#ive been reading my textbook all day

[daydadahlias]

oh my god jess i saw the jellycat mood board u just rb’d and got the link copied to send it to you AND THEN I REALIZED THAT U JUST RB’D IT LMFAO not only have u pavloved is with the cows but you’ve pavloved me with jellycat too

i play y'all like a fiddle

[voulezloux]

.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. 

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.” 

 It was just a kiss. 

“Green Four check.” 

 It was just a-

“Green Five check.” 

Just a-

“Green Six check.” 

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.” 

It wasn’t just a kiss. 

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron. 

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad. 

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons. 

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne. 

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure. 

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide. 

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them. 

Simple. 

In theory. 

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy. 

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going? 

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice. 

You swallow. 

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart. 

I hadn’t just been a kiss. 

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline. 

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that. 

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead. 

It made a lot more sense. 

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own. 

They had always been close. Always. Best friends. 

Sickness bubbled in your throat. 

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it. 

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander. 

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?” 

Hank chortled. 

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist. 

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you. 

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?” 

Yeah. Now you had. 

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains. 

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet. 

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter. 

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch. 

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss. 

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence. 

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons. 

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands. 

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next. 

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed. 

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.” 

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname. 

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you. 

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.” 

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’ 

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on. 

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal. 

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay. 

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures. 

“Fuck.” 

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled. 

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!” 

“How far away is the Delta?” 

“Calling in attack pattern!” 

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game. 

That didn’t bode well. 

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction. 

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on. 

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!” 

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process. 

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?” 

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down. 

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard. 

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns. 

Good. 

But there’s so, so many of them. 

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems. 

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together. 

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing. 

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear. 

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through. 

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on. 

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter. 

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home. 

Frizz.

“No…” 

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal. 

Nothing. 

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz. 

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes. 

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist. 

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity. 

All you need is…

Another alarm. 

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!” 

A chorus of yells answer you. 

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely. 

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard. 

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot. 

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist. 

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected. 

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons. 

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull. 

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it. 

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact. 

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell. 

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire. 

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational. 

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on. 

Two chances left. 

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits. 

Poe shouts for you over the intercom. 

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will. 

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call. 

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit. 

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it. 

The canon doesn’t go down. 

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him. 

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do. 

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard. 

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down. 

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out- 

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

.

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream. 

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain. 

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob. 

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit. 

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it. 

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide. 

Make it look like you had a weapon. 

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning. 

Can’t let them take you alive. 

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down. 

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull  yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot. 

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue. 

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

.

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear. 

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds. 

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use. 

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back. 

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good. 

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?” 

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper. 

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-” 

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.” 

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe. 

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.” 

You snort. 

He smiles. 

“Who did we lose?” 

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. 

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red. 

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages. 

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes. 

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.” 

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away. 

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?” 

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.” 

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?” 

You nod. 

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart. 

“You pushed her away?” 

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…” 

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.” 

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes. 

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head. 

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating. 

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly. 

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.” 

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight. 

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins. 

You scoff. 

“You are.” He kisses you again. 

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home. 

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.” 

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.” 

You touch his cheek lightly. 

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?” 

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.” 

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper. 

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance. 

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted. 

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[lovaeri]

café, confessions & kisses ✶ 안톤 ( anton ) x gnr childhoodbsfs2lvrs + 391 cw mentions of food and death kissing not proof read lower case intended

( library © lovaeri; 2024 )

it was a late friday evening in the cafe, the air was thick with the scent of coffee and pastries and the quiet murmur of other students studying for their final exams. amidst them were you and your best friend anton. he had known you ever since you were young, a smile finding home on your face whenever you recalled the day he moved in next door. years later your friendship still thrived, often finding comfort in each other’s company.

“do you think if someone died during the exam id still have to take it?” you asked anton, voice laced with stress. he laughed at your question looking up from his textbook to face you, “you’d still have to take it either way, yn. you’ll be fine, we’ve been studying for weeks.” reassuring you.

he patted the seat beside him, gesturing you to sit closer, “cmon sit beside me, i’ll help you study.”. once you moved places anton began slowly explaining the subject. as he leaned closer to explain a particularly tricky topic, you felt your faces brush against each other, feeling your breath get caught in your throat, causing anton to pause.

in that fleeting moment of shared tension, you felt your hand tremble immediately trying to find the words to apologize, he leaned forward kissing you gently. time seemed to stand still as you both froze in surprise.

anton’s face flushed pink, his brain struggling to process what just happened. “ohmygoshimsorry” anton said, pulling away quickly and staring down at the text book.

you felt your heart pound in your chest and reached out tentatively, lifting antons chin to meet your gaze. “anton?” he looked at you with wide eyes, “ive liked you for so long.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

the room felt warmer and the atmosphere seemed to be filled with years of unspoken feelings, the hesitation melting away. without thinking your lips pressed against his once more as one of his hands reached up to softly holding your face in his palm, the other laying on the small of your back. “this is not how i wanted to confess to you.” he groaned one you both pulled away. giggling you rested your head against his shoulder, with your fingers intertwined.

love from rin ୨୧ first post yippee

all rights reserved; do not copy, translate or plagiarize any of my works 🐇

[poraphia]

Halloooo ^^ ..

I read a lot of ur stories and now Im in love with fictions :3 (might need therapy cuz of it but nvm that)

U an amazing writer <3

(Im pretty new to Tumblr so extremely sorry if this ends up where it shouldnt be or smth like that lol)

But anywaaay , Can I pls request a Wilbur Soot angst fic :D ?

Im going thru THAT phase rn so anything would be awsome really ..

Maybe a fight (unintentionally) breaks out between Wilby and reader and Wilby accidentally raises his voice and reader gets scared ? I know its a cheesy story and people might'a written before but I barely find Wilbur angst fics anymore :(((

Anyway , Thank u so much .. U dont have to write any of this if ur uncomfortable .. Hope ur doing okay :> .. Take care n' bye :D

"You’re Being Too Loud."

➵ PAIRING! cc!stressed!wilbur x stressed!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.12.23 | 1444 words

➵ CONTAINING! angst to comfort, wilbur is ignoring reader, reader lowkey has attachment issues, reader sensitive to loud noises, wilbs is overworked

➵ SAYING! hiii @toastyliltoasts41 welcome to tumblr! sorry for the late late response but i hope you enjoy :) personally going thru this myself especially w so much work ive been doing recently and also im noise sensitive (literally walk around with noise canceling headphones all the time). thank u for all the nice words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I slipped off my shoes and placed them near the doorstep. My socks glided against the furnished planks as I slid to our shared office. I dragged my backpack behind me, feeling the weight of my laptop, notebooks, and textbooks. Once I made it to the room, I placed my bag on the chair and unpacked all my belongings onto my desk.

Today was too exhausting, and the one thing I dreaded doing right now was to open my laptop and be faced with more work. Instead of taking my laptop with me, I grabbed my phone and dragged myself out of the office and into the bedroom.

After changing into my loungewear, I snuggled myself into silk sheets, shivering a little from the cold fabric wrapping around my body. Ignoring the chill, I held up my phone with both of my hands and swiped open the messaging app to text my boyfriend. I glanced at the past messages, realizing that Wil hasn’t responded to any of my messages from this afternoon. The last time he texted was this morning when was telling me what time he would come home. Sighing, I typed in another message in hopes that this time he would respond.

“Hey, I’m home now. Too tired to cook food today. Let’s order something when you get home? <3”

I clicked send before clicking off my phone and placing it on the nightstand. My eyes fluttered close, and slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke to the sound of footsteps clicking against the ground. With my hands I pushed my body up to examine the noise. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a familiar tall figure headed toward the office. A small smile formed on my face as I carefully got out of bed.

My bare freet pressed against the cream colored carpet. I wandered around the hallway before finding the office door slightly ajar. Through the crack I saw Wil hunched over his computer. His sweater’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his fingers hastily clicked against his keyboard. Quietly, I approached him from behind, throwing my arms around his shoulders and hugging him close.

Wil quietly hummed in response. I titled my head, pecking his cheek, but he didn’t react and instead his eyes stayed glue to his screen. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, but nonetheless, I continued hugging him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I mumbled in a croaky voice.

“Hey,” he replied blankly.

“Did you see my texts earlier today?”

“Uh huh,” He said absently. “I saw the message after I ate though. Sorry.”

I felt my chest tighten a little, hurting at his absence. All I wanted in the moment was a hug and a conversation about each other’s day, but instead, he was absorbed in his work and couldn’t even make the effort to look at me.

“Wil, can we talk?” I asked.

He slightly shook his head. “No, not right now, honey. This video has to be out by tomorrow and one of our editors hasn’t been feeling well so I took up the work.” He explained briefly.

“But you’re already busy working at the studio…” I mumbled.

“I know, but I can finish this up by tonight. Just give me some time, please.” He requested. My heart skipped a little, feeling like a dog that had been put aside for a brand new puppy.

“Wil, you haven’t talked to me all day. Could we at least just have dinner together?” I nearly pleaded.

“I already said I just ate, (y/n).” Wil said rather sternly. “Please can I just finish my work?”

“But I want to spend time with you.” I said, speaking up a little bit. I unwrapped my hands away from him and stepped back a little. He turned his chair a little to face me with one of his hands still on the keyboard. He looked up at me, a stressed but furrowed expression on his face. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my own chest.

“I want to spend time with you but you’re basically prioritizing this work over me.” I said again. “I understand that sometimes you have too much work. I understand that. But we haven’t been spending time with each other for the past few days and it’s driving me crazy. I just want to relax with you, Wil.” I bit the insides of my cheek. Wil, in turn, sighed and rubbed his nosebridge.

“I’m not prioritizing work over you, (y/n), I’ve just been busy lately and this argument is just stressing me out even more.” His words were spat out like venom.

“Which is why I’m asking that we just spend time together! This isn’t just for me, but it’s for you too.” I threw my hands up, frustrated. “Wilbur, we can relax together! You’re acting like this isn’t stressing me out either!”

Wil got up from his seat now. His tall figure nearly towered over me, making me slightly cower. “I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING RELAX RIGHT NOW, (Y/N)! I HAVE SHIT TO DO!”

I stepped back, nearly stumbling. Without realizing, tears were running down my burning hot cheeks. The air went cold and I felt this hallowing emptiness surrounding me. A ringing was bouncing in my eardrums and goosebumps ran through my arms and legs. He looked down at me, eyes wide as if he just realized what words escaped his lips. Before he could say a word, I walked out of the office and back into bed, slamming the door behind me.

I jumped into the mattress and buried my face deep under the sheets. I quietly sobbed into the fabric, not caring for the tears darkening the silk. It didn’t take but a couple minutes later to hear the creaking of the door and soft footsteps approaching the bed. I lied still under the covers as I felt the mattress dip from a newfound weight.

Wil sat there for a while. His knee shook a little, making a tiny thumping noise against the floor. I was turned away from him with his lower back lightly pressing against the heel of my foot.

“(y/n)..?” He softly called out for me. “Are you awake..?”

I shifted a little, moving my foot away from him to let him know I was listening. He sighed with his leg coming to a stop.

“(y/n), I’m sorry. I—I’ve just been really stressed, but that gives me no right to start yelling at you. And me being really busy has been taking away the time with you.” He paused a little bit, presumably licking his lips. I still didn’t have the courage to move. Instead I laid still, not daring to move. “I’m really sorry, (y/n).” He apologized again.

A deep sigh huffed from my nostrils before I sat up, letting the sheets cascade off my body. He turned his head to look at me, his feet still planted on the ground. I looked into his eyes, seeing the pained looked deep in those irises.

“Y-You know I don’t like loud noises.” I croaked out, my voice cracking with my words. He slowly nodded, bringing his legs up on the bed to fully face me. “And I really don’t like it when you yell. Please, I really just wanted to spend time together.”

“And we will spend time together.” He grabbed my hands and cradled them in his. “I’ll message Elodie right now if she could finish the work. But right now, it’s going to be me and you together, okay? We can maybe catch up on our show and I’ll order some food for you, okay?” He reassured, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. “Maybe I’ll steal some fries from you every once in a while.”

I giggled a little. “Noooo! Get your own food!” I whined, lightly pushing his shoulder. He chuckled in response before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his torso in response, breathing in his scent.

“I just missed you, Wil, you know that…” I softly whispered. He nodded, running his fingers through my hair.

“I missed you too. I promise I do.” He whispered back. His voice was low and deep but he made sure to maintain his volume. It was soothing, something I could fall asleep to,

and most importantly,

it wasn’t loud.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ hope you enjoyeddd notes of all kind are super duper appreciated! if you wanna be in a taglist or an anon my inbox is always freee :D ALSO SURPRISE!! TWO ONESHOTS IN ONE DAY I AM ON A ROLLLL

[cowboy-robooty]

something that i think is sooooo stupid is this obsession people have with being "good for their age" at art. i know a million people say this and talk about this sentiment being harmful already but i really do think it is a terrible way to think about things. Art is a skill just like being good at math or playing basketball and I think its stupid when people put the worth of their skillset in tandem with their age because also it completely disregards the notion of how everybody lives in different ways. Michaelangelo was so good at art not only because he was a genius but also because bro literally woke up every mf day and only drew since he was a little baby so no shit he could make amazing sculptures in his early 20s. Everyone lives with so many different responsibilities and different amounts of freetime, so really i think its quite stupid to say someone is "good for their age" because that doesnt say anything about their ability to budget their time or naturally progress or commit to the grind despite everything or really anything at all since you dont have any idea about what kind of life they live. There are crazy artists out there who go to cram school for 11 hours a day on top of extracirriculars + volunteer work and still manage to create with the same skill level as someone who is the president of going home club. You dont know the resource of time that is ACTUALLY avaliable to one person compared to others using their age, so its stupid to act as though that its such a big deal. I personally dont think ive ever been good at drawing for my age and thats fine because I dont care about that. I could be good at drawing for my age if i committed more freetime to practicing it, but i dont because i dont want to. just like how i could be a super scholar whiz at chemistry or something but im not because I dont want to spend all my freetime doing problems and reading textbooks. I dont think the progress id make in those kinds of skills are worth missing watching a movie with my friends or learning how to bake a cake or enjoying a walk on a trail. I think anybody can be a genius at anything if they put their mind to it, but it also comes at great suffering most of the time because a lot of sacrifices have to be made and being able to embrace the choices you make with the limited time you have is important to being happy with what you have. Like yknow celebrating the stuff you were able to collect instead of mourning all the things you wish you had. I think only very few people are actually good at art for their age, like how einstein is one of the few people who was for real smart for his age and that is okay because what matters is having something you feel passion in doing. For a lot of people if they actually forced themselves to sacrifice what they needed to in order to be "good for their age" they would probably lose the passion in their craft during that process; which is probably one of the only ways to make the skill of drawing useless.

[alltheyoungmoons]

The Gift pt. IV

13+ - Complete - Pt. I - Pt. II - Pt. III - 1.5k Words - ATYD Timeline Compliant

As much as Sirius hated being busy, his last semester at Hogwarts was so eventful that all the time he would’ve gladly dedicated to dilly-dallying was now the only time he had to actually study. And if Sirius didn’t have time to spare, he thought that Lily probably wished there could be 30 hours in a day, because she was the busiest girl on the planet, and they barely saw each other outside of class or meals. This meant that the Bespectacles had been quietly sitting in Lily’s trunk waiting to be tested until just a couple of days before the 10th of March, when Lily burst into the Marauder’s dorm during an individual study period, grinning madly.

“Black! Are you decent?” She swung the door open, peeking through the fingers she had raised over her eyes.

“Godrick, Evans, what happened to knocking?” He admonished her, rolling on his back quickly. He was not about to be found lying belly down on the bed, kicking his legs in the air like a schoolgirl by Lily Evans. He was also secretly peeved by the fact that he was not only decent, but was also studying. Remus had refused to bunk off Care of Magical Creatures, leaving Sirius alone with his Divination textbook.

“They work!” Lily sang, approaching Sirius and Remus’s bed. She produced the wiry pair of reading glasses from her robe pocket “They work! I was patrolling with Christopher Barley the other night and he told me about a Hufflepuff first year in Moony’s study group who was having trouble only with theory stuff and never practical magic - like Remus in first year! Chris was asking at what age muggle schools teach people to read…anyway, I figured this boy, Fionn, and Remus must have the same problem!” She was starting to run out of breath “I tracked him down and had him try them on, they work! He could read! Poor love was stunned, didn’t know what was going on.” She chuckled breathlessly. 

Sirius was elated, and offered her a genuine, warm smile. He knew Lily would’ve figured it out in the end. Now there was only one last thing to do. 

“That’s great, Lily, you fox” he extended a hand “Now give them here, we can’t have Moony sporting the same glasses as my great-great-grandfather Betelgeuse”

Lily sniggered and handed him the pair. Sirius was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, the glasses resting on the open textbook before him. 

He had thought long and hard about which style to give them, and he had finally settled on a pair that he saw in a photo of that muggle actor, Robert Redford. He looked so hot in those glasses. Sirius visualised them in his mind and tapped the Bespectacles gently with his wand: in a moment they had muted to the form he had envisioned. Lily gasped under her breath.

Sirius looked up at her with a big grin and handed them back. The redhead squeezed him in a hug and gave him a peck on the cheek, and fluttered outside. 

***

The next Friday was, finally, Moony’s birthday. Sirius woke him early with a surprise snog, before James and Peter got up, as they were sure to jump on the bed to greet the birthday boy, as it was tradition. He wanted to have Remus all for himself before he had to share him with everyone else for the next twenty-four hours. They kissed quietly for a long time, remaining almost immobile, holding hands under the pillows. They then heard James’ familiar footsteps and broke apart, smiling and bracing themselves for the attack. 

After the usual birthday rituals, the yelling, chanting and exchanging of gifts, the boys got ready for breakfast; it was a school day after all. Sirius gave him a year supply of chocolate frogs, but that was only a preliminary gift; he wanted to give him his true present later, when they where alone. 

The next time Sirius caught Remus on his own was before dinner, when he got back to the dorm to change out of his uniform. The tall boy was lying supine on their bed, feet dangling out of the bed frame, his arm stretched over his head, holding a book. Typical Moony. 

“Sirius!” He called, bolting straight up in a sitting position. 

“Hey, handsome” Sirius smiled, slyly. He noticed a gold gleam around Remus’ eyes. Ah, Lily must’ve given him her present. 

“Look!” The other boy exclaimed. Sirius sat down on the edge of the bed beside him, and looked up at his boyfriend’s lightly freckled face. 

“Don’t you look half distinguished, Professor Lupin” he teased, planting a kiss on Remus’ perpetually chapped lips. “Where are these from?” He asked, nonchalantly. He had decided to let Lily take all the credit after all, so now he had to pretend to be surprised, hoping to be convincing. He'd never been a good liar. 

“They were Lily’s present! She expanded on the reading aid she made me in second year and somehow turned it into glasses! This way it’s much more discreet and practical.” Remus was beaming. Discreet and practical was Moony to a T, if you didn’t know him better. 

“That’s amazing” Sirius nodded. He studied Remus’ face with this new addition, after hours of daydreaming. Overall the large frame complemented his long face very well, and the square-ish shape of the lenses suited him. They were gold-plated, which caught the flecks of amber in his eyes and made them stand out even more. The colour of the metal went perfectly with his slightly tanned skin tone and light brown curls. They had a double bridge which rested over the dent of the scar on his nose, hiding it slightly. He thought Moony might’ve appreciated that. 

Sirius caught his hazel eyes, which were now examining him from behind the lenses. He was smirking wickedly.

“I don’t think you’ve ever been quiet for this long,” he said in that low voice that made his chest vibrate, and Sirius’ insides twisted in the best way.

 “I don’t think you’ve ever looked this fit,” Sirius replied, dazed. Who knew glasses could be this sexy? This was a revelation - why hadn’t he thought of this before?

“They’re really doing it for you, huh?” Remus chuckled, raising his head a bit, but careful to not break the spell that was passing between them. Sirius blushed and Remus laughed, casually pushing the glasses up his nose. He was already picking up those small automatic gestures James had, only in a devastatingly hotter, more charming way. Sirius swallowed dryly. 

“To think I was worried you’d think I looked like a sodding swot” Remus continued, tantalising. They both knew James and Peter were due back any minute, so it was incredibly dangerous to keep flirting like this, but it was so hard to resist.

“Oh but you are a swot Moony, you just also happen to be superbly good-looking.” 

Remus finally closed the distance between them, grinning against Sirius’ mouth. Sirius found himself quickly out of breath as Remus moved to hover over him, and he lay down propping himself on his forearms, careful to not lay down all the way, or it’d be the end of him. They kissed for a long time, and once Remus’ glasses slid down his nose bumping into Sirius, so he gently pushed them up to place them over the boy’s head, his curls getting stuck in them, all the while still kissing, and he peeked with one eye and stifled a moan, he could not believe how these stupid glasses had him under their figurative thumb. Sirius sighed, and could feel that Remus was still smiling, trying to move closer. He knew he ought to stop him before they ended up flashing poor Petey again, but he found he now had the willpower of a Flobberworm and did not care, laying down, slackening his tie and starting to work on Remus’s shirt buttons…

Suddenly, Remus froze and looked up, nostrils twitching. His lips were now pink and shiny, no more chapped and purple from the furious nervous biting.  Sirius was looking at him with a desperate sort of wanting, wishing they could apparate literally anywhere else and finish what they started. He didn’t even realise he was nervously twisting one of his charcoal curls on his index finger. Remus looked down at him and raised an amused eyebrow. 

“Sorry Pads, they’re coming up now,” he said gently, putting his glasses back on and reaching for his book. Sirius puffed and closed his eyes, relishing the feeling that was burning in him. He was learning that patience could be quite a virtue, on that front. 

“Who’s ready for a par-tayyy” James bellowed swinging the door open, Peter in tow. He glanced at the two boys laying nonchalantly on the bed, their ears still red and cheeks flushed, and sniggered.

“My my my Moony, you look quite fetching in those glasses” He winked. “Welcome to the club”.

------ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒹 ------

Ok here it is! This was my first actual fic so let me know what you think. I didn't have a plan it just sort of came out building off of the bespectacled!Remus hc that is near and dear to my heart. If you have thoughts/suggestions/requests for me just shoot me an ask! I'd love to use this as an outlet to practice my fiction writing :)

[nilti-luck]

Ooh i saw someone else do a langblr intro and thought yea i should also…do that

Hihi im Nilti Luck!

Im an aerospace engineer who likes to game and make cool things, be it art, minecraft builds, jokes, animations, friends, etc etc :)

Im learning Japanese on my own, im attempting to be self taught using resources i find online, but if anyone is willing to answer questions i have hmu! I have many but the only person i know who speaks Japanese are my relatives that dont like us and my friend who only knows conversational. So my questions are usually answered through intensive googling or just not at all t-t

My recent questions included things like:

Q: What ways are notebooks written in for Japanese? We know books are printed opposite to the western way, is it the same for writing in notebooks?

A: from what i can tell, no! They are written in the same way you would a notebook in english, provided you are writing horizontally, if writing vertically it would be from right to left (and as such probably from the “back” cover to the “front”?) yea i found a lot about the directional rules for writing but not the page directions :/

Q: how does dyslexia affect Japanese readers?

A: dyslexia is way more varied and complex than i thought wow, and it does and doesnt for some people! You can have dyslexia for one language but read with ease in another??

And other unrelated, hard to easily google topics 😭

I am currently at level 8 of WaniKani, but ive been studying Japanese slowly since May of 2022! I started with Duolingo but got really bored with it, the stress of having to do a lesson every day sucked a lot of fun out of it. I got to day 666 for the memes and have since deleted the app, which is further justified by them adopting AI practices.

Im just now dipping my toes into basic grammar structures using a textbook i found, and also working to write down things that ive learned to help me get a sense that im actually studying something. I also heard that writing kanji helps you to remember them so i am also doing that. Look at my cute notebook!

[wavypotatochips]

Heyy can I request something soft and calm with Trent when u have a very bad day so he tries to make you happy to stay home with you on a rainy and cold day🥹

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐀𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Trent Alexander-Arnol x Female Reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 1.8k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: I don't watch Liverpool so I wasn't too sure of Trent's personality, but I did my best as always! I also tweaked your request a bit so I hope you do not mind ((: I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, Ive finished 4/7 request that I currently have and will schedule them to be posted throughout the week so be on the look out for your request c: <33 ♥

The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance as you sit at your desk, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and a dimly lit lamp. The rain is pouring down outside, pattering against the windowpane like an incessant drumbeat. You've been studying for hours, but the information just doesn't seem to be sticking. You read a page of notes, and it seems like the words are just jumbled letters on a page. You try to remember the names of the bones in the human body, but they all blur together in your mind. You continue to review the information, trying different study techniques like creating flashcards, drawing diagrams, and taking practice quizzes. But the more you try, the more frustrated and stressed you become. You take a deep breath and try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting. You got this you got this, you think to yourself. You start to feel a knot in your stomach as the realization sets in that you might not be ready for this exam. You try to reassure yourself that you've studied as much as you can, but the fear of failure creeps in. As you delve into your notes, lightning flashes in the sky, illuminating the room for a split second before disappearing just as quickly. The flicker of light startles you for a moment, but you quickly regain your composure and return to your studies. As the morning goes on, you become more and more exhausted, both mentally and physically. You're running out of time, and the pressure is building. You want to cry, scream, or just give up. But you know that you can't afford to do any of those things. You have to push through and keep studying, even if it feels like it's all for nothing.You began studying at six in the morning, and it is now three o'clock. Since you are studying for your current class, Anatomy and Physiology, Trent has not bothered you because he understands how important it is for you to be by yourself so you can concentrate. After all, majoring in Sports medicine is not the easiest thing in the world. 

Trent yells, "Babe," and lifts his fist to knock. After a little wait, there was no response. He knocks once more, this time slightly louder, but there is still no answer. When he gently opens the door, he sees you seated in the desk chair with papers all over the place and your head down against the textbook. 

You do not hear Trent as you are too lost in your mind so feeling his hand touch your shoulder causes you to jump up and quickly turn your head. Just by the way you are looking at him he could tell something was wrong. You are always beaming with light, Trent would say if someone asked him to describe you, your smile could light up the whole room. Your eyes are always so lovingly that each time you would look into his eyes, it would cause his heart to tug. But right now, you have a slight frown on your face and your eyes are droopy. You look up into his eyes as he stares down at you, analyzing. You see he is wearing a black tracksuit and has his futebol bag in his hand, “Oh you came in to tell me you are heading out for practice? Have fun,” you give him a small smile as if you are feeling okay, and of course Trent does not buy it. When it is raining, or in this case thunderstorming, they usually practice inside so it is no surprise that he still is about to head out. You are about to turn around, but then hear him speak, “Did you eat yet?” You shake your head no, “I haven't had time…. Or should I say I don't feel the need to?” “Didn't you say the exam is on Friday?,” he questions, causing you to nod your head. Today is Monday, but of course anatomy is not something you can just study at the last minute in hopes to pass the test. He stares at you for a few minutes, before dropping his bag and grabbing your hand. “Come on, you've been studying all morning and it is draining you.” As he grabs your hand to pull you out of your seat you begin to protest,”But Trent I-” “You will be fine. You studied today, and you can continue to study more tomorrow. But, Don't try to study all day because that's when your brain goes into overdrive… Plus I don't think the thunderstorm is helping you right now,” and as if on cue- a loud roar of thunder can be heard. You sigh, nodding your head, giving in. He smiles as he takes you out of the study room, bringing you into the living room and notions for you to sit down on the couch. He picks up the remote from the coffee table, handing it to you, “Pick out a movie for us to watch and I will be right back.” You are about to question where he is going, but he is already quickly leaving the room. You bite your bottom lip, exhaling a deep sigh as you mentally give in and try to destress yourself. You begin to flip through Netflix to try and find a movie for you two to watch.

Meanwhile, Trent stood in the kitchen, staring at the open fridge, trying to decide what to make for you since you more than likely have not eaten yet. He knew he wanted to make something fulfilling, yet light on the stomach. He scanned the shelves, looking for inspiration. He saw some fresh vegetables, a carton of eggs, and some cheese. He decided to make you a vegetable omelet, as he knew you loved them.He quickly chopped up some onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and sautéed them in a pan. Then he whisked some eggs in a bowl, added a splash of milk, and poured them into the pan. As the omelet started to set, he sprinkled some cheese on top and folded it over. He plated the omelet, along with a side of fresh fruit and some toast. He also poured a glass of orange juice, knowing it was your favorite.Trent carries the breakfast to the living room, where he sees you sitting on the couch, looking stressed and tired. He presents you with the plate, and a warm smile.

"Here you go, my love," he said. "I made you a vegetable omelet, just the way you like it." The aroma from the food fills your nostrils, instantly making your stomach grumble to remind you just how hungry you unconsciously are. You smile as you grab the plate from him, thanking him, and instantly grab the fork to begin to eat. Trent sits down beside you, watching you intently as you savor each bite of your meal. He couldn't help but admire your beauty, from the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders to the way your eyes sparkled in the light. As you take another bite, Trent's mind begins to wander. He thought about all the times you two had spent together, laughing, talking, and just being with each other. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have such an amazing girl in his life. Lost in his daydream, Trent didn't even notice when you finished your meal and looked up at him. "What are you thinking about?" you ask, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. Trent blinks, snapping out of his reverie. "Oh, nothing," he replies sheepishly, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks as his smile never leaves his face,allowing his dimple to peek through, "I was just admiring how beautiful you are.". "Oh hush you are soooooo cheesy!,” You laugh, shaking your head, “Thank you for the food baby," you say, leaning to give him a quick kiss. Trent feels his heart swell with love for you as he pecks your lips. As you browse Netflix once more, you lean against his side and put your arm around his. "Let's watch Scary movie 2," you suggest. Trent releases his arm from your grasp and wraps it around you so that your head can rest on his chest as you continue to speak, "It's dumb but it's funny." Trent leans his head against yours as you click on the movie. He kisses the top of your head, "Anything for you, love.” He tells you to wait a second before stepping away from you once more just as you are about to start the movie. He then stands up and walks through the hallway. A short while later, he returns, with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, saying, "Alright, I'm ready now."

When the movie is over, you decide to just have a "movie day" and keep binge-watching films.

Now halfway through the second movie, you and Trent are cuddled up on the couch wrapped in the cozy blanket he brought prior . The TV's quiet hum and the pelting rain on the windows from the storm that is forecast to last all day were the only sounds coming from the living room. As a result of feeling so calm and at ease in Trent's arms, you start to feel quite exhausted. He watches as you snuggle closer to him,your head resting on his chest, and he feels a wave of tenderness wash over him. He knows school has been stressing you out lately, with exams and assignments piling up, and he wants nothing more than to take care of you. He ran his fingers gently through your hair, soothing you as you closed your eyes and relaxed. Trent feels a deep sense of responsibility towards you. He wants to be there for you, to support you in every way possible, and to make sure you know how much you mean to him. As he looks down at you, he knows that he is willing to do anything to make you happy. He begins to think about all the little things he could do to make you feel better in times like this - make you breakfast in bed tomorrow, send flowers to your university to surprise you, etc. He knew that these small gestures could make a big difference and help you feel loved and supported during this stressful time. He hugs you tightly as you snuggle even closer.  He knows that he will always be there for you, no matter what. He vowed to himself the day he asked you out that he will take care of you, to support your dreams, and to be your partner in everything you both do. And as he looks down at your angelic sleeping state, he feels grateful for every moment you two have shared and looks forward to a future filled with love, laughter, and cuddles on the couch.

[gothhabiba]

hi! sorry to bother and if you've answered this before. of course, you dont have to answer this. you mentioned in one post that you were still learning Darija and also your posts on scolarship are very interesting. ive been trying for a while to learn my dad's language since i didn't grew up speaking it, but have always been interested in persian literature and the evolution of the language so this has been a difficulty for me. i was wondering if you have any tips on improving the way a language is learned, since you're amazing at explaining things and making even complicated subjects clear.

Thank you and have a nice weekend!

Thanks for the compliment!

I don't think that I have anything like my own original foolproof method for learning languages; this is the first language I've self-taught for which there aren't a lot of materials, and everyone learns differently. Here's what I've been doing & what I can broadly recommend when learning a language for which there isn't an enormous amount of teaching material:

Be specific about what it is that you want to do in the language. Chop this up into small sections. So, instead of "I want to learn [language]" (an enormous, vague, impossible task—even native speakers do not know 100% of their languages), think "I want to be able to understand recipes," or "go to the market or a restaurant," or "make small talk and general conversation," or "text friends and family," or "read literature," or "read theory" (and for those last two goals you might have a waypoint goal of "read storybooks" or "read materials intended for language-learners or children").

I began by learning the Arabic script (resources for this abound, and the abjads used for Persian and Darija only add a few characters), and I always write Darija in this script (even though most people write it in the Latin script) to get practice.

I also learned the standard phonology at this point. But the phonology for Persian and Darija are different and involve fewer consonants than Arabic, since some of them have merged, so you won't need to worry about the Standard or Classic pronunciaton of some of the letters. The Wikipedia page for Persian phonology should be a good resource; the IPA symbols for various sounds are noted, and they have explanations of how the sounds are produced and playback that you can listen to. Note that there are obviously regional variations in phonology, but this is a good start. This is a script with a pretty standard orthography, so at this point you can theoretically pronounce any word you read (with diacritics).

cut for length:

I took inspiration from how I had been taught French and divided information up into "units" (first greetings and introductions; then numbers and colours; then telling time; then time including days of the week and months of the year, words for "today" and "yesterday" &c.; the weather; family; then personal pronouns "I" "you" "me" &c. and the verb "to have" to begin forming simple sentences such as "I have three sisters" or whatever—you'd also want to learn "to be" at this point, but Darija doesn't often use it—then I decided that my first priority after very basic conversation was cooking, so I learned terms for food items and cooking verbs).

If you can find online resources or textbooks that will teach you things in units of this type, all the better (I got started on speakmoroccan.com). If you can't, try following an online course or textbook for learning another common language (such as French, German, Spanish, English) but substitute out the vocabulary terms by using a dictionary (for Darija I used tajinequiparle).

You may be able to find some materials (at least greetings, introductions, numbers and the like) on YouTube—I recommend using these even if you can find these same terms elsewhere, to get practice listening to the language.

I feel that I learn best from textbooks and by understanding the syntax and grammar of sentences in depth. However, the materials I've consulted for Darija (and there aren't too many materials in existence) tend to give lists of words but no grammar, or example sentences that are translated in full with no explanation. Even materials that do go into the grammar (such as the Lonely Planet phrasebook) are targeted at tourists and do so with an ethos of "good enough" that may fudge the details to make them more similar to French (which is the language the book is in). So I write down and compile example sentences that I come across (there's an English/Darija dataset already in existence to help with this kind of thing) and compare them to each other to determine which word means what, which affix might be the marker for past tense or infinitive or the object pronoun or whatever, and write down my guesses to test as I go. This may be more difficult without an education in linguistics, but probably not impossible.

I separate my studying into two phases, which I go back and forth between: creating study materials, and learning from those materials. Creating study materials means finding words and writing them down in my little book, figuring out grammar and writing out the rules, writing down example sentences, and making flashcards to learn vocabulary terms (with one or more example sentences on each one).

Studying from those materials involves running through the flashcards and coming up with new example sentences for each term (so I see the side of the flashcard with the English "banana" and come up with a sentence in Darija that's something like "they have eight yellow bananas"). You could also have flashcards separated by category (pronouns / numbers / verbs / nouns / adjectives) and pick a flashcard at random from a few categories (the selection "I" / "sixteen" / "want" / "new" / "oranges" prompts you to construct and speak the sentence "I want sixteen new oranges" in your target language); this is basically analogue duolingo.

As you go about your day, name objects and colours you see and talk to yourself about actions you undertake; try to 'translate' as many thoughts as you can into your target language.

You can also construct dialogues or short compositions at the end of each "unit" you finish. Write a dialogue between two friends greeting each other after not having seen each other for a while. Write a composition about your family members; explain how they're related to you, what they look like, &c. Look up any vocabulary that you notice you're missing.

Once you have a decent vocabulary base, you'll be able to start reading. If you can find writing that's intended for children or language learners, that's great! There may also be fora or message boards online devoted to conversation in your target language. If you can find a dictionary from the target language to a language you understand, this becomes a lot easier—unfortunately I haven't found one for Darija (the lack of a standardised orthography would probably make one difficult to make). Persian has a history of being written that Darija doesn't, so you may have more luck on this score than I did.

I have an "index" in the back of my little book with abbreviations for each of the sources that I get vocabulary from, and I use these abbreviations to take note of where I got sentences, phrases, and vocabulary terms from (whether dictionaries, textbooks, youtube, online courses, online fora, reddit, academic / linguistic articles, &c.). This is so that I can return to these sources and verify what I've written down, just in case; and also because different vocabulary terms are used in different regions, so it's a good idea to have a way to look up who uses which terms.

If I come across anything by serendipity (whether in an academic article about some sociological aspect of Darija, or in the dictionary I've been using, since there's no complete words list that I can find so serendipity is the only way to discover some of the words that are in it), I write it down then and there regardless of how useful I think it will be to me immediately. This is because I have no way of knowing whether I'll ever come across it again! I don't need to memorise it right away, but maybe I'll want to learn it later.

I don't think this will help you, but for some minority languages or dialects there may be a colonial language other than English in which materials for that language are easier to access (for example, I tend to search for Darija resources in French, not English).

[definitelynotshouting]

Hi Hello! Just wanted to pop in to say your writing is incredible. Everytime I open a fic of yours, I can feel the words weaving themselves into my brain, forever tattooed underneath my eyelids.

The way you write, it always creates this big heavy thing inside of my chest, similar to the exact moment I discovered the meaning of the word catharsis, thumbing over the definition in some textbooks.

You simply create a world of your own, and in a few sentences I am helplessly pulled along. I'm no longer reading a quick sucession of words, but a real tangible story.

There's just something so vivid about it, colors, shapes and feelings bursting through my screen like I'm discovering some kind of new dimension to writing I've never been privy to before.

In the span of the day it took for me to read all your fics (excluding the Hunger AU, for which I'm patiently waiting for chapter 10 so I can binge it all in one go, knowing I would probably go insane over it) you have rightfully earned the title of my favorite author.

I wish you the best, for you to keep doing what you enjoy, I'll probably read any of your works no matter how silly or short they might be. <3

Oh my gods ;;;;;;;; waking up to both this and all your comments on my fics was one of the nicest things in the WORLD-- this is so kind?? Holy shit???? Im literally speechless thank you so much for taking the time to comment on all my works, thats like a dream come true for most authors 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and your comments are all so sweet and detailed!!!! Im so normal rn im so normal AKSAKWDJAKDNAKDNSKS 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Also oh my gods favorite author??? What if i cried /pos. What if i started sobbing right here in this ask SKDNANDNSS im just genuinely so touched rn and so deeply deeply flattered you like my writing so much!!! :D if you feel this way about all my works now, i cannot wait for you to read hunger au, which has what i think is arguably some of my best writing in it lately. Ive been incredibly nitpicky about chapter 10, but im hoping it should be done sometime soon hehe

GWUHHH THANK YOU FOR THIS DEEPLY KIND ASK I TRULY APPRECIATE IT 🥺🥺🥺🥺 THIS IS ME FR RN I HOPE U ARE HAVING AN EXCELLENT DAY!!!!!! AAAAAAAAA

[wrongcaitlyn]

I'm sure you've mentioned this before in previous chapters, and I just don't remember, but Will doesn't speak Greek, right?? So does that mean that Apollo never taught him, or was his greek just not good enough to teach him? 😭😭 (ignoring the fact that Apollo had neither the mentality nor the will to teach his son a foreign language at the time)

Orrr, I feel like it's very possible that Apollo just isn't very fluent in Greek anymore bc he doesn't have anyone to talk to. Also, bc he hasn't actually been in Greece in years but like idk

This is probably such a stupid question, but I was just thinking about how Nico's first language is Italian and how overtime he might lose one of the little things that connect him to Bianca 😭😭

Then ofc, my mind drifted to Apollo and about him being fluent in Greek- IDK MAN ANYWAYS I THINK I RAMBLED ENOUGH HAVE A GOOD DAY‼️🫶🫶

ahshhd omg i love this question!! i don’t think ive ever talked about it so the short answer is that no, will doesn’t know greek, he only knows a high school level spanish in this au😭

i actually imagine that apollo didn’t grow up in greece, but in the us (specifically la/hollywood)

his mom probably tried to teach it to him (bc leto is the literal best) but with everything else that he had going on, he just didn’t have the time to ever learn it - his dad always focused more on all of his other hobbies/jobs and his schedule was overloaded enough as it was

but i do imagine that in those years when raising will, he tried to learn it again, just to get in touch with his roots. this is also probably when he first read like the iliad and the odyssey bc i doubt that he read it when he was younger (once again, schedule overload) and generally just tried to learn more abt his heritage and stuff, bc his dad never really brought it up to him

he had been to greece a few times, once for the olympics and a few times for concerts, but he was never really around much to sight see (which, if you noticed, is why i had him going to tourist attractions with nico in athens, when most of the time he tends to stay in the venue or the hotel or tour bus to avoid attention/paparazzi)

but back to the main question - apollo didn’t try to teach will greek bc he was just barely learning it himself, but im sure he’d definitely want will to learn it one day - especially when he would see leo fluent in spanish and nico fluent in italian and thinking how it would be nice to connect will to his culture as well

as for nico, i promise he definitely holds on to italian as a connection to bianca - the last remaining one, too. i think that sometimes he gets scared that he’s abt to forget it, or sometimes his mind will blank on a word and he’ll be terrified (which, tbf, happens in all languages, im bilingual (or trilingual if u count my ap french class which i don’t😭) and forgetting words happens no matter how much u practice) - and so he’ll just talk to himself in italian a bit

i ALSO imagine that whenever he’s talking solely to chiara, they speak in italian. he probably was very excited to hire her for the tour when finding out she was also from italy, and they’re able to sort of keep that going even when traveling the world!

i think by this point, apollo is nearly fluent in greek, but like, the textbook sort of knowing a language. like, he’s memorized all the vocab and grammar and stuff but he’d be a bit clueless in an actual conversation. him attempting to practice his greek in athens would def be hilarious and now i’m sort of upset i didn’t write that💀💀

thank u for the askshkdjs i absolutely love rambling abt apollo and nico likeee ahdksj. so many things i hadn’t even thought abt!!

oh ALSO. ONE OF MY FAV HC’S ABT NICO is that he absolutely loves studying languages. despite being dyslexic, he picks the speaking and understanding part of languages up super easily

so i’m just imagining nico and apollo on the tour bus learning new languages together and nico picking up greek as well so they’ll sometimes try to have conversations in that as well just to practice

they both definitely have duolingo downloaded and are constantly trying to beat each other on the leaderboards

[spell-cleaver]

Day 2: Anxiety

I think I’m in over my head.

We’ve just been floating about the Falcon all day since we escaped the Death Star—the Rebellion is on Yavin IV, and apparently it’s a few days in hyperspace. I can still hardly believe Ben’s gone. Han asked me why I’m going to the Rebellion—he’s going for the money—and I wish I’d had a better answer for him than I have nowhere else to go.

The princess—Leia—is kind. Yesterday she comforted me over Ben’s death after we escaped the Death Star; I learnt today that she watched Alderaan get destroyed. She was dealing with that, but she comforted me anyway. She’s stronger—and kinder—than anyone I know.

The conversation I learned that in, though, was… I dunno. I asked her how she knew Ben, since he spent all my life on Tatooine, and she’s the same age as me.

She gave me a strange look. “General Kenobi was a war hero,” she said. When she says stuff like that, it’s like she’s reading out of a textbook. “My father told me stories about him—he was a great negotiator as well as a general. One of the greatest Jedi to ever live.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. Uh, Ben told me some things,” I said. I didn’t want to look stupid or ignorant.

“I would hope so, if he took you as his padawan.”

“Padawan?”

Read the rest on AO3!

[sleepy-vix]

books are the greatest thing to grace this planet

one of my goals for this year is to get through my whole bookshelf (I go in and out of time periods where I will read between 4-10 books/week so I buy more during that time period but then when I come out of it I end up with a really big tbr list. I’m guessing I’ve read about 4/5 of the books I own)

I have to read the entirety of two textbooks this weekend for a research project I’m doing

There is no real reason for this ask I just love books and love seeing all of your book posts

awww im so glad that someone appreciates my book posts bc although lots of my mutuals are bookish, i feel like thats only a small side of their personality and we're mutuals mainly to bond over fandoms 😭

also your goal is very admirable. i set myself a 50 book goal this year, but im secretely aiming for even higher. we'll see. i'm currently on 12/50 and i have 3 short stories that are about 30 pages each that i plan to finish in 2 or so days bc im in a reading mood rn.

definitely pls slide into my inbox whenever u wanna talk abt anything book-related bc i feel like i never talk abt books in this way (i do talk abt specific books with my moots, but never abt reading as a hobby iykwim) and ive been wishing to talk abt reading goals with someone

:))

[cherri-tomato]

Gentle hands

pairing: Bakugou x Kirishima

summary: Kirishima needs a haircut, and Bakugou just so happens to know how to cut hair

CW: brief mention of Bakugou having a trauma related panic attack but its not very descriptive

word count: 2,658

a/n: this is the first kiribaku fic ive written but i love them so much &lt;3

cross posted on AO3

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You really need a damn haircut, shitty hair.”

Bakugou says one day while the two study for an upcoming test, well, maybe study wasn't the right word, and not because Kirishima spent very little time looking at his paper and a lot of time looking at Bakugou, although that could explain why Bakugou had to “study” with him in the first place, no, study wouldn't be the right word because that would imply they were both assisting each other, this was more of a tutoring session, one with a very angry tutor and a very distracted student. 

Kirishima looks up from the textbook he was pretending to read with a pout, “what's wrong with my hair?” which was a silly question because Bakugou often told him how “shitty” his spiked up hair was, this felt different though, because Kirishima's hair was down today, shaggy red strands loose and straight, falling in his eyes and getting in his mouth. Okay, so maybe he did need a haircut, but his hair looked better when he styled it anyways and that required his hair to be long enough to style, normally, this wouldn't have been an issue, if he hadn't run out of the gel he uses, his hair would be up and spiky in all its “shitty” glory. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bakugou says, his voice isn't as aggressive as his harsh words would make you think, though, like everything Bakugou does, he has to sound and look as pissed off as possible, even when the situation doesn't require such a tone. Kirishima was used to this by now, Bakugou's harsh words were like water off a duck's back after being friends with the fiery blonde hero-to-be. 

Kirishima lifts a piece of his dyed hair up and looks up at it, which wasn't hard considering it was already long enough to be in his face, “Maybe it's a bit long…but it doesn't look that bad, does it?” he looks to Bakugou again, his red eyes wide and his lower lip pushed out in a pout seemingly without the red head's knowledge, Bakugou scoffs, averting his gaze back to the notes laid out in front of him. Kirishima often reminded him of a lost puppy, sitting on your doorstep and silently begging to come inside and eat all of your meat, he thought this to be  especially true when he pouts like that. 

“You can barely see dumbass.” which was true, despite the fact Kirishima had spent nearly the entire time looking at Bakugou, his view would frequently be obstructed by his own mass of hair stabbing him in the eyes. Bakugou, despite being focused on actually being productive, was seemingly even more distracted with Kirishima's hair than Kirishima himself, everytime the red haired boy would blow it out of his face, or jolt in surprise as the ends of his hair poked him in the eyes, Bakugou noticed, and he was sick of this distraction. 

What Bakugou would not admit too, is the fact he was distracted by Kirishima's hair for completely different reasons as well, and this was for one simple fact that pissed Bakugou off most of all,

 Kirishima Eijiro, looked fucking hot with his hair down.

And that was worse than the constant sound of Kirishima floundering to spit the hair out of his mouth, although that was pretty distracting as well. 

Kirishima whines, lying his head down on the table in front of him, his hair falling in front of his face, “I know.” He says, and Bakugou can tell from his voice that he's still pouting. Bakugou sighs in annoyance, standing up and heading towards his bathroom. Kirishima, still slumped over the table, turns his head to look at Bakugou, “what are you doing?” he asks as the blonde disappears behind the wall.

“I'm gonna cut your damn hair” He tells him, and Kirishima blinks in surprise. Standing, Kirishima walks to the door of Bakugou's tiny dorm bathroom, where Bakugou is rummaging through the small bag of toiletries he brings to and from UA whenever he leaves for the weekend. Kirishima watches him in confusion for a moment before Bakugou retrieves a small pair of scissors from the bag and grabs a towel from the shelf next to his sink. As Bakugou turns to the bathroom door and begins to leave, he grabs hold of Kirishima's upper arm and pulls him over to his desk, where he sits him down and places the towel over his neck and the back of Bakugou's desk chair. 

“Do you uh, know what you're doing?” Kirishima asks him, the thought of Bakugou, completely untrained in hair cutting, putting a sharp object so close to Kirishima was a worrying one. Bakugou scoffs, scowling as if this was a pain for him despite being the one who suggested it, “Of course dumbass, I cut my own.” 

Which surprised Kirishima, not just because the amount of patience and precision associated with cutting one's hair seemed to directly clash with Bakugou’s aggressive and explosive ( pun very much intended ) nature , but because it looked good, like really good. Kirishima must have shown his thoughts in his expression, that or Bakugou could read him like a book with no cover, because he scowls at Kirishima like he insulted him and if Kirishima was looking closely ( and he did whenever the angry blonde was involved) it almost looked like Bakugou was pouting.

Kirishima shakes his head, taking care not to shake off the towel with it, “sorry man! I'm just surprised since it looks so well done!” he exclaims, which seemed to be the wrong response because Bakugou glares at him “And what!? You don't think I can do something as simple as cutting some hair!?” Kirishima sighs, smiling fondly at his friend, “Sorry dude, it was supposed to be a compliment.” He says.

 Bakugou scoffs, bringing the scissors up to Kirishima's hair and using his free hand to adjust his head so he was looking straight ahead. “Whatever, just stay still or I'll cut it all off.” He threatens, and Kirishima suppresses a chuckle because there wasn't any weight to it, which was obvious from the calm, almost affectionate tone Bakugou had said it in. Bakugou's hands are gentle, running through Kirishima's hair and cutting the strands with practiced ease.

 “Why do you cut your own hair?” Kirishima asks, partially because he's genuinely curious but also because he needs something to distract himself from the feeling of Bakugou's calloused fingers brushing against his neck as he works. Bakugou doesnt answer for a long moment, he knows why, but explaining it would be a pain, because the reason Bakugou started cutting his own hair was because the feeling of someone touching his neck made him sick.

 It was shortly after the sludge villain incident that his mother told him he needed a haircut, he hadn't said much about what had happened and his parents didn't push, figuring he just needed time. So, not wanting to leave the house and force her grumpy son to a hair salon, Mitsuki Bakugou had decided she would just cut his hair like she had done when he was a little boy who refused to let a stranger touch his hair. Bakugou, who just wanted to appease his mother and return to his room, allowed her to sit him down and cut his hair, but, just as her gentle hand brushed his neck, Bakugou had a panic attack.

 after he ran off, his parents attempted to talk to him about it to little success, that night, Bakugou cut his own hair for the first time, he also cut his finger, despite this, he felt better when it was his own hand near his neck, so he practiced whenever he needed a haircut and never looked back. 

That would be a mouthful though and would most likely lead to a conversion about feelings and crap, so instead, Bakugou simply responds: “I don't like my neck being touched.” 

And that was enough for Kirishima, who may not know all that much about what had happened before UA, but did know what happened during when Bakugou was kidnapped by the league of villains, and that was all the context he needed to know Bakugou didn't want to discuss it further, so he drops the topic and begins to ramble on about something stupid Kaminari did, hoping this would take his friends mind off what was troubling him.

 Bakugou isn't really paying attention, but he appreciates the thought, although he'd never say that out loud. 

After a good 15 minutes of snipping away and 15 minutes of Kirishima talking about every little thing that came to mind, other than of course, the thoughts about how good Bakugou's rough hands feel against his skin, because that would be weird right? 

Bakugou's hand ,the one that isn't holding scissors, brushes the pieces of red hair off the towel and onto the floor, Kirishima opens his eyes and looks up at Bakugou “Are you done already?” He asks, trying not to sound disappointed. Bakugou shakes his head, moving to stand in front of Kirishima, standing between him and the desk.

“Only the back.” he says, reaching forward and gently pushing some of Kirishima's hair out of his face, Kirishima holds his breath as Bakugou's fingers brush his forehead. squeezing his eyes shut to avoid looking him in the eyes, Kirishima grips the armrest of Bakugou's desk chair “j-just don't cut too much off okay?” he says with an awkward chuckle and Bakugou hums in agreement as he lifts the scissors to once again begin cutting. 

Bakugou's eyes threaten to wander, to trace every line and detail of Kirishima's face, but since he is in fact holding a sharp object, and because said object is dangerously close to Kirishima, he forces himself to focus on cutting his hair and not on admiring his pretty face. 

His movements remain confident and precise, the front of Kirishima's hair isn't as layered and takes less time to cut, to Kirishima however, it takes even longer. 

As bakugou's slender fingers work diligently on his hair, Kirishima desperately tries to conceal just how much he enjoys their current closeness, which was much easier when his back was to the blonde and he couldn't see Kirishima's flustered expression. Bakugou places the scissors on his desk and uses his hands to ruffle Kirishima's hair, causing little bits of cut red hair to fall onto the towel Kirishima opens his eyes, laughing happily from the surprisingly affectionate gesture. 

Looking up at Bakugou, he notices the small smile on his lips, one that anyone who hadn't spent so many study sessions staring at him, would have thought was a smirk, but Kirishima had in fact spent so many study sessions, and classes, and walks to the dorm, and late nights in the kitchen together, and afternoons training, looking at him, so when Bakugou smiled, as rare a sight it may be, Kirishima could tell. 

Bakugou was hard to read, but Kirishima wasn't, atleast to Bakugou, who had also spent so many study sessions, and classes, and walks to the dorm, and late nights in the kitchen together, and afternoons training, looking at Kirishima.

 And maybe it was because they could both read each other so well that when Kirishima's eyes dart to Bakugou's lips, and Bakugou sucks in a sharp breath, they both know what the other wants.

Then, with only a slight moment of hesitation, they're kissing. Bakugou, with hands still in Kirishima's hair, pulls him closer, as close as one can possibly pull someone who's still seated without pulling them right out of the chair, And Kirishima, with eyes squeezed shut, wraps his arms around Bakugous waist, pulling him closer as well, as close as you can possibly pull someone whos standing while staying seated without pulling them right down on top of you. 

But it's pretty hard to kiss the person you're,most likely, in love with while both trying not to pull the other so close you fall over, and even though Kirishima, whos dizzy from the lack of air, thinks he probably wouldn't mind tumbling to the ground with Bakugou, the floor is still covered with snippets of his hair, and even though he's sure any kiss with Bakugou will be perfect, he doesnt think its something Bakugou would appreciate, so instead, Kirishima stands, the towel falling to the floor and the chair screeching as it moves back, but luckily doesn't fall, from the force of this movement. 

Bakugou lets out a soft gasp in surprise as his back gently bumps against his desk, and Kirishima, who is not standing a few inches above Bakugou, moves his hands from his waist to his face, cupping his cheeks in his hands and pushing himself impossibly closer to Bakugou, who’s arms wrap around Kirishima's neck. They stay like this, making out against Bakugou's desk, until their need for air becomes too apparent to ignore and they both pull away reluctantly, both boys gasping for the air they've denied their lungs of in favor of indulging in each other. 

Kirishima, giddy from the kiss (and lack of oxygen), laughs happily, his nose bumping Bakugou's cheek, which Kirishima has let go of to wrap his arms around Bakugou's middle once again. 

Bakugou, panting and flushed, presses a kiss to Kirishima's cheek, Kirishima pulls away just enough to look at him, still grinning and hair messy, presses kisses to Bakugou's face in quick succession before planting another sweet kiss to his lip, which are red from their previous kiss. 

This time, the kiss is soft and lacks the urgency the first one had, instead it was slow and loving, and Bakugou can't decide which he likes better, but he guesses, now that they had kissed, they could always do it again so he didn't have to choose.

 Kirishima pulls away slowly and, with eyes still closed, he rests his forehead against Bakugou’s “I like you so much Bakugou….” He says softly, his voice delicate, and Bakugou thinks it's kind of a silly thing to say because Kirishima is way to sentimental to kiss someone he didn't have feelings for, but he doesn't laugh, or point this out, because Kirishima is so sentimental and so vulnerable right now, Bakugou thinks it would be cruel. 

So instead he kisses Kirishima’s forehead and says, “Katsuki,You should call me Katsuki.” Kirishima opens his eyes, eyes which seem to sparkle when they meet Bakugou's “you know,” Bakugou Continues, “Now that we’re dating.” And Kirishima, whose bright eyes widen in surprise, smiles so sweetly, so lovingly, that Bakugou doesn't think he’ll ever grow tired of looking at.

Kirishima kisses him again, though he's still grinning, and Bakugou's smiling, so it's less of a kiss and more of an affectionate head bump of sorts, but they both think it's perfect, and Bakugou mutters a quiet “I like you too.” in between kisses, and then because of who they both are, and because Kirishima can never seem to keep his mouth shut around Bakugou, he says, 

“I think I swallowed a lot of hair, do you think the dye will make me sick?”

And even though Bakugou, who rarely smiled, and cursed like a sailor, and called Kirishima “shitty hair” more than his actual name, was pretty sure that was the least romantic thing he could have possibly said in that moment, he was even more sure he never wanted Kirishima to stop saying anything and everything that came into his brain, because Bakugou was probably in love and because Kirishima needed someone to answer every stupid question, even if he never paid attention to the answer because he was too distracted by Bakugou, and they both thought that they were happy for that fact, and of course for the fact that Kirishma Eijiro refused to cut his “shitty hair” for so long.

[nix-that-rad-lass]

Funny story

Two years ago I got a copy of Bancrofts “why does he do that” and started reading it. Like four chapters in I turned to my mom and was like “mom you need to read this, it’ll tell you all the stuff I’ve been saying about dad.”

She read the first few chapters. I gave her a highlighter. She was highlighting more than half of every page.

She turned to me:

“When you said (dads name) was a textbook abuser, I didn’t realize you meant TEXTBOOK!”

She put it in the drawer of the side table.

My brother visited home a week later. He went through all the drawers. He found it. He threw a fit, yelling at us, telling my dad about the book, saying I’m turning mom against dad and him and all men, that I’m filling her head with evil man hating feminist lies. He then insulted the book and the author, and then tried to ascribe it to a woman.

When I told him it was written by a man, with thousands of hours of experience, he threw another fit.

He put the book back in the drawer, and left the next day to go back to school.

We checked the drawer. And the cabinets. And under the couches.

The book had disappeared.

Two years go by.

This Christmas, my mom got me a new copy of it. I said thank you, so much.

My father turned to look at me and asked- only about this book, and none of the others- what it was called and what it was about.

I had to lie and say it was about how men’s minds work- which, granted, it sorta is.

But I knew he didn’t believe me.

And so I immediately took it to the basement and hid it.

This family feels like a cult. The men try to control our thoughts, access to media, who we befriend or spend time with. We are gaslit and made to believe we are crazy, insatiable, ungrateful. And yet we remain trapped, and the first semblance of hope ive had in a long time was getting a copy of the book that reminds me that I’m not insane.