant to listen to, would buy an album of this stuff if it wasn't MY OWN VOICE, that kind of good????? What????? My music skills are catching up to my writing skills! I have more talent in writing than music, which is why there was a gap between getting good at writing and starting to get good at the music, but like. Just keep at it, everyone. It's just practice. Once day you'll look at your art, whatever its form, and be blown away by how far you've come. You just have to be willing to let go of perfection and give yourself the chance to try!

So earlier in art class today, someone drew a characters hands in their pockets and mentioned that hands are really like the ultimate end boss of art, and most of us wholeheartedly agreed. So then, our teacher went ahead and free handed like a handful of hands on the board, earning a woah from a couple of students. So the one from earlier mentioned how it barely took the teacher ten seconds to do what I can’t do in three hours. And you know what he responded?

“It didn’t take me ten seconds, it took me forty years.”

And you know, that stuck with me somehow. Because yeah. Drawing a hand didn’t take him fourth years. But learning and practicing to draw a hand in ten seconds did. And I think there’s something to learn there but it’s so warm and my brain is fried so I can’t formulate the actual morale of the lesson.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hey i was wondering if itd be cool if i drew your abortion road trip lovers? and if it is cool do you have physical descriptions for them or general vibes or can i just make shit up?

lmaooooo @birdy-brained and I came up with whole character concepts for them, there's not a LOT in the way of physical descriptors but these are the vibes as I've been imagining them

Lids (he/him)

pregnant (uh oh)

5 foot nothing on a good day

hoped that T would give him a beard but he's got two (2) chin hairs

likes tattoos but doesn't have any cause he's Scared of needles (does his T in gel form)

pocketknife collection

wears a lot of ripped jeans + Don't Look At Me hoodies

fun patches though

acne

lives in a queer housing co-op from hell

can't drive

ANXIETY!!!!!

works as a 24/7 gas station cashier (hates it but kind of loves it)

Buck (they/them)

the sperm donor (rip)

6 foot two inches+

long hair (either wears it loose or a messy half bun) + mustache + short beard

covered in shitty tattoos; does stick and pokes as a side hustle

playing acoustic guitar in the coffee shop

dresses like a thrift store fucked a ren fair

likes big skirts

smudged eyeliner + chipped nail polish

lives with their former bandmates who tried to be a polycule then broke up and now they're not a band anymore :/

van friend

lethally chill. like, kind of pisses people off with how chill they are? please stand up for yourself, Buck.

has like five side hustles and 0 regular job

they fucked at a house show; they were both there because Lids' housemate's metamour's sister's boyfriend's college roommate was playing and Buck is friends with the college roommate.

anyway you absolutely 100% don't have to draw them like this, it's nowhere in the actual post and you're so free to imagine them however you want!! I strongly encourage that, this is just how the characters have shaped up for me since I first wrote the idea down lmao

also I'm tagging this as "abort mission" because that's what my housemate and I started calling the idea

[jnnul]

if i say...i love you!

a/n: i saw the if i say i love you trailer and i am a CHANGED WOMAN. was going to make this for taesan but there aren't enough loser leehan fics out there. cranked this out in one day so if there any grammatical errors, pls let me know <3 quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 7.4k

tags: high school au!, losers in love, leehan is referred to donghyun, dongmin is a character accurate loser + menace, jihyo han/jihan best girl!, the bnd boys are chaotic and stupid, leehan is in LOVE, warnings: none!

THERE'S A FAT CHANCE THAT YOU'RE GOING TO ACCEPT KIM DONGHYUN'S CONFESSION.

at least, this is what han dongmin says when donghyun lays out his plan in front of his best friend.

"why?" donghyun whines, looking down at his hasty scribbles on his blueprint. "what's wrong with the plan?"

dongmin rolls his eyes, not even looking down at the blueprint (which donghyun had literally drawn out his plan on blue paper to make the entire situation more official - but dongmin just thinks its childish, if not a little adorable) as he pads into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"well for starters, i'm fairly sure that y/n can't read what you've written," dongmin says, two packets of goldfish richer when he returns.

donghyun frowns as he looks down at the paper before groaning, realizing that the hieroglyphics he'd written in place of legible letters were definitely far from interpretation.

"what do i do?" donghyun bemoans, dragging out each syllable. "by the time i work up the courage to confess to her again, we'll all be senior citizens instead seniors in high school!"

dongmin snorts before finally giving the 'blueprint' a solid look to decipher exactly what donghyun's plan was.

"your plan is to get down on your knees before first period and ask her out in front of the entire class with - are those chocolates or suspiciously small grenades? - chocolates and flowers? and you think that she's going to be first of all, comfortable with this and second of all, willing to say yes?" dongmin shakes his head, shoving a handful of goldfish into his mouth. "even if she does have feelings for you, she'll probably say no just because of this plan."

donghyun lets out another groan as he lays on the floor, cursing his luck. when he'd run the plan by jaehyun, the older had said that it was the perfect plan. although, if myung jaehyun thought that this was a good way to ask someone out, that really should've been donghyun's first sign of danger.

"also did you even need an entire sketch for this? i mean, it seems pretty straightforward," dongmin says, barely dodging assault by very well aimed marker.

"well, if you're done snarking on my plan, can't you help me figure out how to ask her out?" donghyun says, flipping over to serve dongmin his killer move - puppy eyes. the motion is clearly lost on dongmin when he just shovels more goldfish into his mouth but after a painfully long moment of chewing dongmin moves from the couch to the floor.

"alright, alright, fine...here's what you're gonna do..."

TRIAL ONE: DONGMIN'S PLAN

"hey jihyo," donghyun says casually, nodding to you as he spoke with your best friend, han jihyo. it was 7:30 in the morning and while donghyun usually couldn't be bothered to woken up before 7:45 in the morning (when he would eventually be yelled at by his mother and then scramble to get to school), he felt surprisingly excited to get up early in the morning to get to the school.

jihyo looks at donghyun confusedly as she takes her seat right next to you, where you had your textbooks open in front of you, just like he knew you would. "hey donghyun. what's up?"

donghyun shrugs, trying his best not to look at you scribbling away as he converses with jihyo. "nothing much. i was just wondering if you were busy later today? dongmin got us tickets to watch a movie but our friends dropped out."

"which movie?" jihyo asks, eyes sparking up at the mention of donghyun's best friend.

"uh..." donghyun wracks his brain, trying to come up with a movie name on the spot. dongmin hadn't prepared him enough! "interstellar?"

"are you asking me or telling me?" jihyo says, just barely suppressing her laugh. next to her, you look like you're in a similar situation, eyes bright and sparkly with the efforts to not completely laugh in his face.

while donghyun would usually take this in a win in itself, he decided to push his luck just a bit further. "i'm telling you; it's dongmin's favorite movie."

he pretends to ignore the subtle elbow jab that you offer to jihyo, fighting down the corners of his lips that keep creeping upwards. perhaps this plan could help donghyun and dongmin - two birds one stone. even if in this situation, dongmin was completely oblivious to jihyo's affections...

"yeah, i'm free later on," jihyo says before turning to you, her hair covering her face so donghyun can't see her facial expression as she's speaking with you. "you're free too, right y/n? you're coming with us?"

"i mean, i am free but i don't want to intrude. we don't even know if dongmin has enough tickets," you point out, a little shy as you look anywhere but donghyun and jihyo - which is a little hard considering that jihyo is practically in your face and donghyun is a good two meters tall (or at least, that's what it feels like).

"i have tickets," dongmin says, announcing his presence with an arm slung around donghyun's shoulder.

"perfect! so then we'll meet you guys in the courtyard at the end of school," jihyo says, fluttering her eyelashes not so subtly at the sight of the large man currently dangling off of donghyun.

he flashes an 'ok' sign as the two boys make their way to the back of the classroom, dongmin snickering at donghyun's dazed expression.

neither of them realize that you've turned around in your seat, a soft look in your eyes as you steal glances at donghyun.

+++

"i hate you," donghyun mutters under his breath. dongmin slaps his forehead with the heel of his palm, staring at the tickets in his other hand.

"you didn't exactly give me enough time to secure four tickets to interstellar of all movies," dongmin hisses, turning to flash a sweet smile to jihyo and you, waiting in the line patiently for some popcorn as the boys stood outside the theatre.

"well you didn't prepare me with a movie name! i did the best i could," donghyun whispers back, pulling dongmin to the side when an older couple tries to enter the theatre behind them.

"yes, and now look. we've got four tickets scattered across the hall," dongmin says, waving the tickets in donghyun's face.

donghyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tries to figure out a solution to the situation.

"what if we just bounce and do something else? there's no point in watching the movie if we're all gonna be on opposite sides of the theatre," donghyun says and dongmin frowns, looking down at the tickets once more.

"wait wait...there's two seats that are next to each other. it's just the other two that are on the opposite sides of the theatre," dongmin says, pointing out the seat numbers on the tickets.

"so y/n and i will sit in those seats, and then you and jihyo will sit on opposite sides of the theatre?" donghyun asks, reaching out to grab the tickets when dongmin draws his hand back quickly, holding them out of reach.

"what happened?" you ask, voice soft and gentle as you and jihyo walk up to the boys with arms filled with popcorn and soft drinks.

donghyun and dongmin exchange a look before handing over the tickets sheepishly. jihyo takes the tickets with furrowed brows after handing over (dumping) the soft drinks in dongmin's arms.

"hm. okay, give me one sec, i'll text you guys," she says somewhat mysteriously before disappearing into the theatre where trailers were playing.

"uh...i feel like one of us should go with her," donghyun says before pushing dongmin through the door behind her. the bewildered look on his face is quickly covered by the doors that cover him in darkness.

the giggle that leaves your mouth might as well been a choir of angels by the way that donghyun feels weak in the knees, unable to tear his away from your frame.

"here, let me hold that," donghyun says, gently taking the larger than life tub of popcorn from your arms. you thank him shyly, tugging your jacket over your shoulders.

"do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" you ask, a faint warmth in your cheeks. donghyun nods, tossing a kernel of popcorn into his mouth.

"i've learned that you should be kept far far away from horror movies," donghyun says cheekily. you pout, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"no one warned me that there would be that many jump scares," you complain, chewing on a piece of popcorn.

"i remember how you were shaking while the murderer was searching the house," donghyun laughs, dodging when you reach out to slap his arm. "you wouldn't let go of my arm until the murderer was put in a jail cell."

you clear your throat, trying to will away the heat that was building on your nape and cheeks. "interstellar doesn't have any jump scares does it?"

you look up to meet donghyun's eyes, only to realize that they're already looking into yours. big, bright, sparkly and looking at you as if he's trying to commit every detail about you to memory.

"no, no jump scares," he says softly, and suddenly you get the feeling that you're stumbling into a territory you've never explored before as he draws closer to you.

"um, that's good," you whisper, the moment suddenly too intimate to speak. donghyun looks at you for just a second too long before stepping back when there's a buzz in your pocket.

"dongmin and jihyo?" he asks, shoveling more popcorn into his mouth before you walked in, knowing that dongmin was prone to eating everything in sight when watching movies.

you nod, reading the text message out loud. "jihyo somehow convinced two people to switch seats so we've got seats all next to each other."

"cool. let's head inside then," donghyun says, the warmth of his body leaving yours. he pauses just before he enters the dark theatre, looking at you with a soft smile.

"and y/n? even if there aren't any jump scares, feel free to hold onto my arm."

+++

"what happened afterwards?" kim woonhak asks, sprawled out on park sungho's bed. sungho reaches over to smack him on the arm when woonhak opens up a bag of cheetos, only to spill them all over his bed.

"nothing, obviously. the fool started getting so into the movie that that's all he would talk about for a good hour before y/n said she had to go home and study," dongmin says, slapping donghyun upside the head when donghyun starts to contest his recollection of the situation.

"you're really stupid," lee sanghyeok says, accepting the packet of haribo gummy bears that jaehyun throws in his general direction.

"sure. but this is all because i listened to dongmin's idea. i was supposed to ask her out at the end of the movie in some weird, complicated speech that dongmin came up with," donghyun protests.

"see, that's your issue," sanghyeok says, wincing when woonhak rips the head off of a gummy bear as he eats it. "i don't know why you'd listen to the least romantic person in this room about how to ask a girl out."

"then what do you think i should do?" donghyun asks.

"well, as the only person out all of you fools with a girlfriend, here's what i think you should do," sanghyeok starts, holding up an ipad with a drawing on it.

"when the two of you are cleaning the classroom after classes..."

TRIAL TWO: SANGHYEOK'S PLAN

"uh, what do you mean that y/n's sick?" donghyun says dumbfoundedly. jihyo gives him a weird look as she continues to take down two copies of notes, confirming that y/n is most definitely not at school.

"i mean that she's sick. she caught something from her brother. she's not coming to school today," jihyo repeats, staring at her notes for a moment before continuing to write again.

"oh," donghyun says defeatedly, thanking jihyo before heading to the back of the classroom. dongmin appears in the doorway of the classroom not even two minutes later, lollipop in his mouth as he drops one on jihyo's desk before heading to the back of the classroom to sit down next to donghyun.

jihyo twists in her seat. "this is y/n's favorite flavor. i'll give it to her later when i drop off some soup my dad's making her."

"you're going to y/n's house?" donghyun asks, leaning forward on his elbows, looking like he was pretty close to toppling over the desk and onto the student in front of him.

"uh, yeah." donghyun scrambles out of his seat to head over to the front of the classroom where jihyo was sitting.

"can i come with you?" donghyun asks. jihyo looks at him strangely for a moment before craning her neck to dongmin behind him. it seems whatever she sees is enough to convince her because she nods after a beat of silence.

"sure. you can come too. i'm heading over after we clean the classroom," jihyo says, nodding over to where dongmin was sitting and thumbing through his phone with earbuds in. "bring dongmin too."

"why?" donghyun questions with an innocent expression, backing off when jihyo fixes him with an unimpressed look.

"consider it a favor exchange. my friend for yours."

+++

"you know what, i thought sanghyeok's idea was stupid anyway," sungho says over the phone. donghyun can vaguely hear the sound of weights being lifted and dropped and he figures that his college going friend was likely at the gym when donghyun had emergency called him with a need for a new plan.

"so what do you think i should do? i mean, i only have a couple minutes until jihyo comes out of her house after picking up the soup. how do i come up with a plan in the next three minutes?" donghyun asks worriedly, shoving dongmin away when he sees that dongmin's dangerously close to his phone, trying to figure exactly what sungho was saying on the other end.

"well, clearly food is out of the picture, since you don't have time and because you're a walking hazard when it comes to anything related to a stove," sungho says, more to himself than to donghyun.

"if you could come up with a way to help without snarking on my cooking skills, that would be highly appreciated," donghyun says drily, winding up to kick dongmin when he starts snickering from where he's leaned up against the wall.

"alright, alright. here's what you do, alright? first, when you get to her house..."

TRIAL THREE: SUNGHO'S PLAN

"you've seriously never been to tokyo?" dongmin asks incredulously, his hands shoved in his pockets. jihyo shakes her head, setting down the soup from where she'd just reheated it on your stove.

your parents were out of town on a business trip and according to what she knew about your brother, jihyo figured that park sunghoon was out frolicking around in the snowy streets with his own friends.

"i've never been on a plane before," jihyo explains, satisfied with the heat of the soup finally. dongmin just shrugs, looking around your house with a renewed interest when donghyun pads out of your room to where the other two were standing in the kitchen.

"is she still sleeping?" jihyo asks, trying the soup herself. donghyun nods, rubbing his hands to create some friction and warm them up.

"yeah. she seems to be waking up but i think that she's still pretty out of it right now," donghyun explains before picking up the container of soup. "do you think that you can bring the paracetamol? it looks like y/n has a pretty bad headache."

"how can you tell she has a headache?" dongmin asks, his question turning to a whisper when jihyo looks at him with a withering glare.

"it's called having empathy, han dongmin," jihyo calls out, looking for the paracetamol in one of the medicine cabinets.

"empathy? i have plenty of empathy," dongmin says under his breath sullenly as he follows jihyo into your bedroom.

you're laying in bed, curled up in carefully laid covers, clearly donghyun's work by the way he's examining the bedspread with rather severe scrutiny, as if he's willing the hearts on your bedspread would turn into mini heaters to provide warmth to your sick and tired body. your eyebrows are furrowed, even in your sleep, as though you were fighting away the illness with a physical weapon with effort.

"y/n? you gotta wake up soon. sunghoon said you've been sleeping for hours and that you haven't eaten anything yet," jihyo says, setting the paracetamol down on your nightstand.

"yeah, where is sunghoon anyway?" dongmin asks, watching as donghyun wakes you gently, offering you a smile so sweet, even dongmin feels himself swooning.

"gallivanting on the streets. he's still sick himself but there's no containing the man," you explain, sitting up in your bed. you somehow don't seem all that alarmed that there are so many foreign people in your room, looking worse for the wear.

"here's soup. don't worry, i didn't make it - jihyo's dad did," donghyun says softly, handing the bowl of soup over with so much care, it seemed as though he were handling a live grenade.

you let out a mellow laugh, coughing at the effort as you accept the bowl of soup, letting out a blissful sigh after sipping a spoonful. "tell your dad i said thank you, ji."

jihyo just waves you off, unzipping her backpack to search for her other copy of notes. "here are the notes from today. the biology lecture really gave me a headache so i wouldn't even try to decipher that until you feel better unless you want to feel like a tightrope walker with an anvil on your head."

"that's...really descriptive," dongmin says, laughing when jihyo shoves him.

"i can help you," donghyun says, watching you carefully as you take another sip of soup, thankful for the liquid warming you up from the inside.

"you're willing to sit with me to study biology? are you sure that you don't think it'll be a bother?" you ask, looking up at donghyun through your lashes. donghyun's breath catches in his throat when you do. somehow, even with a runny nose, mussed hair, and granny pajamas, donghyun thinks you look like the vision of beauty.

"it's not a bother to me. spending time with you could never be a bother," donghyun says offhandedly, looking at the label on the paracetamol. it's only when the entire room goes silent does he realize that he'd spoken out loud.

he looks around nervously for a moment before his eyes land on you, staring at him, bright-eyed and every inch the reason why donghyun has trouble sleeping at night these days.

"i mean, you're my friend, right? why would it be a bother to spend time with your friend?" donghyun backtracks and he hears jihyo and dongmin let out a breath behind him. you still look somewhat confused before you nod slowly, finishing your soup.

"friend, right."

+++

"you were at her house and you still fucked it up," woonhak laments, wincing when jaehyun chucks a pillow at him.

"language," the older boy says before flopping on sungho's bed next to woonhak.

"why do you delinquents always have to come to my room? can't we ever hang out in sanghyeok or jaehyun's room? or better yet, why can't we ever hang out at your guys' houses?" sungho complains, but he still sits down next to jaehyun, shoving the two boys a little bit over to make space for himself.

"because your room is the cleanest," sanghyeok points out, never looking up from the homework he was working on at sungho's desk.

"yeah, unfortunately sanghyeok's room is currently serving another purpose," jaehyun snorts.

"what, as a pigsty?" dongmin quips, a smirk drawn out on his lips when sanghyeok fixes him with a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"all of you are useless," donghyun wails, swatting sungho's hands away from his hair. "i've been trying to confess to her for a good week and a half now and all i've managed to do is make a fool out of myself three separate times."

"you didn't make a fool out of yourself, donghyun," woonhak comforts before jaehyun sits up from where he was scrolling on his phone, shaking his head.

"nope, he definitely did. the first time, when dongmin booked four separate tickets and jihyo had to save your ass so you could attempt to confess after the movie, just to ramble about physics and black holes for hours. and then when y/n never showed up to school so you couldn't confess to her while you were cleaning the classroom like sanghyeok suggested. and then when he couldn't even take care of her properly like sungho suggested while she was sick because he can't cook if his life depended on it." woonhak nods when jaehyun finishes his spiel, much to the horror of donghyun, who was now starfish on the floor, looking ready to throw a tantrum.

"yeah, i can see why she would think he's weird," woonhak says with an air of seriousness.

"you guys think she thinks i'm weird?" donghyun cries out dramatically.

"no, otherwise you wouldn't be going to the library together on sunday to go over biology," sanghyeok points out logically, flipping through the pages of his textbook with a crease in his forehead from focusing.

"see, the issue is that all three of those fools are way too subtle with their confessions. sungho's ideas especially was stupid," jaehyun says. "i mean seriously, telling her that you're half in love with her while she's gotta killer migraine must've been the stupidest idea i've ever heard."

"you thought that asking her out in front of the entire class was a good idea," dongmin reminds jaehyun, who just rolls his eyes.

"you guys have no sense of romance."

"i have a girlfriend."

"shut up, sanghyeok."

"damn, alright. i didn't realize all of you were that salty that you're single losers."

"SHUT UP SANGHYEOK!"

after sanghyeok has been served with enough slander for being an insufferable boy in love, woonhak and jaehyun turn to donghyun with twin expressions of evil on their faces.

"you need to man up, donghyun! here's how you tell her that you like her..."

TRIAL FOUR: JAEHYUN AND WOONHAK'S PLAN

"so the reason why this question is phrased this way is because you're supposed to focus on the oxygen affinity for fetuses versus adults based on this curve," donghyun explains patiently, pointing at various points on the diagram in front of him as he speaks.

you nod hesitantly as you follow his hand around the paper before ultimately shaking your head, slumping down on the table.

"i'm sorry donghyun, this entire thing might just end up being a waste of your time. i have no clue what any of this means," you mutter disheartenedly looking at donghyun.

donghyun just shakes his head, smiling as he closes the textbook and stretching. at the table over from the two of you, dongmin and jihyo are bickering about the best my chemical romance instead of studying for english like they'd promised when your teacher announced the upcoming exam on friday.

in the ideal world, dongmin and jihyo would be off being a cute couple (whether they realized it or not) somewhere where donghyun couldn't see them and be jealous but the effervescent feeling he gets from spending time with you is more than enough to douse that jealousy.

"you're shoving a lot of information into your brain. it's hard to get on the fiftieth try, much less the first," donghyun says gently, and you peek up at him, only to cast your gaze elsewhere when you realize just how overwhelming it is to look at him.

it's a warm feeling that spreads through your body as you realize that donghyun looks at you as though you may as well have put the stars in the sky personally for him.

funny. did he ever realize that you looked at him the same way?

but you're left to leave your thoughts with the disarray of papers when donghyun stands up, shrugging his jacket and scarf on.

"come on, let's go get you some coffee," he says, lifting up your jacket to hand it to you. you offer him a small smile as you put your jacket on, following him out of the library once he's stopped and dongmin and jihyo's table to ask them to watch your stuff.

"bring me back a latte!" you faintly hear jihyo whisper-shout, to which donghyun turns around to flash her a thumbs up before leading you out of the library.

the weather outside is surprisingly clear and warm for how much it's snowed over the past few days.

"you didn't put a scarf on?" donghyun chastises, unwrapping his own scarf and draping it around your neck. you try to protest, giving donghyun back his scarf but he just ignores you, expertly ducking and weaving as you try to drape the scarf back on him.

"you're going to get cold!" you exclaim, but you don't fight him when he wraps the scarf around your neck properly.

"you know, i wanted to be your friend since the day i saw you, back in middle school," donghyun says, his breath leaving his lips in clouds as the two of you walked the three blocks between the café and the library.

you wrack your brain, trying to recall the first time that you'd met donghyun. "i thought we met in high school, though? at jihyo's birthday party?"

donghyun just smiles, looking up at the clear skies. "that's when you first saw me. i saw you back in middle school."

"really?" you ask quietly, shocked by the knowledge that donghyun had been thinking about you in whichever capacity for so long.

"yeah. i remember you had braces back then but you still were the prettiest girl in class. you always used to be so quiet and kept to yourself but you were so sweet to everyone around you. i remember when jihyo found out that she was nearsighted, you used to write her notes for her every period until she got glasses. and then again, when she had lasik surgery," donghyun says casually, opening the café door as the two of you enter.

"you - you weren't even in our class," you say, shivering even in the warmth of the café. donghyun seems to notice, by the way that he draws closer to you - so close that you can see the faint freckle by his eye.

"no," he agrees simply. "but i knew anyway."

"you paid that much attention to me?" you ask incredulously. donghyun shrugs, nudging you forward when the person in front of you orders.

"i've always paid that much attention to you, y/n. i just don't think you ever paid that attention to me," donghyun says faintly. you feel weak in the knees at the insinuation, moving forward somewhat dazedly.

"a caramel macchiato, vanilla latte, an americano, and a hot ginger tea please," donghyun says, completely ignoring you when you offer your card to the cashier, swiping his quickly.

"you didn't have to buy coffee for me," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear. donghyun tilts his head, eyes forming little crescents at your gesture.

"hmm." the two of you find a table to sit at while you wait for your orders to come out before you turn to donghyun, curiosity blatant on your face.

"how did you know my coffee order?"

"like i said, y/n. i've noticed you for a while before you ever noticed me."

+++

"you had everything in place! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" jihyo cries out from where she's sitting in donghyun's beanbag chair, dongmin sitting right next to her, squishing the poor beanbag to near smithereens.

"i agree with her! why didn't you tell her about your feelings?" dongmin exclaims. donghyun rolls his eyes, throwing the tennis ball in his hands at the ceiling before catching it and throwing it back up.

"why is she invited to this anyway?" woonhak asks, even as he offers jihyo a chocopie from the stash of snacks that sungho and jaehyun had gathered after raiding donghyun's pantry.

"because she's the object of this guy's affections for the past four years," sanghyeok says, pointing at jihyo and then donghyun. "it's good to get all of the firepower you can get, with how much a dunce this kid is."

"first of all, i'm not a dunce. and second of all, i haven't asked her out because i don't want to ask her out using one of you idiots' plan," donghyun explains. "i wanna ask her out the way i wanna ask her out."

dongmin sighs, shaking his head. "how is it that you're so mature and suave when you're speaking with y/n and you're such a child when you're with us."

"i think woonhak has cooties and donghyun somehow imbibes them whenever he's in a forty kilometer radius of him," jaehyun offers as explanation.

"shut up. you and i had the same idea for how donghyun should ask y/n out," woonhak reminds jaehyun to which jaehyun has no choice but to just nod along, munching on a chocopie.

"anyway. can we talk about dongmin and jihyo for a second. how the hell is it that y/n and i went to the café while you two were fighting like cats and dogs about the best mcr song and we come back to you to basically making out in the library," donghyun says, turning in his swivel chair to smile smugly at the conjoined twins on his beanbag chair.

"shut up!" jihyo yells, throwing a chocopie wrapper, only to incite more laughter from the boys when it falls to the floor pathetically.

"hey, to be fair, it only took us about two years of knowing each other to start dating," dongmin specifies. "it's just that the past month of trying to push you and y/n together pushed us together enough for us to realize that maybe dating wouldn't be such a bad idea."

jihyo and donghyun exchange a look (a threatening glare from jihyo and very thinly surpressed smirk from donghyun) - something, which unfortunately, does not go unnoticed by the rest of the boys. especially dongmin, who twists to look at his girlfriend with an unbelieving look.

"no way. don't tell me you also have some pining love story like donghyun," dongmin incredulously. at jihyo's silence, the entire group erupts into chaos, with sungho and donghyun (after feeling guilty) trying to silence them in vain.

"oh my god, just when i thought they couldn't get any more insufferably cute!"

"god, i hate both of them."

"why is everyone so bad at confessing their feelings."

"i'm gonna tell my girlfriend about this; she's gonna find this hilarious."

"i REALLY need to stop being single."

dongmin just ignores all of them, pressing a chaste kiss to jihyo's cheek when he realizes that she's gone bright red from the attention to her feelings.

donghyun mimes throwing up when he does so but can't help the smile on his face when he turns to his phone.

"anyway, anyway. back to the donghyun and y/n intervention," jihyo says, clearing her throat. she still earns a couple cheeky grins but manages to turn the gazes of the group to the individual sitting at his desk, frozen in his spot.

"what's wrong?" woonhak asks concernedly. donghyun just lifts up his phone to show the others in the room.

y/n (<3): hey, can we talk?

TRIAL FIVE: DONGHYUN'S PLAN

"y/n? is everything alright?" donghyun says, his footsteps masked by the snow that didn't melt from when it snowed again a few days ago.

you look up at him with a nervous smile. "yeah, everything's fine. um...do you wanna sit down?"

you scoot over to make space for donghyun on the bench you were sitting on. the bench faced the pond, somewhat concealed from the busy streets of seoul by the various coniferous trees that lined the public park.

"sure. yeah." donghyun takes a seat next to you, knee bouncing nearly as soon as he sits down.

"you look nervous," you say gingerly.

"you look nervous," donghyun echoes.

"touché." you fiddle with your hands, the evening suddenly feeling a lot colder than you thought it would be. donghyun notices, just as he notices everything, and for some reason, he shifts so that he's sitting on his hands. almost as he was physically stopping himself from doing something.

"so...what did you want to talk about?" donghyun asks, watching as a young child tries to escape his father's grip to run straight down the little slope that fed into the pond.

"nothing," you squeak out before shutting your eyes tight when you feel donghyun turn to look at you instead of the pond.

"oh. did - did you just want company as you sat outside for a bit?" donghyun stutters, not sure of what to do with himself.

"no," you start, before shaking your head at your own words. "i mean, i do have something to say. i'm just trying to find the words to say it."

"you know, i've been meaning to tell you something to you too," donghyun says tenderly and you immediately nudge him, encouraging him to go ahead and say his piece first.

"no way, you have to tell me first," donghyun defends, turning his nose up away from you when you try to catch his eye, trying to grasp his jacket to turn him towards you.

"i'm nervous, donghyun. can't you do me a favor and go ahead first?" you plead and donghyun melts, unable to hear any sort of sorrow in your voice - for whatever reason.

"alright, how about we say it at the same time?" he proposes and you concede as you nod, retracting your hand, not noticing the way that donghyun's gaze follows your movement.

he lifts three fingers, then folds one, until there's only one left. you shut your eyes, unable to see the expression on his face.

"i like you!"

"i love you."

you immediately open your eyes, jaw hanging as you stare at donghyun, who looks equally flummoxed by your words.

"you like me?" he asks, pointing a finger at you. you turn the finger back at him incriminatingly.

"you love me?" you gasp and donghyun's gaze grows tender, taking his other hand to trap your hand between his two large ones.

"for a while," he admits sheepishly, a shyness so uncharacteristic to the gentlemanly and smooth donghyun you were used to. "i've been trying to confess to you for the past month now. you just...never noticed."

you laugh besides yourself, immediately willing all laughter away when donghyun looks at you with a hurt expression.

"you've been trying to confess to me? donghyun, i've been trying to confess to you for the past month!"

"what?" he stammers. "you've been what for the past month?"

"yes, you fool. i've been trying to confess to you for months. i've liked you for months! and then when you asked jihyo and i to the movie, i figured that it was dongmin's scheme to ask jihyo out so i decided to use the chance to ask you out. and then the whole tickets fiasco happened," you explain, inching closer to him. donghyun uses the opportunity to thread his hand with your own, tugging you close to him so that his body warmth could envelope your shivering frame.

"and then you spent the next hour talking about the movie and you just seemed so excited that i didn't want to distract you. and you know, you're cute, when you're excited," you continue, grinning stupidly when donghyun turns away his head to hide his shy expression.

"so this whole month, you've been trying to confess to me too?"

"donghyun, you say i haven't paid attention but i swear to god, you are so dense sometimes."

TRIAL SIX: Y/N'S PLAN

"look, look," jihyo whispers under her breath as donghyun enters the classroom. you don't look up, not wanting to feed into jihyo's taunts, knowing that it would only serve as fodder for her teasing later on. you wait for donghyun to pass by your desk to the back of the classroom, where he sat everyday, staring out of the window rather than paying attention to any of the classes. any of the classes other than biology, that was.

but to your surprise, donghyun stops at your desks, talking to jihyo about some movie or another. a pang of jealousy that you try to swat away strikes in your chest before you hear dongmin's name and hear donghyun's attempts to keep from snickering in jihyo's face

ah. so he was just the messenger for dongmin.

you continue to write, not sure of what exactly you were writing anymore as you were trying not to make it overt that you were listening to jihyo and donghyun's conversation.

"i know you have tutoring today, but push it back until seven in the evening," jihyo whispers hotly once donghyun has disappeared from earshot.

"you have a movie date."

+++

"are you going to finally use this chance to ask him out?" jihyo asks when she catches you staring at the tall boy conversing with his friend outside the theatre hall as the two of you stood in line for refreshments.

"that's the goal," you respond with a sigh. "i don't know if he feels the same but i don't want to regret never telling him about my feelings."

jihyo nudges you softly. "hey, don't have such a negative outlook. you don't know how he feels, right? don't knock it before it happens."

you don't respond, watching donghyun chasing his friend around with a blithe smile, waving the tickets in the air.

+++

"i personally thought that the best part of the movie was when the dad ended up inside..." donghyun rambles excitedly, holding scoops of popcorn in his hands as he explains his theories to dongmin. you can't help the smile on your face as you watch him act so carefree and enthusiastic. dongmin nods along, explaining his own theory every so often.

jihyo's eyes dart between donghyun and dongmin before she slumps down, taking a long sip of her fanta. "somehow, i don't think that any level of confession is going to happen today."

you just laugh, content to listen to your friends discuss their favorite scenes from the movie before clicking your phone open, only to curse when you realized you only had a few minutes before tutoring.

"i'm so sorry - i have to get going!" you say hurriedly, gathering your things as quick as you can before you rush out of the theatre, wincing when you realize the amount of courage you'd have to work up once again to confess to him.

but donghyun just watches your uncomfortable expression as you rush away, unsure of it was his fault.

+++

you sit up in your bed, accepting the bowl of soup that donghyun hands you, trying your best to ignore the tingle of electricity that runs down your spine when your fingers brush against his.

your focus fades in and out of the comfortable rhythm of the conversation as you sip on the soup when jihyo drops the daunting copy of notes she'd written for you on your desk.

"i can help you," donghyun says, anchoring back to the conversation. you try not to show the fact that your heartbeat is now around the same decibel as a plane taking off, instead trying to deny his offer for fear that spending too much time together might cause to spit out the words you've been chewing on day and night for the past few days.

but something about the way that he says he's more than happy to help you and that you're not being a bother by asking for help makes you stutter for just a moment and in a second of weakness, you accept his help.

"friend." the word feels surprisingly bitter on your tongue when you echo the way donghyun says it, like its been dripped in lead in the way that it sits so heavy.

not when you wanted so much more

+++

"you know what, this will be the perfect timing for you and i to ask them both out," jihyo says, opening the door to the library as the two of you head inside.

"i still cannot believe you and him have been fighting like cats and dogs and you think that it's peak romance," you laugh as jihyo shoves you playfully.

"whatever," she says before turning to you, surprisingly serious. "alright, promise me that you'll ask him out. whenever i'm alone with dongmin, i'll confess my feelings for him so you have to promise that you'll confess your feelings to donghyun."

you interlock your pinky with her, only to drop your hands when you stumble across donghyun and dongmin, who are sitting with their heads together, looking not too unlike head-butting bulls.

"oh. have we interrupted something?" you ask through a stifled giggle, causing donghyun and dongmin to spring apart. you swear that dongmin quite literally is suspended in air for a good two seconds before landing once more in his chair.

"no, no, not at all. come y/n. you and i can sit here," donghyun says, pulling out a chair for you to sit in.

you try your best to ignore jihyo's gaze as you pull out your textbooks, ready to learn as much biology as you possibly could. and maybe put off any sense of confession for as long as possible.

+++

"weren't you the one who said that you didn't want to regret not confessing your feelings to him?" jihyo points out, stirring a mug of hot chocolate. you nod, slumping in your chair.

"i know..." you scramble to straighten your posture as you lean over the table to look at jihyo. "how did you ask out dongmin?"

she shrugs, uncharacteristically shy as she takes a sip of hot chocolate. "i didn't. dongmin asked me out."

you groan, sliding down your chair once more. "why can't donghyun ask me out? what if i just never work up the courage to ask him out?"

jihyo just laughs at your torment when her phone buzzes. she pulls her phone out of her pocket before reading the text message.

dongminnie mouse: donghyun's house in twenty. you're officially on the donghyun and y/n intervention squad >:)

she pockets her phone once more before sliding her hot chocolate over to you before gathering her belongings.

"where you going?" you call out, passing off the hot chocolate to your brother padding down the stairs. jihyo slips her shoes on before turning around with a shit-eating grin.

"to go and fix your issue for you!"

TRIAL SEVEN: FATE'S PLAN

"that's one killer best friend," donghyun huffs as he pieces together the entire situation together. "if only dongmin was as competent; we'd have had this conversation months ago."

you rest your head against donghyun's shoulder, watching as the sun slowly begins to start its descent into the horizon.

"i don't know. i'm kinda glad that things worked out the way that they did. what if i didn't feel as strongly as i do now? maybe this was all meant to be," you say softly. donghyun smiles, turning to look you in the eyes.

just as sparkly, bright and so full of affection as you knew his eyes would be.

he leans in close, just a breath away from you as his eyes never leave yours.

"really? and if i say i love you right now?" he asks, and you forget why you'd ever been scared to confess to this boy, so full of love just for you.

you lean in even closer, pressing your lips against in a sweet, tender kiss, smiling when his lips seem follow yours even with his eyes closed.

"does that answer your question?"

"more than enough."

[officeobject]

Wait I did NOT expect you to ACTUALLY reply ... anyways, I have a niche personality, so I'm probably the best person :) ... to write "okay" to and never reply to forever! I also don't know what you mean by publicly shamed, due to it being so specific, and I also have no concept of death nor suicide, for better or for worse, but like, I do know, that they're then friends by title, and not ACTUAL friends - and like, I can only offer generic advice or make my own plan, and what I would do, as someone who could never be in that same situation ever due to the alignment of my personality and the obscure irrelevance I often fall under when it's the bottom line for people, is to get more bitches. Actually, maybe I'd even get new bitch and make him fight the other ones and watch or something - like I once had a friend who said he'd fight some shithead from my life and like, yeah, that's platonically attractive wow, and like, yeah, if possible then hit-able - but I shouldn't encourage violence, which allegedly isn't the answer, and I do not condone violence, and like, you're probably a teenager, so like - well first of all, I don't expect you to take what I write too seriously - like I don't expect you to actually see me as a human being all of the time, but also, like, just do whatever the feck other teenagers do to be happy and survive or whatever - I don't know, if I think about it for too long, I will hate myself, and possibly get into my addiction - lots of things in my life are about me I guess, and if they aren't about me or what I like for TOO long - or if not enough attention, brain will get mad.

And like, I'll TELL YOU, that what I really wanna say is how sad that is and that help exists, and like, sure, I do mean that, but like, I can only not-personality myself into someone nice, or make it all about me and my rambles and crappy advice.

Like I do NOT get people who can just give advice, or say they're here for someone, and then this just IS, in their personality - like, I'M just with a concern for humanity and a fear of unintentionally killing someone, and THEY, are just here, FOLLOWING THEIR PERSONALITY, WHILE, being all smoothly nice, or awkwardly helpful?! Like I could NEVER!

So over all: I'm sorry to hear that, have you tried talking to someone about it?

[sillygoose067]

A Masked Promise

Ch.20

Dick Grayson(Nightwing) x Reader

You both had settled into the couch, the empty plates from breakfast still on the coffee table, while a soft, mellow playlist played in the background. Dick had settled in next to you, his arm casually resting behind you, and you found yourself sinking into his side, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before you felt a tug in your chest. There was something you’d been meaning to bring up, something that had been sitting in your mind for the past few days. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with Dick—it was the opposite, actually. You felt incredibly safe with him, but this was a conversation you knew needed to happen. Your relationship, as wonderful as it had been so far, had reached a point where you both needed to discuss things you hadn’t even thought about until now.

You pulled back a little from his embrace, your heart fluttering nervously. "Gray?" you began, your voice quieter than you intended.

He glanced down at you, brow furrowing slightly in concern, as if he could sense your shift in mood. "Mmm, what’s up?" His tone was soft and attentive, and you couldn’t help but appreciate how patient he always seemed to be with you.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap, not quite sure how to start. "There’s… something I’ve been thinking about." You could already feel the flush creeping up your neck, your heart pounding as you hesitated.

Dick remained silent, but you could feel him waiting, his presence warm and encouraging, urging you to continue.

"I don’t… I don’t know how to say this," you mumbled, nervously glancing away. "But I think we need to talk about… well, about us. More specifically, about... intimacy."

Dick's eyebrows rose slightly in surprise, but his expression quickly shifted to something more careful, understanding. “Ah.”

“I just thought,” you continued quickly, your words tumbling out in an effort to fill the silence, “that it’d be good to, you know, set expectations. I don’t want there to be any confusion, and… well, I’m not exactly experienced. Like, at all.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, but he didn’t interrupt.

“You know that already,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I’ve been thinking about how things have been going with us, and I feel like I should say it out loud. I don’t want my first time to be… careless or rushed. Like—like in the back of a car or something, like my friend from high school did with her boyfriend of two months.”

Dick let out a low chuckle, his fingers brushing lightly over yours. “The back of a car? I can promise you, that’s not my style.”

Relief bubbled up as you laughed softly, his playful tone easing some of your tension. “Good to know,” you said, finally daring to meet his gaze again.

He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin. “I get it. And I want you to know that I’m not in any rush, okay? I don’t want this to feel like something you have to overthink or stress about.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just… I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We are,” he assured you. But then his expression shifted, a more serious glint entering his eyes. “Since we’re being honest, there are things I didn’t love in the past, either. Times when it felt like there wasn’t enough communication, and that made things messy.”

You tilted your head curiously, your fingers instinctively finding his hand. “Messy how?”

He shrugged lightly, his tone thoughtful. “It wasn’t always clear what we wanted from each other, and that led to situations where I felt like I was… I don’t know, guessing. That’s why I want us to always talk about this stuff. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

“That makes sense,” you said softly. “I don’t think I’d be good at guessing, anyway.”

He paused, as though weighing his next words carefully. "For me, I’ve learned that it’s better to wait for the right person, the right time, instead of just doing it because it feels like you’re supposed to. Trust me, I’ve been there before."

Your eyes widened slightly. "Wait, what do you mean?"

He leaned back against the couch, rubbing his hand through his hair as he glanced away. "Before I met you, I had some experiences that I’m not proud of. I was younger, trying to figure things out, but I rushed into things because I felt like I should. In the end, none of those moments really meant anything. They were just... impulsive, and I regret it." He met your eyes, his gaze serious. "But with you? I don’t want that. I want to make sure we’re both ready for whatever comes next."

You felt a surge of relief at his honesty, the weight on your chest slowly lifting. You hadn’t expected him to share his own experiences, but it made you feel like you weren’t alone in how you were feeling.

"You’re right," you said softly. "I just want it to be with someone who cares, someone who understands me."

That earned another laugh from him, his thumb brushing your knuckles now.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of unspoken understanding, the kind that made you feel lighter somehow.

“I appreciate you telling me this,” he said, breaking the quiet. “It takes guts to bring up something like this.”

Immediately, a soft blush painted your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, but you felt his gaze on you, warm and patient.

For a moment, he said nothing. You could feel your heart rate pick up, the silence stretching out like an eternity.

You smiled, your heart fluttering as his words sank in. You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him beside you. "Thanks, Gray."

"Anytime," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

For a few moments, you both sat there, the quiet comfort of his presence wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. The conversation had been nerve-wracking, but it felt good to have it out in the open. No more guessing, no more pressure. Just two people, learning to navigate this new and intimate part of their relationship, together.

As the quiet stretched on, you turned to him, a small smile playing on your lips. "So, what do we do now?" you asked, a teasing note in your voice.

Dick's grin widened, his eyes twinkling. "Well, for starters, we can just enjoy the day, no rush, no pressure." He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your lips. "And when you’re ready... we’ll take the next step."

You felt your heart swell as you kissed him back, the comfort of his presence and his words settling deep in your chest.

"Gray..." you started, your voice quiet again, but this time it held a certain edge to it. Something soft, but with an unmistakable depth.

His hand, which had been resting on your knee, slid up to your thigh, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he turned his head to look at you. “Yeah?” His voice was low, careful, but you could hear the curiosity beneath the calm.

You hesitated for a split second, then took a deep breath, looking up at him, your eyes slightly narrowed in playful determination. “I think... I think I might be ready for that next step, just a little more, you know?”

Dick raised an eyebrow, a small, intrigued smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh?"

You bit your lip, fighting back a nervous grin, but the excitement in your chest couldn't be contained. “I mean... we’ve had the talk, so that’s out of the way. But I think I’d like to try doing other things."

His eyebrows arched higher, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Other things?” he repeated, clearly amused now. "Care to elaborate?"

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as your gaze flickered down to where his fingers were tracing the skin of your leg. The simple touch made your pulse quicken, and you pushed through the flurry of shyness that threatened to overtake you. "I don't mean... you know, everything," you said with a shy laugh, the words barely escaping your lips as you tried to keep the conversation light. "But... more than just talking. Maybe... exploring a little. Testing out what we like, what feels good—" you let your eyes flicker up to his face, watching his reaction, "without rushing into anything we’re not ready for."

Dick's expression softened, the playful smirk turning into something warmer, but there was still a mischievous spark in his eyes. "So, you're saying you're not ready to run before we’ve learned how to walk?"

You nodded, a soft laugh escaping you. "Exactly. I mean, why rush? We can figure out what works."

"Wow, you could've told me you were an expert in romance, y'know, before we had the whole talk," he says with a playful smirk, earning a light smack on the chest from you.

His hand, which had been resting on your leg, shifted, fingers gently tracing the curve of your knee before moving back to your thigh. His touch lingered for just a moment longer than usual, and you could feel the way his fingers grazed the sensitive skin beneath your clothes. The tension between you thickened, but in the best possible way.

“You’re right,” he murmured, voice low, a playful yet sultry undertone there. “We’ve got all day to explore what works for us. And I have to admit... the thought of you in my arms while we figure this out...” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Sounds pretty damn enticing."

Your pulse fluttered as his words washed over you. You found yourself biting your lip again, this time with an entirely different sort of anticipation. “And maybe... maybe I’d be open to a little more than just cuddling... if you’re up for it."

Dick's eyes flickered to yours, and the intensity there was enough to make your breath hitch. "Trust me, I’m definitely up for it." His hand moved up your arm, then gently cupped your face, lifting your chin so you could meet his gaze. “But I want to make sure we’re on the same page. No pressure. Just... us, exploring things in our own time."

You leaned into his touch, nodding softly. "Exactly. Just... us. Together." The words were softer now, but the emotion behind them was clear. You wanted this—wanted him, but you wanted it to be meaningful. Slow, measured. The thrill was in the discovery, the little things that led up to more.

Dick leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that sent a shiver down your spine. When he pulled back, his gaze was heated, yet affectionate, like he was waiting for you to say something more. You didn’t have to say anything else though. The connection between you was undeniable, and the air between you thickened with tension.

His voice was hushed, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s see what we can discover, then."

———————————————————————————-

TAGLIST:

@mybones537 @thereeallink @ziziriaa-blog

[punkypiscesell-writes]

when it comes without a warning - ch. 1

chapter 1 - previous chapter

Javier Peña x plus size f! reader

summary: You meet a stranger at a New Years Eve party, not knowing where that chance encounter might lead.

warnings (updated after each chapter): fake dating AU, strangers to lovers, romcom, 90’s vibes, angst, small town dynamics, slow burn, pining, insecurities, drinking, smoking, food related descriptions, family mentions, mention of pregnancy, cynicism about love. The picture in the header is just for the visual and isn't an indication of the reader's skin color. Not beta read. If you see any broken Spanish, please let me know!!

word count: 9.4k

notes: Here we go, chapter 1! I hope you enjoy it <3 I will be updating this story each month, the final chapter coming out in July. The next update will be on Valentine’s Day.

dividers by cafekitsune

When you were a child, you watched a movie every Saturday evening with your mom. They made you think your life would follow a specific path. Go to school, graduate, you’d find a boyfriend who you’d someday marry and have kids with.

You’d buy a house somewhere quiet with a big garden and a picket fence. The kids would grow up and you’d watch them become their own people while knowing you’d always have your first love with you. You’d look at pictures that would span years until those would turn into decades, with the same people in them getting greyer and wrinkles all over their faces. It would be perfect.

What you didn’t understand back then, was how life doesn’t usually go like in those picture perfect stories. Rarely it’s wrapped neatly with shiny paper and finished off with a flawless bow.

You watched your friends find their first loves while you became a wallflower. You didn’t know what to do in life while others were making decisions about their futures. One by one your old friends moved away to chase their dreams, forgetting the people and memories back home. With the need to get out of the town where you grew up in, like your friends had, you realized you could turn your hobby into a job.

Chasing a dream makes people optimistic and the possibility of having your own story unfold like in one of those movies you used to watch with your mom seemed possible again. You kept your eyes open, even dared to step out of your wallflower persona, full of hope and enthusiasm. When your story still kept you waiting, you understood how chasing love doesn’t always mean chasing romantic love.

In the glimmer of a big city, you found new friends. Abigail, Eileen and Mary were actually interested in talking with you and getting to know who you are outside of being just someone’s friend. They already knew each other having grown up in the same town, but you fit in with them like the last pea in a pod.

“What’s holding you back, you can move anywhere!” Mary drunkenly encouraged on the night of your graduation, while the humidity of Austin bathed you in sweat.

“Yeah, you can start a bakery anywhere!” Abigail offered you her glass to pour more tequila into. How she said it, like it was the simplest thing in the world, made you laugh, and you thought she was joking until you realized she wasn’t. She was far from it.

“And then what? Just rot in some dying town until the end of my days?”

The seed was already planted though. They had a point. You could start a bakery anywhere if you wanted to and you could find help with the business side of things, especially in the beginning.

When you sobered up and you were sitting on an uncomfortable bar stool leaning your elbows against the kitchen island in your small, hole in the wall kitchen. You started to plan it. The more you planned, the more convinced you were you could make it work.

The movies you watched while growing up rarely had people move into a small town with a population of only a few thousand when they could move into a big city and keep those big dreams alive.

You bought a small space for your bakery from a building that used to have a restaurant. Mrs. Sánchez has a flower shop next door, and she has always been supportive of you, even when for a while you were the “new girl” in town. The whispers around you and your business were excessive, but eventually the whispering turned into actual conversations with you, rather than about you.

You had your best friends being part of their family businesses. Your bakery started to bloom. You were in control of the strings in your hands and all the puzzle pieces were clearly laid out, all of them locking into place.

“We want you to clear your schedules next July,” Noah begins with his soft voice, his calmness the complete opposite to Abigail who is hanging from his arm.

“We’re getting married y’all!” Abigail yells and pulls her hand from her fiancé, flashing a big, shiny ring for the guests to see. Your face drops as an excited shock washes through the room of Noah’s family’s luxurious farmhouse that they’ve had since forever. The high ceilings echo the eruption of cheering and clapping with the sound of glasses tinkling together in toast. You raise yours and smile, your feet rooted against the floor.

Your best friends. You look at them fawning over the ring, the smiling couple surrounded by their closest friends.  

“Finally, everyone knows!”

“Now we don’t have to hide it any longer!” Eileen and Mary laugh. Your smile doesn’t falter, it doesn’t even flinch. But it’s like a cold shower that runs down from the back of your neck to the bottom of your spine. Abigail’s eyes flash to you after the women have said the words out loud.

You used to be a part of that group of best friends. In the last couple of years they’ve turned into people you sometimes hang out with. The frequent dinners and game nights at each other’s places first turned into occasions that happened once a month, then into once every six months when schedules and life got in the way.

First it was Mary, who announced she had reconnected with her high school sweetheart. Then it was Eileen who found her boyfriend through Mary’s boyfriend. For a while it was just you and Abigail, the two of you against the world. You were bridesmaids to Mary, then to Eileen, then Mary got pregnant and Eileen right after her. You and Abigail held the fort as the only single women in your group.

And then suddenly it was only you. Their lives are different now, as is yours. You’re not in your early twenties anymore, naively finding your way in this world. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve chosen the right place for you, but you’ve also understood that you might not want the future with the house and a picket fence, a husband and kids and the pictures on a mantelpiece. Your best friends want that while you’ve chosen another path.

Then, before you can delve too deep into other existential questions, you remember a cake order that has to be filled next week or how you have to make one more batch of the new malted wheat sourdough bread because your customers are emptying your shelves before 8 am.

“So, what do you think?” Abigail catches up to you after you’ve congratulated the pair. She reaches her  left hand towards you and wiggles her hand.

You hold her fingers and twist them gently. The rock sparkles in the champagne hued light of the farmhouse. “It’s beautiful,” you smile.

“Noah chose it himself, with the help from my mom. I can’t believe he managed to do all that and I had no idea!” Abigail sighs and pulls her hand back to marvel at the jewel around her ring finger.

You sip from your drink, the alcohol almost a welcomed friend in the full house. The atmosphere is electric from the unexpected news. The music is turned even louder than it already was. The New Year is only a few hours away and you don’t see the party dying down anytime soon.

A little quiet wouldn’t do you any harm, especially as someone keeps bumping against your back, and pushes you to give them more room.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Abigail pulls you to the side, somehow managing to find a corner that isn’t occupied.

“I’d love to ask you a favor.” You’ve always been impressed by her ability to make her eyes so innocently big, pleading in a way that is caring and can make even the coldest person believe whatever she says is their own idea.

Abigail lifts her hands to your forearms and squeezes with a smile that reminds you of a child you saw at your shop yesterday after he had seen the experimental chocolate and peanut cupcakes you had made. After seeing his face, you might bring them back when you have an overstock of the ingredients, just to see that same kind of enthusiasm again.

“Remember that cake you baked for my 27th birthday?” Abigail asks. She doesn’t have to remind you. It was an elaborate white chocolate vanilla cake with raspberry compote filling. You topped it with handmade chocolate decorations that you created after work, the hours stretching closer to 20 spent in your bakery that day. Your back ached and you were stressed because you wanted the cake to be perfect. It was all worth it.

You nod. “I’d love it if you could make our wedding cake. We’ll of course pay, unless…” Abigail smiles with her lips tightly shut, the apples of her cheeks glowing.

“Unless you want me to give you a wedding cake as a wedding gift?” You fill in for her, the idea cracking your smile.

“Yes! Oh my God, it would be perfect! I’d be so incredibly lucky to have your creation at our wedding. It would be so special!” She grabs at you and pulls you into a tight hug that crackles against your tight shoulder where the muscle has been burning for the past week.

“I think we could make it work.” You swallow, defeated by your inability to say no to Abigail. One wedding cake. It’ll only be one wedding cake, among the other wedding cake orders that flow in during the busiest season of people tying the knot.

“I also have one other thing in mind.” You immediately prepare mentally for whatever she’s going to ask from you next.

“At my wedding, I’d love for you to bring a plus one.” Your mind goes blank.

“What?”

“The wedding is still six months away, so you have plenty of time. I just don’t want to see you alone there!” Abigail laughs and rubs at your arms. It has been a while since you wore anything else than your comfy clothes at home or your work uniform that consists of soft cotton T-shirts all in creamy white, tucked in your jeans and under an apron. Your friend running her hands up and down against the fabric on your arms, the blouse is suddenly coarse and too hot.

“I don’t have time for dating,” you remind her.

“You never have time for dating! I think that’s not true, you’re just afraid of finding someone and falling in love. That’s okay,” Abigail’s tone is encouraging, but her words sting. She’s not wrong. Of course you’re scared, you’ve never really dated anyone. The only dates you’ve been to were either pity dates set up by your high school friends or a few failed first meetings with guys who had been your customers at the bakery and who now only visit when they have to get something special for their girlfriends and wives.

“Fear not, you’re meeting someone tonight,” your friend’s eyes glimmer mischievously.

“What?” You hiss immediately.

“Noah has a friend who’s single. We think you’ll like him a lot.” Each of Abigail’s words is emphasized by a nod of her head or a poor attempt at a wink.

“We?”

“Eileen, me and Mary of course, silly,” she whacks at your arm playfully. Her cheeks blush while your stomach is heavy with dread.

“I really don’t think it’s a great idea. Also, I don’t need a date, it’s a wedding, it’ll be fun no matter if I have a date or not.”

“Bullsh–,” Abigail shushes herself and makes sure no one heard her. Her eyes soften to the level of pity. “It’s okay for you to find someone special, we all have. You’ll love it when someone takes care of you and pampers you and you won’t have to be alone anymore. You want to get married, you want a family! You’ve said it yourself, remember?” She laughs and tilts her head.

“Yeah!” You hope she doesn’t hear the doubt in your voice.

“We’re making sure you’re not going to end up alone.”

“What do you have in mind then?” Abigail turns immediately from you and leaves you standing next to the huge Christmas tree still fully decked and deeply green. You see her long, blonde hair swinging as she makes her way through the crowd. The curls at the ends are perfect. You smile at an older couple and wish them a happy New Near under your breath as they pass you by, a suspicious look in their eye while you try to keep track of Abigail.

You don’t have to wait for long. You see her first, then a tall man in a crisp white button down shirt behind her. He eyes you up and down immediately, his eyes blue and hard. You can’t read the look he’s giving you, but it’s not pleasant. He makes you nervous.

“Here’s John,” Abigail announces with a smile, and a hand that she waves down from his shoulder to midriff. You’re cornered between Abigail, John and the Christmas tree. The man nods his head and keeps his eyes locked on you while you notice the drink in his hand, a glass too gentle to be held in a death grip like his.

“Noah always calls him Johnny,” She proudly pats him on the shoulder and pushes John closer to you. The wall bumps against your back.

“He doesn’t,” John argues. His face twists in confusion, while his words are drowned by Abigail’s enthusiasm.

“Noah always tells good stories about John, how they’ve known for years, and how reliable he is. And you’re both into…” Abigail smiles, her eyes a little empty. She looks at you and massages John’s shoulder with her bejeweled hand. The engagement ring sparkles in the soft lighting of the family home. “You’re both into business! You’re entrepreneurs! I think you might have interesting conversations in the horizon,” Abigail chirps and finishes the last note with a smile that reveals her perfectly white teeth. Something catches her attention. Her eyes get larger, and her cheeks burn bright red. Noah stands close by with some of his friends, deep in conversation.

“Oh, excuse me, I have somewhere to be,” she points somewhere towards the crowd of people and disappears into it with a wave of her hand, in the opposite direction from Noah.

You stand awkwardly next to just as awkward John. He smells like aftershave from 30 years ago. It’s not completely unpleasant, only something you can imagine he got as a regifted present on Christmas. It’s warm, a little spicy, and a little too musty. He might like it, or then he wore it to keep unpleasant people away. You sip at your drink and try to take a step back without John noticing. The wall is in your way.

“We should sit down,” he tells you. You stare at his back when he leaves you standing alone, and only turns around to check if you’re following when he has found a couch end for you both to sit on.

He sits on the sofa with his legs spread wide. His face is smug, borderline conceited, when you make space for yourself next to him. How did Abigail, Mary and Eileen ever think you’d be into this guy? You try to relax, sip on your drink and smile at John. He smiles back. Maybe he’s not as bad as you’re making him out to be in your head. You don’t know him. Maybe your friends have a valid reason to believe you two could hit it off.

John pushes his leg against yours, seeking physical contact. You pull back from him immediately and lock your inner thighs together to keep yourself as small as you can. Your jeans aren’t tight but the way you’re sitting makes them dig into your skin.

“So…” John begins and drinks from his glass.

“So…” You repeat awkwardly, waiting for his next move.

“You want to hear how much money I make? I know women like to hear that. You don’t seem like an exception.” Your smile tightens, it’s a mask. The contents of your glass would be perfect on this guy, maybe he’s even begging for it.

“Like Abigail said, I’m an entrepreneur…” he talks in a monotone voice, reading off an invisible script. You don’t really even care if the mask on your face slips, not when John drones on and on about his savings, his investments and how he wants a stay-at-home wife to take care of the kids and home  while he’s working.

“My business will become massive in the next ten years. Yes, I plan ten years in advance. I recommend it to everyone who…” you drown John’s voice into the different voices around you. He’s like the perfect candidate for people watching.

Abigail and Noah’s parents are standing in one corner of the room, with lighthearted looks on their faces. Noah’s brother is leaning against a wall, looking bored as ever as he snacks on something from the snack table. Mary and Eileen are swaying to the music, pointing out different people from the party goers.

Abigail is with a man who you don’t know. She has her hand on his bicep, then she lifts it to his shoulder. Up and down she moves it, while trying to step closer to him. The man in a dark blue button up, his hair combed to the back with a few fly aways sticking out on his temple, a well-groomed mustache moves over his top lip, knows when to take a step back and shake her hand off him without seeming rude. Is she drunk? Abigail straightens the man’s collar. Her hand lingers on it, her fingertips touch his neck before she pulls her hand back.  

You’ve seen the man before. You’ve caught him staring at the pastries and bread in the bakery window a few times but he hasn’t come in.

“… You do for work?” The question is already fading. John’s tone is cool, almost as uninterested as you are. The distant look in his eyes isn’t helping to get you more invested in his monologue.

“I have my own business.” You answer, even to you in a too formal tone.

“Oh, what kind?” John leans forward, a spark of interest on his face.

“I have a bakery downtown.”

“Ah.” John scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. “That’s a risky business endeavor. Have you thought about something else when this one bites the dust?”

You grind your teeth together behind the smile that you try to keep even remotely kind looking. You have to get out of here. You spot Abigail mingling with the guests, now with Mary and Eileen, who all turn towards you. Abigail draws a heart in the air with her index fingers and points to John. Miserably you turn back to him, who is still talking about different options for you.

“You could sell your business, cut your losses before they’re too overwhelming for you to handle.” Mary’s thumbs up don’t cover the murderous snarl you give them, your mouth twisted when you shake your head “no”. They’re back on the move, finding a quieter spot while laughing. You can hear it over the steady buzzing of conversations.

John has moved on from your imaginary bankruptcy to talking about his newest investments.

“Who handles them for you”

“Hmm?”

“Your investments, who handles them for you?”

“I haven’t really looked into it.” The bottom off your glass stares back at you, the rest of the alcohol now going down your throat.

“You should! Having a fickle business like yours isn’t going to keep you afloat for too long. Especially in a place like this. I could give you some recommendations on how to maximize your profits.” Your skin crawls. How satisfying it would be to yell at this man to shut the fuck up.

You don’t. You see the people around you, your customers. They have their usual orders, some have something else on a specific day, and some stick to the same baked goods day after day. You know them by name. You remember the stories they’ve told you, how something you made was shared with a loved one and new memories were made. John doesn’t seem like a person who would understand the value of memories since they’re not monetary.

Your friends clearly don’t have any idea what kind of a man you’d want to be with. To be fair, neither do you. But John? Setting you up with someone who is as interesting as the worn-out, uncared-for leather of his shoes, at least you can say who isn’t your type.

Sitting next to him, his knee still bumping against you, making your skin itch, even when you try to keep distance to him, listening to him ramble on about investing and profits, your friends would be bored out of their minds in your place as well.  Maybe they haven’t spoken with John. Maybe they haven’t even met him before. Your fingers find your gold chain against your chest. Its dainty links run between your thumb and forefinger, the familiar trail soothing you.

“If you’re free tomorrow, I could give you some tips on finding–“

“Look, John,” you cut him off with the drop of your necklace back against your skin. “You’re… clearly knowledgeable about money, and someone might be very interested in hearing about all of this. But that’s not me.”

“What are you saying then?” He’s genuinely surprised.

“I don’t think we should explore anything further.” You let him down gently and give him an apologetic look.

“Okay,” he tilts his head with deep creases across his forehead. “I’m a bit surprised. There’s not many, if any, people paying any attention on you here. I’m a catch looking for someone to carry his children who will become the next president or congressman some day and you’re just a bakery keeper who clearly has let herself go. But whatever, I’ll respect your honesty.” He says it all with a smile on his face, the insult somehow meant to sound like a compliment. His brows rise and fall after every other word, like they’re part of the conversation too. You stare at him, your mind blank, your mouth with a life of its own.

“What a small man,” you say to him and stand up with a laugh. He says something more, but you don’t stay to listen. There’s nothing more you’d want in this moment than get away from this man and to refill your glass with the punch served here.

It splashes against the edges of your glass when you make your way to the balcony. You want to hide from the people inside the party. From John. He can think whatever he wants, you’re not fazed by his rudeness, by anyone’s rudeness for that matter. It doesn’t mean what he said didn’t hurt you.

The dusky balcony is the place to be, away from the golden lights, the music and people who apparently don’t even see you. An unreasonable fear rises from the back of your mind with an image of John chasing after you onto the balcony, telling you how great he is and how generous he is for even agreeing on a blind date with you. You’d need to understand how this night wouldn’t change his life, but it would still change yours.

There’s a lonely chair behind the corner, away from direct eyeline of the celebrations. There’s barely any light here, only a small lantern next to a flower arrangement on a small table next to the chair. You sit down and relax. The drink feels good, comforting, on your over stimulated nerves. Muffled music and people talking, laughing, puts a rift between you and whatever is happening inside.

There haven’t been many moments when you are truly alone and when you are, you usually invite it with open arms. What follows that alone time is usually a guest you rarely want to invite along. Being alone is almost easy, being lonely always chips away at your heart. At the belief that maybe there’s someone out there somewhere for you as well.

You’ve accomplished so much in the last few years. You can be proud of so many things you’ve made happen by yourself. At the same time, you have to admit that it has all happened because you’ve been ready to sacrifice something.

You go with the flow, but you’re looking in at your own life rather than living it. You’re waiting for something without knowing what that could be. Apathy follows the gentle buzz of the alcohol in your system. You breathe deep against the coolness of the night. At least your skin isn’t pouring sweat while wondering which turn you forgot to take at some point in life to find a missing, nameless puzzle piece.

A clink and a soft scratch of glass. You’re ready to tell John to leave you alone. Instead, your eyes meet the deepest of ambers, sitting on the other side of the little table next to you where the lantern and flowers have been arranged. Someone laughs inside in a way that reminds you of a breathless donkey.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry,” he says while pushing his glass further from the edge of the table, his voice deep, soft like a cloud.

“I didn’t know someone was here.” You’re ready to stand up, find another hiding place and leave this man alone.

“I should’ve said something.” You nod at his words, unsure of what to do. Maybe he wants to be left alone…

“You know the couple?” He asks, cutting your plans to leave short.  

“I’m friends with Abigail.” He smiles, acknowledges your words and presses his hand against his chest.

“I’m one of the groomsmen.” You smile a tentative smile back and hear the conversation between you two die down.

Even when you’re not talking, you find yourself glued to your seat. His presence is overwhelming. It draws you in, makes you nervous with curiosity. He’s looking out into the vast darkness facing the farmhouse, forcing the building to become a lighthouse in the quiet. Your left side, his side, is vibrating from his nearness. The little hairs on your arm stand up, reaching for him. There’s electricity in the air, zinging gently, a hum in your ear as you listen to it. Listen to him take a deep breath in and push it out with slow force.

He's the one Abigail spoke with earlier. The one with the mustache and dark blue button up. The one who you’ve seen stop in front of your bakery but never come in. The town gossip train would help you recognize who he is, but you’ve tuned that station off.

You hear about some things regardless, while some other things aren’t for your ears, you’ve decided. Maybe that decision would be different if you had grown up in a small town like this, your life filled with people knowing what is happening in other people’s lives.

“Do you mind?” His question is hushed. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, and a question in the quirk of his brow. You shake your head and watch him pull out a lighter. It flickers a golden glow against his face when he has the cigarette hanging between his lips. The embers light up and then go to rest when he takes a drag, the smoke in his lungs until he breathes it out slowly. The cloud hangs in the air and drifts towards you. You inhale the rich aroma mixed with burning sweetness.

“I’m quitting in the New Year,” he tilts his head towards you, his eyes like black embers fixated on you through his lashes, in the lowlight of the candle and whatever light streams from the window.

“And this is your last one?” Your voice tunes itself to the quiet smokiness of his tone without you trying.

“Last, or second to last, I haven’t decided yet.” He rolls the butt against his fingers and flicks it. The burning flecks distinguish in the air. There’s loud cheering inside, rattling against the calm atmosphere outside.

The man looks inside, his focus on the noise as well. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“Abigail had set me up with Noah’s godawful friend, I had to take a break. Apparently, I need a plus one for the wedding.”

“With who?” Another drag from the cigarette.

“John?” He nods at your answer, and blows out the smoke to the opposite direction from you.

“They’re not close, not really even friends,” the man muses and turns his eyes on you.

Like an electric shock, you have to turn away from him and stare out towards the dark. This man is intense, demanding in a gentle way, his attention on you and only you. He’s not filling a silence with useless noise, but with observing. You run your necklace between your fingers again, twist it around one and draw a line against your skin over and over.

“I think she just wanted me to find someone.” Wish that someone wasn’t a self-important dickhead.

“The wedding isn’t in months.”

“My friends know I need time to think, and to take it slow.” The man inhales from his cigarette again and raises his brows in what could only mean silent disbelief.

“What?”

“Just wondering why Abigail wanted to set you up with an asshole like John, everyone knows he’s a player.” His words pour on you like ice. The more you repeat the last part in your head, the more convinced you are it wasn’t a serious setup, but a foolish prank.

Maybe listening to the grapevine would’ve been a good thing at least once. You take a big sip of your drink and let it burn in your throat as you swallow it down slowly.

There’s more cheering and clapping coming from inside, pulling you to look in at the party as well. Abigail is standing in front of the guests, Mary and Eileen next to her. Abigail has a pouch in her hand, where Eileen is digging something from.

“And why aren’t you apart of that?” The man’s low voice rumbles slowly against your eardrums.

Mary and Eileen open something in their hands, small pieces of paper, and show them to the other guests. People, mostly women, erupt into gleeful joy. Bridesmaid and maid of honor. “I don’t know.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Why aren’t you in there celebrating?” You turn the question to him with a determined smile tugging against your cheeks. You should’ve known you won’t be part of the wedding party, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It shouldn’t hurt. You cover it with the smile and hope it will ease the sting.

The man notices your attempt at directing the focus away from yourself. He takes one last drag and then stubs the cigarette against an ashtray on the floor. He blows the smoke from his lungs and manages to turn more towards you.

He spreads his legs in the rickety garden chair, but his point isn’t to establish dominance like John, but to slide down and relax in the too small chair in his snuggly fitting dark jeans.

“I had to take a break,” he repeats your answer back to you. From his mouth it’s vague, words that hold some other meaning that he’s debating sharing with you. “Abigail is busy playing matchmaker in there.” He tilts his head to lean his temple against his fingers, his elbow perfectly perched on the arm of the chair.

Him facing you, his chin lifted, the amber of his eyes flickering in the candlelight, draws heat to the surface of your skin. Your chest, the back of your neck, your cheeks. It’s annoying that this stranger can cause a reaction like it.

You want to defy it and push back. You face him as well, stare him right in the eyes. Lava splashes on you from your head to your toes. Your palms sweat and you swallow, still with a calm smile on your face. It has become your safety blanket that you can hide behind. No matter if it’s a true kindness or you’re killing someone with it, the smile is familiar to you now.

“She found someone for you as well?”

“She suggested it, but I turned her down.”

“And that’s why you had to take a break?”

“No, it was because of the other guests.” He looks away. A small victory you didn’t think you’d get. His answer stirs the win into confusion.

“Why?” A question you have no right to ask, out of your mouth before you even consider asking it.

He lifts his eyes back to you, the look in them warm but laced with a warning. It’s not your place to know. It’s a question too complicated in its simplicity, the answer even simpler, yet more complicated.

Two can play this game. Who hides better behind a mask? Who stays calm when someone tries to crawl under the other’s skin? He’s a master at it, catching you off guard, letting you think you had won him in the game he has perfected over the years.

You’re knocked off the number one spot and he figures it out immediately, when your smile cracks and you have to hide behind the excuse of taking a sip from your glass. There’s only a little left, one more mouthful and you’re done. You don’t want to see his victory, but you also don’t want to seem scared.

The look on his face isn’t victory. Instead, you’re met with a man who is deep in thought. His brows are lightly pulled together, defining the two small lines between them. His eyes are veiled, only a slight shine from the candle still reaching them. Yes, he won.

“Well, I think it’s my time to go.” He snaps out of his thoughts. The watch on his wrist flashes with the reflection of light hitting the glass face.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” He sounds almost alarmed.

You circle the drink in your glass a couple of times and see his glass on the table. You stand up, lean over the table and smile more to the empty glass than to him. “Happy New Year,” you say out loud and clink your glasses together. The sweet and sour taste is soothing and if you were alone, you probably would drink a few more to ring in the special evening.

“I’ll see you around,” you tell the man who follows your every move. He watches your hand as you place your glass next to his. He watches you wipe at the backside of your jeans to make sure there’s no dust on them from the chair. His eyes are burning against your back as you leave him sitting on the old, weathered chair.

Someone opens the door to the balcony and sticks their head out. Noah.

“Hey, have you seen Javi?” his voice is a little hoarse, joy on the corners of his eyes.

“Who?”

“Javier, dark shirt, jeans, brown hair…” the man’s presence appears on your back, lifting all the hairs of your skin again, heat coursing through you.

“I’m here,” his voice is like the stickiest and sweetest honey. It’s also much closer than you anticipated. You look over your shoulder. Javier is right behind you, his chest almost against your back. Noah’s face lights up, clearly pleased he found his friend.

“Is Abigail somewhere? I’m going to be heading out, I just want to congratulate her once more.” Javier stands still and manages to shake your voice only by being close to you.

“But it’s not even midnight yet, you should stay a bit longer,” Noah pleads, a relaxed slurring in his speech.

“I think I’m done for the night, just too tired to keep on partying. Thank you for inviting me and congratulations once more.” You hug Noah, genuinely happy for him. His tan skin glows with pure excitement.

“Can you believe her, leaving before midnight on New Year’s Eve.” Noah points his thumb at you, the jokey question directed at Javier.

“I know, almost like tonight doesn’t change anything.” His sarcasm makes you snort, and Noah fake a laugh.

“Abi is downstairs. Thanks for coming, and thank you for the gift,” he winks at you, the promised wedding cake now apparently confirmed.

Abigail entertains some older people, talking with them, sharing moments from how she met Noah and how he proposed. You barely get a word in and her answer to you leaving is: “Okay, I’ll call you.” before she’s back to talking with the people who have made her their center of attention.

Luckily Mrs. Sánchez is on her way out with her husband, taking you to town. You have one neighbor, living in the apartment on the other side of the corridor from you on top of the carpenter shop. You’ve met him plenty of times since you moved in six years ago, but you can’t for the life of you remember his name.

You’re already sleeping, groggy and confused when you hear your neighbor counting down from 10 with his guests, the cheering overwhelming even through your wall. Auld Lang Syne starts to play, and you lay in bed, staring at the blank surface of your ceiling. Not even the streetlights can light your apartment enough.

Maybe this year you’ll push yourself to enjoy your life rather than watch it pass you by. You make the resolution before you fall back asleep, barely remembering it the next morning.

Time ticks on even after midnight and the days after don’t create a limbo effect anymore when you go to work. It’s darkest when you wake up at 3.15 and head to the bakery thirty minutes later. The morning rises as you’re tipping proofed loafs from their baskets onto the floured wooden table for scoring. You’re trying a new leaf design, lashing the surface with a sharp blade that glides against the dough like butter.

When you’ve pushed the loaves into the oven you take the next trolley of bread from the walk-in fridge and under the zippered hoods you uncover what you made yesterday in preparation for today, buttery wheat loaves in their neat little rectangle pans. One trolley after the other you solve the walk-in fridge puzzle, pulling out hooded trolleys. Yellow hoods for sweet products, blue for savory.

“Morning!” Lili, your bakery assistant, greets as she walks in from the small locker room. Unlike you, who stayed up too late writing down ideas for Abigail and Noah’s wedding cake, her under eyes are bright and her voice clear after a well-rested night.

“Good morning,” you croak and clear your throat right after. Your shoulder complains as you fill in the vanilla tartlets, row after row of neat custardy pies waiting for a couple of slices of syrupy lemons Lili has prepared for them.

As the shop fills with the fresh loaves, rolls and biscuits, the last sweet things are baking in the ovens, filling the bakery and shop with a sugary, toasty smell. Butter, nuts, fruits, spices and chocolate, are like a dessert after the early morning savory baking.

You’re filling cream puffs when the doors open and the first customer walks in. You have the bakery door open but can’t see the shop from your sturdy work table. You can only listen to the sounds that indicate your work paying off.

The bell above the door tinkles constantly, people walking in and out with fresh goods in paper bags and bakery carton boxes, careful not to shake or mush anything that is even a little more fragile than the thick crusted breads.

Lili’s enthusiastic voice answers questions with a constant smile. “Yes, these have a hazelnut and chocolate filling.” “There is ginger and clove in the cookie dough.” “It’s the freshest today, but you can use the rest for bread pudding or French toast in the next few days.” “Sadly, that was our December limited edition cupcake, but we’re planning something for Easter.”

If she’s not answering questions, then she’s taking down orders and repeating every detail to get everything right. The free spots in your calendar for orders are filling out fast. You’re counting each one in your head after Lili repeats them, checking off the orders list you remember by heart. Someone asks for a wedding cake order for July, one already taken by Abigail and Noah.

“Mr. Peña is here,” Lili sticks her head into the bakery, pulling you from weighing ingredients for sticky cinnamon rolls. It’s eleven in the morning, you’re about thirty minutes early from your work schedule. The radio in the corner plays an older song softly, the words flowing from your mouth in a quiet hum. You wash your hands and check your face, wiping the remaining moisture from your temples as the ovens are finally cooling down. You take the small bakery box full of pistachio cream puffs from the fridge and take it to the register.

Seeing the shop full is always overwhelming, almost intimidating, especially when most look at you as they see you walking out of the bakery.

“Morning everyone,” you greet with easiness, the words wiping away your nerves. Mr. Peña is third in line, standing with someone who is looking at the small packets of chocolate confections that were leftover from your New Year’s specials.

You take one of the raisin and cashew loafs from the shelf and push it into a brown paper bag, and wheat knot rolls into another bag.

“Mr. Peña, what can I get for you?” Lili asks, her voice a little higher and squeakier than normal.

“Those ham and cheese muffins are looking fine today,” his voice rumbles. You smile to yourself as you pack a few lemon and poppyseed cookies into a box.

“¿Quieres algo dulce?” He asks his companion just as you turn with all the baked goods in your arms. You lay them on the table next to the register, Lili taping the muffin box closed and getting to work typing the prices as zero dollars.

“What’s this?” Mr. Peña asks under his brown, wide brimmed cowboy hat.

“You gave me the tip about Arnold’s shop, and he came to fix the oven right before New Year’s. It’s as good as new now. He also checked the other one, to see if it has the same problem with the wiring. This is the least I can give you as a thank you.” If you had ordered someone to come in from further, you would’ve paid a pretty penny for a simple fix that was done in fifteen minutes. You couldn’t be more grateful for Mr. Peña suggesting someone who he trusts.

“That was nothing, Sam is an old friend, he would miss his own funeral just to fix appliances,” he laughs and gives room for his companion to step next to him. Javier’s eyes bore into yours, a soft smile in them. He lays the little confection box on the table next to the breads and sweets.

“This is my son, Javier.” He pushes his aviator sunglasses into the neckline of his pink button up t-shirt.

“We met at Noah’s party a few days ago,” Javier says, making you nod along with his words.

“Oh! Well, then you need to know this little lady makes the best cream puffs in town,” Mr. Peña directs his attention to you. The smile lines get deep right by his eyes when the corners of his mouth turn up.

Javier hums in recognition, patiently watching you try to gather your thoughts. The two men look the same as they stand next to each other, the generation the only thing setting them apart. Javier seems to tower over his dad, his back straight and his shoulders wider with age pressing them forward for his dad.

“That’s a bit over exaggerated isn’t it, since there’s no other bakeries in town,” you turn the compliment into a joke, and your focus back to Javier’s dad to get yourself to calm down. Javier’s presence makes perspiration prickle at the small of your back.

“That’s why I said the best in town,” Mr. Peña jokes back.

“Exactly!” The shared laugh eases your discomfort. Why Javier makes you nervous, you haven’t decided yet.

“So, how much do I have to pay for these?”

“Nothing. Like I said, it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“No, of course I pay, this is too much.”

“Mr. Peña, you helped me when you didn’t have to. These are on the house.” The people behind Javier and his dad are starting to get curious about what you’re giving away for free.

“Please, call me Chucho, I come here often enough for us to be in first name basis. And I already know your name, have known it longer than you’ve known there is a ‘Mister Peña’,” he tries to mimic your voice but only makes it sound like a mockery of you. He mumbles “sorry,” under his breath, all forgiven with a smile you give him back.

“What about these?” Lili asks with a quieter voice, the confections in her hand.

“I’ll pay for those,”

“And that’s Javier, you can call him by his first name as well.” His dad says pointedly. In a way he reminds you of your grandpa and how warmly he too always spoke even when to teach you about something more serious, like how to ask nicely, or when you needed help with your homework, and he checked where you had gone wrong.  

“Chucho,” you nod your head towards him, “Javier,” you say his name and it tickles against your tongue. The other side of his mouth rises.

“Javier will pay for the candy, and I want a couple of those lemon things over there,” Chucho points in the display. The vanilla tartlets you worked on just a couple of hours earlier.

“Yo los pago, papá,” Javier mutters when you pick up a carton and fold it into a box, placing two tartlets into it. Lili is already ringing him up when you place the box next to her.

“Have you changed the products?” Chucho asks, looking at the display more carefully.

“There are a couple new things, like these blueberry swirl cupcakes and these hazelnut cookies.” You point them out for him and notice Javier checking out the items as well. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking out the favorites,” you nod towards the pistachio cream puffs that have become Chucho’s regular order. He winks at you, like a secret has been exchanged between you two. Lili packs all the goods into a paper bag and hands it over to Javier.

“Thank you,” Chucho tips his hat and drops money into the tip jar.

“Thank you,” Lili yells after checking how much he gave. You greet the next customers while leaving to go back to work, watching the pair as they walk out the door and to Chucho’s truck.

As the day goes on, the bell above the door tinkles less. The noises from people talking quiets down and Lili’s answers and order taking slows until there’s no more questions or orders to be made.

“Only a couple of cupcakes, cookies, and rolls left,” she informs as she joins you to help with dough mixing and making products for the next day. You work like a well-oiled machine that has been in use for a hundred years. You turn the radio a little louder and the both of you sing along to songs that you both know either from your childhoods or ones that have been playing nonstop since they came out in the last year.

“Can you make the puff pastry, I’ll make inventory and clean up the front.” You massage your shoulder, the pain burning under your shoulder blade.

The day is warm, warmer than usual, people wearing shorter sleeved shirts as they pass the shop. The air is humid, yet still dust settles on surfaces. You write in your notebook all the products sold, keeping note of the ones that have leftovers, before packing them in discount packets to get them sold before closing.

The industrial dishwasher rumbles on the other side of the wall as you’re wiping down the display cases. The door opens and the bell jingles, followed by footsteps that stop at the door. You look over your shoulder, the pink shirt on Javier like an alarm for your system.

“Hi,” you straighten your back and finish cleaning the glass.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” He takes his sunglasses off and hangs them off his shirt again.

“No, no, we’re still open. Did you forget something? Or maybe Mr. Peña wanted something more? I’m sorry we sold out everything you got, tomorrow I’ll be selling more again.” Javier breathes out a silent laugh listening to you ramble nervously, his eyes landing on the empty shelves.

“I’m sure he’d buy more if there was some left, and you can call him Chucho.” You bend your head down when his eyes meet yours. “That’s not why I’m here for.” He walks over to the register with you on the other side. He places his hand on the table, curiously taking in the empty shop.

“What can I get for you then?”

“Have you had any luck finding a date for the wedding?”

“Oh,” his question surprises you. “I haven’t even thought about that. I can guarantee it’s not going to be John. Why?” He nods, watching your lips as they move around the words. He presses his hand into a fist, opening his mouth once, then closing it, contemplating whatever he has on his mind.

“I was wondering…” He stops, his lashes dark against the tops of his cheeks as he has trouble looking at you in the eye. Until he does and forces you to swallow against the sandpaper in your mouth.

“Noah said something… And I remembered what you said about Abigail wanting you to have a date… Being single at a wedding can be…” The broken sentences raise your pulse. “What if we’d go to the wedding together?” Your pulse pauses for a second until it picks up like a storm.

“You make it sound like someone’s going to pair you up with someone more awful unless you do something about it first?” You’re surprised how even your voice sounds even though pins and needles run up and down your skin and your insides are in a turmoil.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come off that way.” Javier shakes his head fast, his eyes flashing to you in fear that you’d understand him wrong. “My old man has been eager to know if he needs to know a name before the wedding. It’s a hassle if I won’t deal with that in time.” He almost manages to calm the tempest. You join his chuckling, imagining Chucho pressing his son about finding a plus one for a wedding where his friends are already paired off.

“Look,” you begin, forcing yourself to calm down and think clearly. “It’s a nice offer, but I’m not looking for anything, I don’t have time for it. Abigail setting me up at the party was weird and I’m not concerned about finding a date. I honestly don’t care what people say or think. She just wants me to have someone and not end up alone when she’s busy having brunches and dinners with her married friends.” Javier’s eyes narrow the longer you speak, your last words like icing on a cake for someone who observes as closely as Javier does. You realize how you make yourself sound pathetic and Abigail like an asshole immediately after.

“I’m not looking for anything either, I was thinking it more as an arrangement of sorts.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yeah. I have a lot of groomsmen, ah…” he looks for the words, “whatever wedding things coming up and I know I’ll be put between a rock and a hard place unless I have a date. We could go together, avoid the awkward blind dates and we’d let people know we’re each other’s dates.” What he means with him being between two undesirable options confuses you, but the possibility of Abigail setting you up with someone like John again is high enough for you to get interested in Javier’s suggestion.

“So, you mean we’d fake dating each other?”

He’s unblinking for a moment, until he inhales and pushes the breath out with a “I guess so.”

“Sounds like you’ve read too many romance books.” The lighthearted joke makes him laugh. “Don’t you think it’d be awkward?”

“If we’re okay with it, no, I don’t think so. We could get to know the basics of each other and that would be it. You don’t have to spend your time with me any more than you have to.” He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and places it on the table. “Think about it.” He pushes the paper towards you. You take it, and it’s still warm. He has written his number on it neatly, Javier with a swoopy J on top.

A couple walks in. The bell startles you both. Javier steps back and takes his sunglasses from his shirt.

“Let me know, okay?” He raises his brows in question, and you answer with a nod. The couple beelines for the leftovers, talking in hushed tones, while the bell dings and Javier leaves without a second look back.

“I knew we should’ve come sooner,” the woman hisses and huffs.

“We’re open tomorrow, if you’re looking for something specific,” you try to get back into the moment, but end up following Javier push his sunglasses up his nose and jog across the street to his truck before a car crawls past.

Never would you have thought a piece of paper could be heavy but here you are, aware of its existence in your jeans pocket under your apron. The offer is appealing, you can’t deny that. The thought of having someone steady by your side, people not asking if you have a date, mainly Abigail, and not needing to think about the whole date thing, would be a weight off your shoulders. You could focus on the more pressing matters.

The couple buys the bread rolls, one more tick for you to write into your notebook. You finish preparing everything with Lili and when you turn the lights off a the end of the day, your brain is fried from thinking what to do with Javier’s suggestion.

The hot shower at home is heaven against your shoulder, loosening the tense muscle. It doesn’t wash away Javier’s suggestion though. You dry yourself, and you wouldn’t have to think about a plus one anymore. You warm up leftovers from yesterday, and you wonder how you could relax around Javier who has the ability to get your thoughts and blood roiling. You sit on the couch and get hurt once more thinking about John and if it was all a joke for Abigail to set you up with him.

You dig the pockets of your jeans and find the paper, still folded in half, his handwriting against your fingertips.

“Peña,” you hear Chucho answer. His joyful laughter after you say who’s calling makes you smile as well.

“Don’t say you’re giving us more bread and pastries. I’ll pay for them the next time.” There’s rustling on his end before you have a chance to answer, Javier’s voice muttering something to his dad.

“Hello,” his voice is softer, less deep as his father’s yet still deep enough for you to have it rattle your spine.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, I got a new number a couple of weeks ago and I’m not used to using it yet, gave you the house number by accident.” If you knew him any better, you’d say Javier is nervous.

“That’s okay. I wanted to call and ask if you’re really up for it, fake dating?” he chuckles quietly, almost like he wouldn’t want to make his dad question why you’re calling his son in the evening.

“I’d still call it just an arrangement, but yeah. That’s why I asked you.” You grind your teeth together, nervous about what you’re getting yourself into.

“Okay, let’s do it then.”

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fall 2024 Anime Overview: Magilumiere Magical Girls Inc.

Premise: Monsters called Kai are threatening ordinary people, and only magical girls can stop them. However, being a magical girl is no longer the domain of teenagers, and has evolved into an actual career dominated by adult women. Companies employ magical girls and send them out to exterminate Kai. Kana is having a hard time getting her first job. But when she ends up helping out a magical girl, she’s invited to become one for a small, scrappy company. There’s a lot for Kana to learn…

This was my favorite magical girl show of the Fall 2024 season- and how amazing is it we had three new ones for once! There's a lot to love about Magilumiere! For one thing, it gave me something I always crave: Adult magical girls (or magical women, though they’re called magical girls in this show). Much like how classic mahou shoujo often explores the struggles adolescence and growing up, this show uses mahou shoujo as a way to explore what it’s like to be a young woman entering the working world. Kana struggles to grow her confidence and adjust to her new job, but with the encouragement of her boss and co-workers, she discovers her own talents.

All of the magical ladies are pretty fun, with my favorite being Hitomi Koshigaya, Kana’s senpai in the work place. She’s a brash and raucous woman who loves kicking ass with shit-eating grin, she only ever wears tracksuits when she’s not on the job, she talks like a delinquent, bursts with confidence, and she’s very protective and sweet towards Kana. Basically, she’s goals, everything I love about soft hearted delinquent girls only she’s actually a grown woman this time! Wow!

But we also get introductions to plenty of other cool magical ladies, all who approach their jobs in a different way where they can learn from each other.And the women are always treated respectfully, visually and by the narrative. No jarring objectification or anything like that.

The show has a bit more of a focus on men than you’d expect, since while the magical girls fight on the front lines, Magilumiere’s engineer/tech support team are men, and the boss and his mysterious backstory is a big part of the show. However, they’re all good characters! And the show does still put a big focus on women, exploring their relationships, their development, and all the cool magical girl fights they can get into. It is so nice to see some hype magical lady fights, and rather than the unfortunate animation poor Acro Trip got, this show does pretty well with its visuals and fight scenes. The story especially lot of fun with the transformation sequences, and I love to see it.

The show also has a lot to say about corporate world, and it feels like it’s only getting started on that. From the beginning, it makes sure to contrast the way Magilumiere operates from the more cutthroat business of larger companies. The company’s boss, Kouji Shigemoto, was previously a partner in a much larger business, but seems to have left because how they were doing things didn’t jive with his ideals, and now he’s in charge of start-up where he's very focused on the best possible experience for both his employees and customers. He’s contrasted to his previous partner, who’s gone on to grow a big company that only cares about efficiency and the bottom line. His old friend doesn’t care about property damage or the feelings of the people who need help, just getting it done quickly and going on to the next job. He fires his employees casually, and doesn’t seem to care about them.

Meanwhile, Shigemoto is a very encouraging presence in his company, who checks in with his employees, talks to them, supports  them, and really respects their input. Magilumiere makes a point of avoiding property damage and finding ways to help the customer, even if it’s a lot more trouble. He describes himself as wanting to “protect” peaceful moments where they can just hang out and have fun. It may come off as being a little too worshipful of start ups, but I don’t think it’s trying to say all startups are like this. Shigemoto started his with the specific goal of being kinder to his employees and being true to his ideals, and that’s not a thing that applies to all startups. 

It's not saying anything groundbreaking so far, like it’s definitely not deeply questioning the hellscape of capitalism right now, but the message is nice, and I’m interested in seeing where it goes. The fact magical girls are privatized despite providing a life saving service is interesting, and I wonder if the show’s going to touch on this too, since it’s been implied there’s a grim origin involved. And then there's lots of a little jokes about tech companies too. The fact the magical women suck monsters up into flash drives after defeating them is honestly so funny.

The story also gives some brief shout outs to struggles real women face in the workplace—it’s mentioned there’s people on not-Twitter who mock magical girls for being “old” and just seem to want to harass and criticize them. But this hadn't really been explored in depth so far, which I’d like to see from the show. It would also be nice to see exploration of gender on the tech side of things--- like in the real world, it’s really notably male dominated. We’ve gotten some focus on one woman CEO and one girl engineer, but the gender imbalance is very much there. 

 The show disappointed very slightly by briefly throwing out that men’s magic is “too aggressive” (whatever that means?) and that’s why it’s all magical girls, which is a too-common gender essentialist explanation for women dominating a fantasy action story (see: Claymore) that has weird implications. Why can’t a lot of girls just be really good at magic? Why can’t it just happen to be a female dominated career but there are some magical boys? (And the fact the the explanation has to be like, guys are just TOO strong, TOO cool, TOO manly is like. lmao okay.) But it is a throwaway line that doesn’t ever come up again (and it does at least frame it as a ‘mystery’ they might figure out someday).

That brings me to an issue that may be uncomfortable for some viewers- Shigemoto wears a magical girl outfit while he’s working, and when he’s introduced the angle and vibe is intimidating and Kana reacts in shock and possibly fear, possibly playing into transphobic stereotypes. The next episode, however, makes it clear she’s specifically be shocked that it’s a middle aged man wearing “cosplay” at work rather than ever saying it’s the dress, the other employees are chill about it, Kana gets used to it, and the narrative moves on pretty quickly.

However it comes up in a minor way a couple more times, with Kana saying she's surprised Koshigaya worked there after seeing the boss dressed like that (Koshigaya’s response being ‘hey you decided to too! People in this company are interesting, aren’t they?’). Another magical girl doesn’t seem put off by it at all, but immediately assumes it’s business related. It is implied there’s some sort of work related origin for his cosplay and it's possibly tragic, but he does definitely enjoys the clothing (and has a nice skincare routine) and the male characters are always 100% supportive, with one of them particular often discussing fashion with him, if there should be more ribbons etc.

So yeah, YMMV over whether it crosses over into transphobia (or edges into it) but I’ve definitely seen way worse. I feel the series is mostly supportive even if it’s like “hahaha it’s a little weird right!” it’s not outright mean to him about it (imo).

The pacing may be a little slow sometimes, really wanting to cover every moment of the manga, but it’s always a good time, and there’s plenty of hype moments. The concept is so interesting and has so much potential, and I feel like the show is running with it.

The show has been unfortunately been confined to Amazon Prime, where a lot of people probably missed it, but it seems to be doing well in Japan and a second seasons already been announced, to my delight!

Over all, if you’re a magical girl fan or are just interested in a good show that explores magi-tech, working adult issues, and has some cool ladies fighting and bonding, I really recommend this one.

[ritualofcirice]

Could we get a letter of sup-port for our dear FrauGwinska? She's a wonderful person who needs to hear just how amazing she really is. She's been nothing but a positive example in the HH Fandom, and I know I'm not the only one who can attest to that fact.

Thank you so much for doing these, by the way. It's so lovely to see people lifting others up when hate has been all to prevalent lately.

🐑 ♡ Here's one letter fresh from Sup-port, addressed one delightful author ♡ 🐑

Dear @fraugwinska,

What an honour it is to be able to write a letter to you! From electrifying Vox smut, to the carefully constructed world of Gem, you're stories intrigue and capture the hearts of those that read them.

Not only that, but you've provided a space for other writers to feel seen. You have made a space where people can go to share with others and talk amongst friends.

That's why you've been nominated for a letter! We want to give back all the support you have given us. Inside and outside of the server, we all want you to know that it is just as much a place for you to be seen, appreciated, and loved. This goes for both you and all your heartful stories. Thank you for sharing them with us, and thank you for all that you have done for the fandom!

Wishing all the best, and sending all of our love,

The Sup-port Team xo

Let's see what other letters arrived for you!

From @hazelfoureyes ♡

Mein Frauchen, very often I read things that make me feel inadequate as a writer. Several times it was things you’ve written, you talented bitch (I love you). I know good art doesn’t always get the recognition it deserves, but I hope you truly believe me when I say you’re skilled in many areas and your efforts are always appreciated. The first time I read your work I almost got too intimidated to talk to you anymore haha but I did! Somehow! ♡ I’m unsure how to lift your spirits, but please know no matter how you choose to exist in our fandoms we all share together that we are better for your presence.

From @macabr3-barbi3 ♡

"Frau is one of the most genuine and heartfelt people I have ever met- she was one of the first people in the Hazbin fandom to welcome me, which was honestly wild because I was already a fan of Method to Madness and was just baffled that she was not only such an amazing writer, but an amazing person all around. When we started chatting after a frankly mortifying initial interaction on my part, I was so happy to find that we were so similar and that she was so fun to talk to and conspire with. So many of my ideas have come from the inspiration she brings me, as a fellow writer and as a friend. She is endlessly patient, empathetic to a degree I've never seen, and so so so supportive and encouraging of everyone that she interacts with in the servers we share. She is funny and charismatic and sweet, and I've grown closer to her faster than I've ever bonded with another person before. It hurts to know sometimes that she doesn't see herself the way that myself and so many others in the Hazbin community see her- an integral and important part of the fanfiction community and in all of our lives. It is one of my greatest privileges in life to not only be here to support her writing and her work but to call her one of my absolute best friends, and I can't wait to see how much further she grows."

From @kewpikayo ♡

Kindness. Warmth. Inspiration, A powerhouse of talent and a genuine soul. Those words, among countless more positive things, are but a taste of who Mama Frau is. I may have only known Frau since the latter part of 2024 but I can just tell she is the type of person who would travel oceans for people just to let them know she cares. She is so sweet, a motherly soul, and so very creatively inclined. To say I appreciate her is a complete understatement. She is a treasure, a precious “Gem”, and to know her is such a gift. The way she weaves her stories with intricate detail and just enough suspense to keep her audience’s intrigue is commendable and a remarkable skill. I am thankful beyond compare for you, Mama Frau. And I am so excited to get to know you even more as we walk further into 2025 and many years to come hugs

From @startissuu ♡

"Stop being so darn pretty before Chef is forced to travel to Germany and get down on one knee"

Tagging Backup:

@melodyonthewireless, @tarokitsu, @bapple117, @redvexillum, @redfoxwritesstuff, @minkdelovely, @hyuccubus, @reinthechaosdeer, @jurijyuu, @primsgirl89, @dewdropdinosaur, @xalygatorx, @6esiree, @lumikello24

Want To Write A Personal Letter?

Frau's official Sup-port tag is #fromsup-port2fraugwinska

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[hisredconverses]

ok i have a secret to spill. i had an ana blog for like, three days and then had an epiphany and deleted the blog and entire account. i suddenly felt so so so terrible for possibly contributing to making someone get worse. i feel absolutely wretchedly horrible for the maybe ten posts i did because what if they hurt someone. i just needed to get this off my chest to someone. whats yo opinion on this?

first off it’s important to acknowledge that we are all struggling. by only tagging posts with ed related things, we avoid exposing non disordered people to our content as much as possible.

second it’s important to understand that this community helps a lot of people. before I made an edblr account a few weeks ago it wasn’t that I wasn’t disordered, only that I didn’t have a community where I could get safety tips and the like. by being here I feel seen, and I’m also a lot safer with my restriction by drinking fluids and stuff like that. I’ve also made friends for the first time who understand what im going through.

I don’t encourage this behaviour, and if any of my friends recovered i’d be happy for them. for now I appreciate the sense of belonging i’ve found.

I have never felt that edblr is making me worse.

[rweoutofthewoods]

Hi Mere I don't want to imply anything but I'm worried that your new relationship stopped helping you be creative and put out updates. Is your fiance not letting you write? I'm concerned about you.

Look, i appreciate your concern and I’m sure you have good intentions but let me set you straight.

I met my fiancé through writing. we used to write together every single night. They’ve been nothing but my biggest fan, my biggest supporter, the person I can turn to for honest and kind feedback. When I was writing Youngblood and I wrote a chapter I absolutely HATED it was them who encouraged me to rework it into something I was proud of and who didn’t let me give up and just hate myself for it.

And when I said I wanted to stop writing for a while let me tell you there was a big silence and they gave me a look of horror and asked if I was okay because YEAH, it’s very unlike me.

But first I want to say, that just because you guys have known about my relationship for a little while doesn’t mean that’s as long as it’s existed. I was happily in this relationship when I was pumping out 3 chaps a week, and I’m happily in it now that I’m posting 0.

The honest truth is I’m burnt the fuck out. I don’t want to write because I have zero interest in it right now. It doesn’t make me happy, I’m not motivated or burning to do it like I used to be. I wrote nonstop through my last two years of college, through graduating, through working a terrible food service job post grad, living in constant dread of what came next. I’m just burnt out. I’ve been pumping out jegulus nonstop since 2022, ofc I was going to lose steam and move away from it eventually.

Im just busy and tired! I’m moving in a few months, I have a full time job now, I go to work at 8am and come home at 5 or 6 and I don’t want to write. I want to spend time with my family or my friends or my fiancé. In December I worked for 17 days straight without a day off, I needed a break! And when I want comfort and happiness I don’t have to turn to writing to find it.

I’m mentally at the best I have been in a very long time, and I don’t need to write like someone has a gun to my head to cope anymore. I had a very unhealthy and obsessive relationship with writing. And I always joked when people asked how I wrote so much that it was mental illness. But it wasn’t really a joke, I was unwell and coping with fanfic. So while I’m sure some of you may be sad to see my writing slow, I hope you’re happy for me because it’s a good thing!! I want to heal my relationship with writing and I want it to be something I simply do for fun, not something to fill some hole inside of me.

So while I’m sure you mean well, I just want to remind you guys that you see a very small piece of my life and my relationship. So I’d appreciate not making assumptions 🩷

[adoreangelia]

All Summer ── . ꪆৎ

pairing: weirdo!pouge!reader x rafe cameron

warnings: none ?

summary: after leading y/n on and ghosting her. Rafe decides to go for her again. This time he’s serious, or is he?

a/n: This my first real writing since i’ve been on tumblr and it’s highkey bad. I look forward to growing with my writing and community. anyway, keep in mind what I said about writing! Also i tried to not use y/n sm ik some people don’t like that so yeah. Try to not criticize me too much (I might cry) enjoy 🤗.

It was the first bonfire of summer. Everyone circled around the warm lit fire as it crackled. Blowing in the breezy summer wind. Red cups and cans of beer everyone held in their hands as laughter filled the air. It was peaceful finally seeing the kooks and pouges finally get along (somewhat).

Not you though, you liked being alone. Seeing everyone toghether made you happy. Taking a sip of the canned beer that rested in your hand.

when a hand come to your shoulder. your body tensing for a moment before seeing the familiar face of sarah cameron.

“Why don’t you come over there with us, it’s really not that bad once you warm up to it!” Sarah cameron encourages— she’s been trying to get you to gather around like everyone else.

“You know I don’t do crowds, and besides-” you begin before being interrupted.

“Hey y/n…” a raspy voice comes up from behind. you turn around to see rafe cameron. His hair grown out buzz cut— eyes hanging low, dressed in a navy blue polo shirt and khaki shorts.

When sarah and you became friends she’d invite you over, practically begging you to cover for her and topper. while they ran off doing only God knows what. rafe would come in sarah room acting as if he had lost something previously.

Some how a conversation would spark between the two of you— him always initiating the conversation first of course.

Eventually he’d stopped coming in there when you were alone. you just figured sarah found out and told him to stop or maybe he just stopped because he wasn’t interested anymore.

anyway, over you just stopped coming after that. partly because it hurt your feeling how he’d just led you on— plus you were getting tired of sarah only inviting you over when she needed a “cover”.

“fuck off rafe, she doesn’t wanna talk to you.” sarah scoffs rolling her as at her at older boy.

“no- no, it’s okay, seriously.” you give a soft reassuring smile placing a hand on her forearm.

“whatever you say— i’m gonna go find top look for me whenever you two are done, kay?” she mumbles, you give a small nod in response.

before rafe speaks he watches his sister walk away, making sure she’s far enough to not hear you both.

“She don’t seem to thrilled about this does she?” he sighs. “How you been doll? I haven’t seen you around tanny hill in a while.” he questions leaning in closer to you leaning on the tree beside you two.

“I’ve been good, just got tired of having to cover for sarah all the time.” you rub him off— not wanting to bad mouth his own sister in front of him. but most of all not talk to him.

Though it was the truth. In reality you hated covering for sarah everytime you went over to her house. The only good thing about going over to tanny hill was rafe— after he stopped coming to see you. so you started dodging sarah whenever she was even close to asking you to come over.

“yea, guess that shit would get annoying over time.” he agrees. “sorry for kinda just “ghosting” you like that, got caught up in my head n’shit-”

“I don’t need an explanation, it’s whatever i guess..” you didn’t want his pity— it was his choice to just lead you on like. getting your hopes up as if something would happen between you two.

“But it wasn’t like that, I just had to get m’shit together come on doll you’n know that.” His hand reaches out pushing a strand of hair from your face.

rafe steps closer— closing the gap between you both as he brings his lips to your ear whispering something into it.

“just give me a chance, you know i got you all day”

“I-I don’t know, I mean what about sarah— and our friendship I don’t want anything to happen between us. Even though she gets on my nerves at times I love her and-” you ramble, trying to talking your way out of the situation.

“you don’t gotta tell sarah shit…” his tone is stern but not aggressive, he pauses in his word before continuing.

“look all i’m sayin’ is— you don’t gotta to tell her every fuckin’ detail about your life y/n.” He suggest.

“she’s your best friend n’shit but come on, you gotta life to live too.”

“please doll, just one chance.” His pale blue eyes bore into yours, almost as if they’re begging.

I mean come on, how can you say no to a face like that?

a/n: okay this ending is kinda lazy lol, but I can give you guys a part two if wanted.

[just-hyde]

AI is theft.

Character.Ai still uses **stolen** data. Support real artists and writers. RP with real people.

IAMREALpleasegimmeahotchocotugmeinandgimmeasinglegoodreasontoliiiveeeeaaaaAAAAAAA

*Breakdown joins the chat*

An anon? How courageous of you. /lh

Actually right now you did what many chatbot users do— hide behind Persona just in case people don't accept your writing/rp style. But it's easier to play safe, I give you that. Your mental health should be your first priority no matter what people say

I do my art, write snippets of text, develop OCs and RP with people, but still make chatbots on different platforms

Why?

For shits and giggles

But no, friends, seriously

We already live with that and apparently are gonna continue to, unless the authorities decide to step in

For me cai was a tool to improve my vocabulary since 1) not so many native speakers were willing/had time to help, 2) even if they did, we had jobs and damn timezones which made our coordination harder, 3) I found out that ppl were simply too shy to play

Recently I've learned the term "Cringe culture" which is cringe itself and hella annoying at that— some writers are fucking scared to post, to be met with toxicity instead of actually useful critique

Anywho, the topic is controversial af.

On one hand, it did writers dirty. Well, fuck. On the other hand, your T9 was also trained on something and I deem LLM no much smarter than a huge T9 [a predictive text technology which almost every keyboard for phones and tablets has]

The problem I see is that the ai developers didn't ask for any data

How much easier everything would go if they had manners and/or paid for some materials? I usually don't mind lending a pen if someone asks, but can bite one's hand off if they grab it

As you might've noticed, I wanna use this ask to bring up some other interesting topics

My man, I've heard enough of "Why trying if ai renders better than me/uses better words"

Anxiety.

That's what makes me sad

If we ever manage to change that, to make people realise that human-made art is a freaking precious treasure with hours of effort spent on it, maybe earth heals and unicorns return

You buy funny one-nickel-worth stuff from Aliexpress, no? That's AI. As well as a half-gnawled pencil one finds in their old school backpack to write down an anecdote they've just heard

It's easy to focus on the bad side

If fish is ill in a dirty tank, are you gonna add more sand? Pfftt. I assume you gonna change filters, scrub that bastard clean and add more lil fishies to make others feel less lonely, instead of rumbling that you shouldn't have gotten any new weeds for the the bowl in the first place, because, who would've guessed, fish eat that. And poop. —a process natural as breathing

My suggestion is that we try to create a safe space which would encourage writing outside of roleplay, make young artists feel safe regardless of their level of skill

Or maybe I'm too far from the Internet in general and don't understand why writing example messages for a silly toy is suddenly a bad thing when it encourages kids to try themselves in text RPGs without any risk of being judged for that

An interesting topic you gave me, really, I've spent some time contemplating about it

Feel free to suggest things that we, as a community, can do right here and right now, because, gods know, I'm personally unable to atta-ta a corporation for "using language we all speak", especially when chatbots have some features which would be a damn shame not to use in language learning since it's so engaging and teaches kids new words in a forgiving game-like way

Though I hope there will be some law regulating ai and the use of ai-made products soon. Let's give it some time