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Romeo, (taking Juliet’s hand): If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss…

—Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare

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“𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬;

𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐠'𝐝, 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬’ 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬;

𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐞𝐱'𝐝, 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡'𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬’ 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬;

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞? 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭,

𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭.”

| 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨 & 𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞

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“Give me your hands, baby.”

You held out your hands to your partner, his thumbs stroking the knuckles. You were doing your best not to wince, trying to reassure him that your hands weren’t hurting that much. When San’s finger brushed against a fresh cut you got this morning, you couldn’t help but flinch. He looked up from your scratched hands, worry written all over his face.
San, I promise it’s common for a florist to have hands and forearms in this state.”
“No it’s not!”
he exclaimed, “weren’t you wearing any gloves?” You looked down, knowing that your boyfriend will scold you when you’ll answer. “I wanted to do it quickly so I didn’t put on my gloves.” Indeed, your boyfriend sighed, shaking his head as he stood up.

He came back from the bathroom with a tube of antiseptic cream in hand. He opened the lid and delicately put some on the cuts you got earlier in the day while arranging different bouquets of roses for a requested occasion. San started slowly rubbing the cream over your hands, gently scolding you while doing so. “Please take care of yourself Y/N, it’s important. It hurts and it’ll take a long time to heal. You have pretty hands, so take care of them.” You grimaced here and here when you felt the cream clean some cuts, but you sheepishly nodded at his strictness.
San never let go of your hands and started kissing them to reduce the pain. You fondly smiled at his gesture, him guiding your hands towards his face, making you cup his cheeks.

“Thank you, San.”
“You’re welcome, honey.” He answered, moving his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

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Nouvelle écrite par mes soins et que je vous conterai par petits morceaux.

La lecture des œuvres de Mme de Lafayette a été pour moi et pour beaucoup une sorte de supplice. Mais ce n’était pas tant le style d’écriture aux longue phrases alambiquées qui me dérangeaient. C’était les idées de l’auteure, les valeurs de son temps qui aujourd’hui sont désuètes, et ses histoires d’amour impossible à cause d’une soit-disant vertu.

Alors j’ai écrit ma propre histoire façon Mme de Lafayette.

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It feels like people always overhype romance.

“You think about them every second of every day.”

“You feel these butterflies in your stomach.”

“Your chest feels like it’s going to explode.”

It’s like, surely this must be overhyped? It can’t really be like all the Hallmark movies say, because life isn’t a paperback romance.

I think these conflicting opinions are part of what makes it so hard to question being aromantic or having alterous/Queerplatonic attraction. Like, is what I’m feeling actually romance without the media hype, or is it something else?

I don’t know, and no one gives me the same answer.

I try to describe it to one friend and I get told it’s romance, to another friend and it’s Queerplatonic. But apparently I’m the only one who can decide, but I just don’t know.

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Okay but what if Bakuhoe stalks his crushs private story she posts a cute selfie smiling while eating a burger and the caption says "I just love BK so much😭" and hes freakin out bc although the food is irrelevant she didnt seem like the type to confess like that by adding his initials so he messages her "u love me?" And shes all like "oh um I meant BK as in burger king" and it's all awkward so shes like "but ur cute too dw" idk what u want to do with this I just thought of this and need help 🤣

- - - -


It’s my favourite post now 💙💙💙💙🤣

Tysm for sharing it, I had so much fun writing it up!

- - - -

When school is over, Bakugou locks himself in his room before any of his squad members can ask him to hang out. Unfortunately for them, the blond had been in a foul mood the whole day, which meant that the amount of unnecessary yelling and insults had only increased today.

It was kind of bearable though, knowing the reason why.

Bakugou gets changed quickly, and plops down onto his bed with his phone. He unlocks it, before logging on to his “favourite” app.

There’s a reason why Bakugou doesn’t have too many people on Snapchat - it would make it much harder to find her private story in the sea of irrelevant ones. Right now, [Name] was the only one with new content, seeing as she hadn’t gone to school.

[Name] had been “ill” and therefore unable to attend classes that day. Well, that was what Mr Aizawa had told the class in the morning. [Name] being ill meant skipping classes to meet up with her father. Nobody blamed her though, as [Name] had a rather complex family situation. One which Mr Aizawa, nor any other teacher was permitted to talk about.

Bakugou looked at the content on [Name]’s private story - titled [Name]’s private - with a small smile on his face. They were mostly pictures of her dad, with captions like, “cutest dad ever”, or “remind me why I skipped school to be with him again?” He was honoured to be in [Name]’s private story, not that he’d ever admit the fact out loud.

There were so many pictures, it took about a minute to get to the last one. Unlike the majority, this picture was one of [Name]. She looked extremely pretty in this photo, since it was taken without her knowledge. She was in the middle of eating a burger. The caption read:

I love BK so much 😭

BK…Was she talking about him?! Bakugou’s mind began racing, and it was way too late to calm himself down now. Did she forget he was also on this private story, or was her confession deliberate? Bakugou didn’t care about the answer - instead, he focused on making his move. He swipes up on the picture, enabling his keyboard. With quick fingers, he types.


You love me?

The response comes almost immediately, which almost wrecks the lovesick boy’s nerves.


Oh, um i meant BK as in I love Burger King

Bakugou stares at the message for a long time. Stupid mistake? Check. Burger King, of fucking course. Suddenly, Bakugou is filled with a massive urge to destroy everything in his path, including his phone. Before he can start, his phone makes a notification sound.

A voice note from her.

“But you’re cute too Bakugou, so don’t worry!” He quickly makes the decision that maybe, there’s no need to destroy his phone and everything else in his room. When replying to [Name]’s message this time, he decides to type slow, in case he wants to back out at the last second.


R u still with ur dad?


Nope, I’m in my dorm room.


Come to mine.

Once he gets the okay from [Name], Bakugou gets out of bed. He tidies up a bit, though there’s hardly any mess, and calms his racing heart. He’s not sure what’s going to come out of this whole situation - [Name] didn’t make it very clear whether or not she actually returned his accidentally confessed feelings. There’s no time to create scenarios in his head though, a knock at his door snaps him out of his daze.

Bakugou opens the door, revealing a very cutely dressed [Name]. She’s still wearing the outfit which she wore to meet her dad - a plain white shirt, with black jeans (ripped at the knees) and a jumper wrapped around her waist. She had taken off her shoes, so left on her feet was a pair of matching socks.

“Hey.” It’s when she speaks up, that Bakugou realises that he’d been staring. He manages to force down a blush, but with what [Name] does next, it’s basically impossible.

She throws her arms around his neck, and pulls Bakugou down to meet her lips. She’s not particularly comfortable with kissing in the hallway, so she steps forward, forcing Bakugou to back into his room. [Name] shuts the door with her foot, giving them their much needed privacy.

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Siempre dicen… Tu corazón se romperá y va volver a armarse muchas veces pero nunca te dicen ese lapso que queda entre tu corazón roto y su arreglo. Nadie te explica el llanto, las ganas de desaparecer, el sentir que te quedas sin aire, sentir que nadie más te va a querer, sentirte horrible, inservible, perdida; Nadie explica lo que verdaderamente es un corazón roto y todo el proceso que lleva arreglarlo, eso es lo que nos hace caer, nos complican la vida queriendo romantizar el desamor y decepción. Fuck you ustedes.

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