#and sorry for the formatting being chaos was writing as i was thinking

[dragonmistressivy]

Anyone want to burn down my school for me? /hj. School is hell and is fucking killing me. It will be my death. All the strees every single teacher puts on me. All the strees my parents put on me to fo well and mad at me for never having any extracurriculars. All of the thoughts destroying me from the inside out. The world falling apart and I don’t have the skills personal money to escape this hellhole. I sm scared snd streesed out 24/7. No wonder my physical gealth is starting to fail. I don’t have the wnergy to take care of myself snd i hate it. I don’t have anything in the real world. It is all pointless to me. Also i hate all the jokes my parents have made about judt plugging me and my brother into the matrix because we are addicted to the internet(as tho it isn’t their fault) and because we have no lives(as tho that also isn’t their fault and our bio mom’s given we have both definitely gotten secersl of our mental issues from her). Parents once made a “joke” about taking us out back and just killing us because we don’t want to live in the real world. Totslly what you say to your heavily depressed kids who at least one of them is suicidal(me) and would absolutely adore that. My parents suck. Also I don’t feel safe at school. Yet another three people i know for certain i can’t trudt and are evil given they were talking about have gender affriming care should be illegal(surprised they used the correct term given what they were saying) i was just sitting there like wtf. I am scared. Also two of those three girls sit at the same table as me in marketing do yet another reason to hate and fear that class. I fucking hate that class. It causes me to completely freeze and break down because of the assignments revealing some of my weaknesses which no one can be allowed to know especially given how many people are openly evil and i am a easy target. I widh i could drop the class but i missed the absolute deadline(the fucking literal 3rd day of school. I didn’t wven know the syllabuses for any of my classes but one by then) to drop classes because i was sick. I am dying because of school. I also have no energy to actually do anything outside of school besides bed rot and hide in my room and sleep most of the day because of everything. Thanks parents for fucking emotionally neglecting me for do long that you didn’t notice that i had so many fucking issues that could have been prevented or treated like 5 or 6 or 7 or maybe 8 years ago. Suvh as putting me on anxiety meds since like first grade. I should have been on them since then because it was do bad then and has only gotten worse since. Or maybe antidepressants since like 7th or 8th grade because it was there then but didn’t get extremely bad until 9th grade and 10th grade where it completely nose dived into the ground and has been boring through the ground even farther down since. I am broken because of them ignoring me and my problems pr even making them worse. Like that one time in i think was it 2nd grade where carter(my brother) had been harassing snd bullying me since we woke up and the whole day until i finally snapped at him in the evening and completely blew up and threw several chess pieces at him and missed and hit the window and cabinet glass behind him and shattered them. I got my ass beat for that with a belt multiple times. And wasn’t allowed to go to the fair that night and got several of my plushies taken from me. Carter’s only punishment was not going to the fair for litwrslly bullying me all day. I learned to completely hide everything from my parents. Also the fact carter wouldn’t get in trouble for even like for example getting one of his close friends to kick a soccer ball straight at my head and breaking my nose.(just one of the many many many things Carter did. I just remember it so clearly unlike most of elementary) Carter didl got receive any punishment. And you know whst my parents epuld tell me every time when he would bully me? They would tell me to just ignore him because he will stop if i do that.

I don’t know if they never deslth with bullies or not but that is notvhow you get a bully to stop. That only makes them worse because they will instead of doing badic stuff to get you to completely explode the will do more and more extreme stuff until you do. Also no wonder i have anger issues and barely don’t explode at anyone for the slightest thing. I was suffering from several mental issues snd was constantly without stop made fun of and harassed and the people who i was supposed to protect me did nothing and actually made it worse. Some things carter would do all the time are make fun of my speech impediment, the way i walk, the way i move my arms, the way my face looks, everything about the way i look, call me things like fag or tranny and all the slurs under the sun he knew even if they made no since like calling me the n word(i am the palest you can probably get do it made no sense), sexually harassing me, and raping me a few times as kids, and so much fucking more. I need him to have a fate worse than death Maybe lock in sydrome without the ability to close his eyes andhave everyone think he is in a coma, or maybe to get tons of brain damage that omly affects his physical ability to fo stuff do he finally fucking know what it is like to be fucking disabled. I fucking hate his guys and want him to feel pain for everything he has done to not just me but all his gfs and his current bf. He is a monster. I hope he gets his karma soon.

I hate how i can’t trust anyone especially authority figures for already mentioned reasons and many other ones such as for example my 2nd grade teacher would pretend i didn’t exist when i was literally talking to her or her not stopping bullies when i was being bullied right in front of her, or my third and fourth grade typing class teachers for getting so fucking mad at me for not using both hands to type(as tho i could because i can’t use my right hand or things like that) and literally coming over and forcibly correcting me, the fact that the best of my teachers in elementary(being my 5th grade teacher) was still very weird and purposely made me stick out from all my other students by literally changing her whole curriculum that year just because of me or like when we read “wonder” as a class she would basically say hiw i am simplar to august(the protagonist of that book) who is in fact disabled but in such s fucking different way that it just make me feel worse and internalize self hate about how i am not disabled enough to be treated as equals to everyone but too disabled to be like everyone else. So many people basically treated me like a baby that year i hated it. Another example from that year was when we read “fresk the mighty”(good book) why did she have to constantly point out how i was disabled. Also one more thing she did was on my birthday she literally have a massive party about august from “wonder” I don’t even share a birthday with him do it was so fucking creepy and i was do called out. There is so much more from judt my fifth grade class but at least wasn’t bullied that year tho was mostly ignored and isolated from my peers but at least no bullying like 2nd, third, and fourth grade there was do much that happened in those three years. Also i hate how much of 6th grade i missed because i had surgery on my right foot to find a lot of issues caused by it. Unfortunately the surgical site didn’t heal and almost got infected and that caused recovery from taking a like 2 maybe 3 months at most to around 6 or 7 months and only went back from like the last 3 months with taking a lot of time off because of recovery. That isolated me a lot more from everyone. Then i had seventh grade where nothing really happened besides isolated more. Then there was 8th grade where the pandemic started that march so was completely shut off from the world without being able to talk to literally anyone and was so alone and my grades started to slip and depression started to nose dive. But 9th grade was worse for do many reasons including me getting covid(still can’t taste or smell that well but the taste is slowly coming back now) and everyobe having changed including the few friends i had either them literally becoming fucking evil like one called me for having cp(not cerebral paldy) whwn i explained i had cerebral palsy and he knew i didn’t have the other thing but wanted to get me in trouble all because i was different and not like him. He was like the nicest person in 8th grade so who knows what happened but he became insanely ablest and sexist. Also i then hung out with a group of misfits(with two of them being trans and one being bi but somehow didn’t realize i was trans yet) but lose contact with all three of them over the summer. Then in 10th grade i made a friend. He was the nicest person to me ever and i also got a phone that year so i got his number and actually talked yo him outside school. He was so nice to me. But for some reason as soon as school ended he completely abandoned me and definitely blocked my number. No idea why. There was no reason why he completely abandoned me. Probably one of his other friends told him to. I mean he was friends with one of carter’s exes(she luckily broke up with carter after like 2 or 3 weeks once she realized how evil carter is). Also realized i was trans that year and he was the first person i came out to(wasn’t the reason he abandoned me given that was months and months before he did)

Then last year was completely alone and had nothing but at least could listen to music almost day and ignore the world as best i could. I have finally broken completely and have no way to ignore it like can’t even listen to music at school even during individual working time. I am so done

I am just so exhausted and done with life but unfortunately can’t kill myself to end it

[writeroutoftime]

hi! could you write carmy berzatto x fem!reader where she’s in her early 20s (not too crazy age gap) and reader is sud’s friend and he just has a crush on her ???? like i just want lovesick carmen so badly 😭

pls and thank u

a/n: sure thing, one lovesick carmy coming right up! (honestly, I was never sure how old carmy was supposed to be. but in my mind he was always somewhere around like 26-28??) also, sorry I hope you don't mind this ended up being in bullet point format, it was just easiest for me to write it that way - though I hope you enjoy!!

oOoOo

“Yo, who’s the new girl?” Richie called out as he watched you walk in behind Syd, pulling everyone's attention towards you.

"This is y/n." Sydney introduced. "She's been my friend for years, and she's offered to help us the restaurant. For free, might I add. So be nice." she finished, staring directly at Richie who simply raised his hands in surrender as a response.

You quietly giggled at the interaction, catching Carmen's attention as he stood in the back, waiting to come forward and introduce himself. He felt frozen in place, watching your smile, the way your eyes scanned the under-construction building with wonder, and the way you were ready to jump in and help.

It had been quite a while since Carmen felt his heart skip the way it did when he looked at you, and he clammed up, ready to turn back and introduce himself later. After he had hours to agonize over what he would say to you.

Unfortunately, fate - or Sydney- had other plans as his business partner steered you into Carmen's path. "And this is the man responsible for all of this chaos." Sydney teased.

"It's nice to meet you, Chef." you smiled gently, reaching out your hand in greeting.

"Oh, no, uh, I mean Carmen." he stuttered out, mentally slapping himself. "What I meant was you don't have to call me Chef, you can just call me Carmen, or Carmy. Really whatever you prefer." he rambled, trying to ignore the way you hand fit so perfectly in his.

"Got it, Chef Carmen Carmy." you giggled, enjoying the slight blush that dusted his cheeks.

And in that moment, Carmy knew he was a goner.

Though you weren't at The Bear every day, Carmy would constantly look towards the door when you weren't there, hoping that each jingle of the bell meant that it was you gracing him with your presence.

The days that you were there, though? Carmy found himself an absolute mess in your presence. Stuttering and stumbling all his words and laughing louder than necessary at any joke you cracked.

But Carmy could also be a little smoother when it came to interacting with you. He quickly learned your coffee (or tea) order and always tried to have it waiting for you when it stopped to get himself one.

But, of course, Carmy tries to get to know you most through food.

"Would you mind trying this dish? Thinking about putting it on the menu." Carmy would ask anytime he made something new for the Bear, you being only the second person to try it (behind Syd).

Carmy would also learn your favorite foods and offer to make it if you had been at The Bear too long and Carmen knew you hadn't eaten.

"Oh, you didn't need to do that, Carmy."

"Really it's no problem, it's the least I can do in exchange for all your help." he'd say, bashfully running a hand through his hair.

Richie, noticing the exchange would call out, "Hey, Cousin, can I get some of that too?" only to get Carmy's middle finger as a response.

Of course, none of this was one-sided and you regularly flirted back with Carmen while helping out. It was just he took it as you being too nice, not believing he had a shot with you - much to your disappointment and everyone else at The Bear.

"Cousin, you gonna ask her out or what?" Richie would finally ask one evening when it was just the two of them left at the restaurant.

"What are you talking about?" Carmen would ask, eyes furrowed, heart beating just a bit faster.

Richie's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "W-what am I talking about? You've been pining over y/n for months, and she's been throwing you all sorts of signals back.

"S-she has?" Carmy asked, voice quiet, though slowly growing excited.

"Yes!" Richie would shout, before walking away, mumbling a "you're hopeless" under his breath.

The next time Carmy saw you, he had made up his mind he was going to ask you out. Even if it just meant the two of you spending some time at the restaurant without everyone else.

He walked up to you talking to Sydney and asked if he could talk to you in the kitchen, alone.

"So, um, I probably should have asked you this weeks ago, but uh, do you maybe want to, I don't know, go out with me?" he rushed out, biting his lip, trying not to run away in fear.

There was a moment of silence before you beamed up at Carmy, nodding your head excitedly. "It's about time, Chef Carmen Carmy." you teased, kissing his cheek before heading back out to Syd, leaving Carmen a smiling, blushing mess.

[islandofsages]

Hey ! Can I ask for a male!reader that is a 4th or 3rd year at the NRC (in the dorm you want), and Yuu, Grim and Ortho after seeing him just decided to adopt him like their father ?

The reader is the definition of a good father, and Yuu, Grim and Ortho made him sign the adoption contract (give by Azul).

(Maybe the reader can be the boyfriend of Idia ?)

I just want a reverse adoption with Grim, Yuu and Ortho bc they need a good father.

characters: ortho, yuu and grim with fourth year male reader

tags: platonic, fluff, fic format

warnings: none

author's notes: sorry i didnt do the characters separately, i think they would have similar reactions. also reader isnt with idia bc im keeping this blog fairly romance-free :) thank you for giving me an excuse to write fourth year reader tho, the concept is so interesting and fun to explore!! and hes not in any specific dorm, wanted to keep it ambiguous hehe. honestly this whole thing was my own spin so word count: 974 words

You haven't gone back to NRC in a while. Despite the absolute chaos that goes on way more than often in that school, you’ve grown to harbor fondness for that familiarity. Luckily, you're due for a report of the progress of your internship. Instead of merely sending an email to your professor, you’ll go meet up with him yourself and check up on your underclassmen (maybe even get to know the freshmen) in the meantime.

You are just one of the many seniors of NRC but you found that your dorm members are quite fond of you for whatever reason. So when you come back for that short time period, a few of them come to greet you and catch up with you. Apparently, the abandoned dorm is now occupied by not one but two new students. You didn't even know there was an abandoned dorm!

“One of them can't even use magic and came from a different universe or something? And one of them is literally a magical monster! The school totally got weirder when you left, (Y/N),” one of your dorm members explains. You try to imagine it in your head. Yeah, no, if nobody told you that’s exactly what happened, you wouldn’t have known. You only believe the dorm member because you trust them enough.

“Oh, and remember Idia? The one with the robot brother? He’s a housewarden now. And his brother's a student now. He's an actual freshman,” more gossip makes their way to you. Your eyes widen at the news. You feel like you may remember them, the Shroud brothers - you could tell Idia was trying really hard to stay on the down low so you did him a favor and left him alone for the most part.

You don’t stay at your dorm for very long - you did come to NRC for a reason - and that was to send in that report of yours. Though you already dropped it off before checking up on your underclassmen, you plan just walking around school and taking in the sights that were once so familiar to you. And you haven’t even really graduated yet.

You walk down the hallways and say hi to whoever you recognize, basking in that comfortable familiarity. Some friendlier students stop to chat with you and to be perfectly honest, you feel a little old compared to everyone. You don’t mind but what’s rubbing it in is how some of the students are calling you “Dad” to tease you. You know they’re being playful for the most part but you can’t help but feel a little awkward with the nickname.

Then you run into those three.

You recognize the younger Shroud brother - hard not to with his flames for hair - but you can only guess the other two are the new students occupying that abandoned dorm; one’s uniform seems foreign and the other is not even remotely humanoid. They're definitely eye-catching, especially together. And apparently, you're pretty eye-catching too, with the way they lay their eyes on you while you were talking to another student.

The younger Shroud brother leads the group as they make their way to you excitedly. You're already preparing yourself for what you assume is a normal conversation with these kids. Too bad normal is the wrong thing to expect from these three, you will come to know.

“(Y/N)! You’re back at school!” The younger Shroud - Ortho, that’s his name - exclaims as he flies slightly upwards, happy to see you again. The other two look at you curiously, head tilted to the side and all. You offer them a jolly laugh as you tell the other two who you are and update all of them of how your internship is going. They’re eerily silent when you’re relaying your story but you appreciate not being interrupted. ‘What polite freshmen,’ you thought.

Until they aren’t, because they interrupt you with-

“Can you adopt us?!”

Their eyes twinkle as they clasp their hands together and gaze at you with their best puppy-eye look. Oh, they’re being genuine. This is escalating way too quickly - the nickname was weird enough, you’re not sure what to feel about a bunch of age-ambiguous freshmen wanting a fellow (though presumably older) student to adopt them. You sigh and put on your best smile so as to not disappoint them.

Truth be told, it really isn’t as bad or weird as it sounds. People were already teasing you about it so might as well run along with it. But still. Legally adopting these freshmen would still be too much for you to handle. After all, you’re still going to be preoccupied with your internship. You won’t be present for most of their school years and the last thing you want to be is a father who forgot to bring the milk back home.

You tell them you will think about it, in case they were actually joking and you’re somehow dumb enough to not catch on. They agree to allow you to take your time… but then they start muttering about “getting a contract from Azul” and you immediately step in to stop them from taking any drastic measures.

After that whole ordeal, you leave school more exhausted than you thought you would be. After all, three freshmen literally asked you to become their father and adopt them and were about to get you to agree to some contract.  But then, you find out, they turn out to be the best children you’ve ever had. 

They can be a handful, sure - Ortho is way too curious for his own good sometimes, Grim can’t sit still and picks fights with people often, and Yuu is… Yuu. Being a single father is definitely not the easiest thing to do with them as your children.

Yet you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[goingmerryfics]

HELLO, I was seeing that you were open to requests and I've had this in my head for a long time and I would really like to see something about this, a reader who has a huge scar on his face that is literally ugly, they got it as a child, apart from the fact that it shows part of the teeth of how serious it was and for this reason the reader wears a mask for fear of being told things about them face, I'm sorry if it's something explicit just that sometimes I feel like I don't explain myself

Reader with a scar - Luffy & Penguin

Content: reader is referred to as a ‘guy’ and a ‘dude’, reader wears a face mask, can be read as platonic, face scarring due to a past accident not specified, fluff and reassurance, a few mentions of Shachi in Penguin's part.

Notes* Hey there! There wasn't a character specified for this ask, so I chose two that I'm less experienced with to write out this prompt with :) male reader because of the pronouns used in the ask! I got really interested in this prompt right away and wrote it immediately upon receiving the ask and absolutely had to post it now so I apologize if the formatting is wonky! I'm on mobile haha

Luffy

When you first met Strawhat Luffy, it was while he was stopped at your home island along his grand adventure

You'd never really paid much attention to pirates and their lives- you had your own to live and figure out anyway

But as you and Luffy became closer- first as acquaintances, then as temporary allies, and then as friends as he boldly declared it in a short amount of time, you started to really like the guy

He'd only asked you about the mask you wore once. But the second you tried to answer him, he was distracted by dinner. After that, it was if he'd forgotten all about his question

It was kind of nice that way, not needing to worry about constant pestering or comments about it

Luffy truly didn't give a shit what you wore on your face at all. He cared about you (and your food, of course)

Luffy had a way of making you feel as if you could trust him to see your face. What you've kept hidden for most of your life, after a terrible accident had, in your opinion, ruined your life

But Luffy's care for you was unlike anything you've ever felt before. Luffy made you feel safe, protected, and just a little anxious at how willing he was to throw himself in harm's way to help you, the appointed new friend

One evening, you decide that you do in fact want to talk to him about your past. It's a decision you've been thinking over for a while, but actually getting up and moving to Luffy's room is such a sudden action, and then you're suddenly seeking him out in the dead of night on his ship to tell him about your scar.

The Thousand Sunny was still docked peacefully at the edge of the south side of your island, where you had originally met them what felt like so long ago. In reality, it had only been about a week since the Strawhats arrived, and yet it felt like so much longer in the chaos.

Their gangplank was pulled up, but before you could start trying to climb the ship's side, you spot Luffy out on the deck- evident by the straw hat on his head.

You call out his name, and he turns right away. With a grin quickly spreading on his face, he hops off the sunny and onto the grassy island floor. He calls your name happily.

“What are you doing over here? Is something wrong?” He asks.

You tell him it's not that, and he picks up on your unease.

“Well, what is it? It's hard to tell but you look like something's bothering you. Are you hungry?”

You shake your head, and you begin to explain. You tell him about your accident, about how your face was scarred and disfigured. You tell him about your upbringing, how hard it was to fit in with the other kids while you looked like that.

You can feel yourself getting emotional. Luffy can hear it in your voice, too. He calls your name in a stern tone- one he only seems to use when he gets serious.

“Listen, I don't care about all that crap.” He speaks. And though his words are blunt, you know he means them in the best way.

“I like you. You're a really nice guy, and you fight really well. So what else matters? You think I care if you've got a scar on your face?”

He stares at you, and you feel it in the center of your chest.

“You should feel free to do whatever you want! If you want to wear your mask then that's fine. But if you don't, then take it off! And if people don't like it, that's their problem! If they don't want to get to know you because of what your face looks like, then they're the ones that are missing out!”

You can feel tears in your eyes. There's something about the way Luffy says- no, declares it so passionately that leaves no doubt in your mind of his pure fondness for you.

Through your tears, you can see Luffy's smile, and your heart soars.

Penguin

You'd been a Heart Pirate for a short amount of time, but somehow you had made quick friends with many people on the Polar Tang- one of them being the man who called himself, ‘Penguin’ with the hat to prove it

There was something about him that was so easy to click with. Maybe it was your shared sense of humor, or the fact that you found it hilarious watching him and his partner in crime Shachi get into trouble for pulling pranks around your Captain (for the millionth time)

You weren't the only person on the crew who wore a full face mask, either. So while he was curious and questioned it in the beginning, one word from you to leave it alone and he backed off. Surprisingly.

Still, you definitely caught him eyeing you at times. The urge to pull the mask off your face to see what you were hiding was strong in him, but you two were friends and he wouldn't do that to you

One evening, Shachi had been pressing you just a little too much about the matter and he'd said, “What, are you ugly or something under there?”

Which earned a swift smack to the back of his head from Penguin, chastising him for saying something that insensitive

He'd noticed the way your teeth clenched, how tense you got. It had obviously hit home, and he made Shachi apologize for his rude joke right then and there

After that though, he found himself wondering why. Why did you think you were ugly? What were you hiding? Did you actually have a reason to be insecure, or was it something more?

He cared about you. He didn't want you to feel like you couldn't be yourself around them- the Heart Pirates were your family now, and a proper family didn't hurt each other for something so miniscule.

You had gotten over the comment, but Penguin had already begun his mission.

It was late into the evening. The chores were done for the day, and Penguin wanted to catch you before you went to bed. He wasn't really sure what he was gonna do or say, but he knew he wanted to address it before the worry drove him to insomnia.

He searches the halls for you and eventually finds you in the common room. He calls your name cheerfully, thankful that you're alone here- at least for the time being.

You greet Penguin, looking up from what you'd been doing. He takes a seat nearby and starts to make idle chatter, asking you about your day, telling you a bit of gossip, smiling when he gets you to laugh.

Then he clears his throat and switches gears, moving on to the conversation he really came here for.

“So, uh… There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You watch him fidget for a minute. He's not good with feelings at all, and he's trying to figure out how to bring this up without accidentally offending you. Eventually, he finds the words.

“So… About what Shachi said a while back. I was kinda worried about it.”

You quickly assure him that it was fine, that Shachi apologized and he only meant it as an, albeit bad, joke.

“Yeah, but… I don't know. It looked like it really bothered you. I hope you don't think that, like, we would think you're ugly or something! Whatever you look like under there, you're still the same cool dude we know. Nothing would change that. I guess I just wanted to say that.” Penguin shrugs.

You're not sure what to say to that. Your initial reaction is bitter- to insist that actually they would think you're ugly if they could see your face. But something stops you, and you get stuck just choking on your words.

“Look, I'm just saying, it bothers me to think that you don't like the way you look. I'm not saying you have to show me your face or anything, but just… If you choose to take your mask off one day, I hope you know that we'd love you all the same. You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like.”

You nod, because it's all you can bring yourself to do in the moment. It's nice, hearing that reassurance.

Penguin quickly changes the subject to try and dissipate the tension in the room made by the serious conversation, going on about something stupid Shachi had done that got him into some shit with the Captain earlier, which makes you laugh.

His words stick to your heart -You'll always be our family, no matter what you look like- and you know that when you do decide to show yourself to them, that you'll be alright.

[nanamis-baker]

The Bold Stroke

Chapter 2 | Whisper of the Petals

Pairing: philosophy student Geto x art student f!reader (College AU)

Summary: A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology… but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.

Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together.

Content: Fluff | slow burn | Light angst (I am not sure) | Mention of scars and accident | Mention of family issues | Reader falling for Geto | Geto being a gentleman but also a big big idiot.

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 10.2k

a/n: okayy it's here!! This chapter took me a while to write because writing conflicting emotions is something new for me lol.

But a big big bigg thank you to my girl @whereflowerswenttodie for reading and rereading it and helping me out with it!! 💙

← Prev. Chapter | Series mlist | Next Chapter →

“So, are you meeting up with someone?” you asked Inumaki as you fixed your hair a little, the elevator mirror being perfect for it. The two of you were going to the library. Well, you were going to the library, and Inumaki had some work on the same floor, so he accompanied you.

Inumaki nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as the lift opened with a ding. The two of you went separate ways, waving each other goodbye as you went into the library. But as soon as you entered, your legs halted. What you saw was… unexpected, to say at least.

The library had transformed into a bustling marketplace of stressed students. Every table, including yours and Suguru's usual spot, was now occupied by unfamiliar faces. The studious quiet you'd craved was replaced by murmured arguments, frantic typing, and the occasional frustrated groan. This wasn't exactly how you'd envisioned making the presentation format with Suguru.

You had texted him earlier about the presentation format, but there was no way you could get any work done in this chaos. What could you do now? And what other option did you have? You could go to the cafe but-

Just then, a warm hand settled gently on your shoulder. You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat, only to find Suguru standing there, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he chuckled, his voice soothing amidst the library's chaos. You shook your head, the disappointment momentarily forgotten.

"No worries," you managed, forcing a smile. "But seriously, what do we do now?" You gestured towards the library, the silent question hanging heavy in the air.

Suguru's smile faltered, replaced by a knowing frown that mirrored your frustration. "I kind of expected this," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Apparently, a bunch of students submitted the same assignment, thinking they could fool their teacher."

A flicker of surprise shot through you. "The same assignment? How did you…"

"Long story," Suguru interrupted with a wry smile. "Let's just say the rumour mill at this school is efficient." He paused, his gaze flickering around the library before landing back on you. "The good news is, I might have a backup plan."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in your eyes. "A backup plan, huh?" The unexpected turn of events had certainly piqued your interest.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes. "It is a Top secret," he declared, smiling to himself. "But trust me, it's worth it." He reached for your bag, gently relieving you of the weight. "Just promise me you won't breathe a word of it to anyone."

"Can't guarantee anything until I know where we're going," you teased, the disappointment at the ruined library session fading with each passing moment.

Suguru grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. He reached out and gently grasped your arm, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. Suddenly, the crowded library seemed miles away as Suguru led you on a detour.

The corridors twisted and turned, a confusing maze that would make recalling the route later impossible. You found yourself relying on Suguru's confident strides, a comfortable silence settling between you broken only by the rhythmic click of your shoes against the polished floor.

Finally, you arrived at a seemingly nondescript wall, the only hint of something unusual was a small, silver panel nestled discreetly within the plaster. Suguru pressed a button, and with a soft whirring sound, the elevator door slid open.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You had no idea this elevator even existed!

Suguru stepped inside, beckoning you to follow. It was a maintenance elevator, you realised. The cramped space barely accommodated the two of you comfortably, and the close proximity did little to deter you. He punched in a series of numbers on the keypad, and with a slight jerk, the elevator began its ascent.

"This elevator," you began, looking up at him, unable to contain your curiosity any longer. "How did you find it?"

Suguru chuckled, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he looked down to meet your eyes. "Let's just say Satoru and I stumbled upon it during an… 'unforeseen circumstance'?" He rubbed the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks at the memory. "Someone was rather displeased with us - him, actually - at the time. Finding this secret elevator was a happy accident." His gaze lingered on the keypad, “And figuring out the pin wasn’t difficult, especially when Satoru is with you,” He finished, smiling fondly at the memory. You found yourself smiling too.

The elevator came to a halt, the familiar ding echoing in your ear. With a sense of anticipation, you watched as the doors slid open, revealing a sight that took your breath away. No longer confined by the walls of the library, you found yourself standing on a rooftop terrace bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.

The sky stretched out before you like a canvas splashed with luminous hues of apricot and peach, with a hint of purple, the sun beginning its descent towards the horizon. Below, the sprawling campus unfolded like a miniature world, with buildings and pathways etched in the golden light. A gentle breeze ruffled your hair and caressed your skin, carrying with it the scent of drying leaves, with a hint of muskiness.

For a moment, you were speechless, captivated by the unexpected beauty that lay before you. Turning to Suguru, you found a wide grin plastered across your face.

"So this is what you meant by 'Top Secret'?" you exclaimed, your voice brimming with excitement.

Suguru chuckled, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding confirmation. "This place is a bit of a hidden gem."

His gaze swept over your face, searching for your reaction. "Do you like it?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Like it, Geto?" you repeated, the question almost comical. "I absolutely love it!"

This secret terrace, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, felt worlds away from the unexpected chaos of the library. It was a private sanctuary, a place just for the two of you.

A satisfied smile spread across Suguru's face. "Good to know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He gestured towards a nearby bench, its weathered wood and faded brown paint promising a comfortable perch. "We should have plenty of light for some time now - enough to complete that presentation, at least."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, you readily took a seat on the bench. Suguru settled himself beside you, the air crackling with newfound energy. "Perfect!" you declared, clapping your hands together. "Then let's get started."

The sun, it seemed, had a favourite today. You sat beside Geto, bathed in the warm glow of the late afternoon light, as it casted a golden halo around you. He found himself mesmerised, his gaze drawn to the way the light danced on your skin, turning it a canvas of shimmering bronze. Each flicker in your eyes held a spark more captivating than any gemstone, a tiny fire that seemed to ignite a warmth deep within him.

A golden aura surrounded you, and in Geto's eyes, you became the most exquisite treasure the world had to offer.

He struggled to focus. Every few moments, his gaze would snag on the way the sunlight danced in your eyes, igniting a flicker that stole his attention. Geto found himself mumbling a request for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly, you didn't seem annoyed, simply repeating your point with a gentle smile.

You intrigued him – a captivating puzzle he couldn't seem to solve. Your thoughts, a fascinating mix of unexpected angles and surprising echoes of his own, kept him constantly engaged. During discussions, you'd throw out a witty remark that had him stifling a laugh, a sharp observation that made him see the topic from a whole new perspective. He'd marvel at the way your mind effortlessly weaved humour and insightful analysis, a combination that felt refreshingly unique.

There was a depth to your intelligence that went beyond mere academic prowess. You possessed a genuine curiosity about the world, a thirst for knowledge that mirrored his own. He found himself drawn to your passion, the way your eyes would light up as you delved into a subject that truly interested you. It was as if you held a mirror to his soul, reflecting things he hadn't even realised were there.

The more he interacted with you, the more he realised how much he craved your presence. It wasn't just the conversations; there was a spark between you, an undeniable chemistry that left him both exhilarated and strangely vulnerable. He found himself wanting to impress you, to share his thoughts and ideas in the hopes of eliciting another one of those dazzling smiles.

"Okay!" you said, a triumphant smile lighting your face. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm glow on the terrace, painting the cityscape in hues of lavender and gold. "We are done now," you declared, gathering your things. You turned to him, and your smile was even brighter, “Suguru, I can’t thank you enough for your help with this - I couldn’t have done this without you” Gratitude and sincerity shone brightly in your eyes, but that wasn't what held his attention.

Suguru. You had called him by his first name. It was a simple gesture - you probably didn't even realise it - yet it resonated within him like a physical touch. The sound echoed in the twilight, a melody far sweeter than the chirping crickets. He craved to hear it more and more.

"You don't have to thank me again and again, you know?" he managed, his voice a touch rougher than usual. He cleared his throat, hoping to dispel the unexpected feelings that bloomed within him. "I enjoyed working on this project too," he added, hoping to convey his sincerity. It was true – it had all been stimulating for him. But a deeper truth lurked beneath. He enjoyed simply being near you - in your presence.

A pang of sadness, sharp and sudden, twisted in his gut. Here he was, enjoying the afterglow of a shared experience, yet a looming shadow threatened to engulf it. The project, the reason you were here with him, was done. When would be the next time the two of you see each other? Would you, like the last rays of the sun dipping below the horizon, simply slip away too?

The weight of his unspoken thoughts pressed down on Suguru as you walked towards the elevator. The last embers of the sun had faded, leaving the sky a canvas of deepening indigo. As he reached to press the button, blinding darkness swallowed the world whole, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

"What happened...?" He heard you murmur, a whisper lost in the sudden quiet. Suguru turned towards your voice, his eyes straining to adjust to the absence of light. He found you, a faint silhouette framed by the faint glow of the rising moon.

Concern flickered across him. He couldn't see you clearly, but he didn’t miss the slight tremor in your voice. He gently grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours, hoping to calm you.

Needing to confirm his suspicions, he took a tentative step towards the railing and peered over. Darkness. Not just the terrace, but the entire university grounds were shrouded in an inky blackness. The distant hum of activity that usually filled the evening air had been replaced by an unsettling silence.

"There seems to be a power cut in the area," he replied gently, his voice sounding hollow in the darkness. "But don't worry, we should have power back soon." He said, but for some reason, he had a hard time believing his own words.

"Can we use the stairs or something?" you asked, the slight tremor he had heard in your voice earlier was still there.

"Unfortunately, no," he sighed. "Satoru and I found it earlier, but they are blocked - inaccessible."

You didn't say anything, but Suguru heard a small, defeated 'Oh' escape your lips.

"But don’t worry, we can go and sit on the bench?" he offered, trying to shake away your worries. He could see the outline of the bench as his eyes had started to adjust to the darkness.

"Yeah, let's go," you agreed. As he guided you towards the familiar wooden seat, he felt your hand tighten around his, drawing his attention towards you.

Suddenly, you stopped, your voice tinged with awe. "Suguru, look up!"

He followed your gaze, tilting his head back. And then he saw it. The unexpected darkness had stripped away the veil of artificial light, revealing a breathtaking spectacle he hadn't even realised he'd been missing. A vast expanse of midnight blue stretched above them, a canvas sprinkled with a million shimmering diamonds. The stars. So many stars, each one a tiny beacon in the infinite darkness.

The darkness, once unsettling, now felt strangely beautiful. He stole a glance at you, your face bathed in the ethereal glow of the starlight, a look of wonder mirrored in your eyes. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing.

Not at all.

An unexpected idea sparked in Geto's mind. He gently released his hold on your hand and reached for his jacket. He knelt, spreading the garment on the cool ground, making sure it was properly spread out.

"Here," he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. He could see you better now, bathed in the faint moonlight, and a flicker of curiosity played across your features.

"What are you doing?" you asked, And Geto could hear the amusement in your voice.

"Come on," he said, extending out his hand, offering it to you in the dimness. "This way we can see the stars better, without straining your neck."

Understanding dawned on you, and a delighted smile spread on your lips, mirroring his own. Taking his hand, you allowed him to gently guide you down onto the makeshift blanket his jacket provided. A warmth spread through him as the two of you settled on the jacket, laying down side by side. Geto could feel the heat radiate from your body against his arm.

A comfortable silence descended, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a cricket, a sound that seemed louder than usual in the quiet. Geto kept his hand intertwined with yours, the warmth of your skin a surprising comfort against his. His thumb, as if possessed by a will of its own, began tracing lazy circles on your palm.

Stealing glances at your face, bathed in the ethereal glow of the moon, Geto searched for any sign of unease, a flicker of disapproval that might suggest he had crossed a line. Thankfully, he found none.

"Suguru?" He heard you say, your voice, soft as the night breeze. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze in the dim moonlight.

"You know," you began, a playful glint dancing in your eyes, "you never really told me why you were nose-deep in all those business books in the library that day."

A surprised chuckle escaped Geto's lips, despite the topic you were referring to. "Yeah? And you never told me why you chose to drown yourself in the world of arts," he countered, his voice betraying a hint of the unease he felt.

You let out a laugh, the gentle sound echoing in the dark. "Well, you never really asked!"

"But I am asking now," he countered, amusement dancing in his voice.

"Okay, okay," you said with a grin. "Fair enough. First, you answer my question, and then I'll answer yours. Deal?"

Geto hesitated for a beat, the darkness both a shield and a prompt. So Geto had to offer a part of himself to get to know you better - sounds interesting "Deal," he finally agreed.

You looked up at him expectantly and taking a deep breath, he decided to be honest. "The thing is," he began, trying to hide the disgust he felt about this topic, "those business books weren't exactly what I wanted to be reading. You see, my family owns a pharmaceutical company, one of the biggest in the country."

"Oh wow," you said, a hint of surprise in your voice, “I didn’t know that.”

"Yeah," he said, a humourless scoff escaping his lips. "They expect me to join the business after graduation. Here's the real thing though," he continued, feeling his voice drop low, "They see me as a puppet, someone to inherit their greed and continue their ruthless practices."

"What kind of practices?" he heard you ask, concern flickering in your voice.

He felt his jaw clench slightly, the darkness a welcome shroud for the anger simmering within him. "They price their life-saving drugs at exorbitant rates," he spat, the venom of his words sour on his tongue. "People who desperately need them can't afford them, all because of my family's insatiable thirst for profit. It goes against everything I believe in."

A heavy silence descended. He stole a glance at you, unsure how you'd react. But your expression was open, devoid of judgement, and held a flicker of understanding. It was an unspoken invitation to continue, a safe harbour for the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"They wouldn't listen to reason," he continued, his voice low and defeated. "I've tried, believe me. But logic and compassion seem to be foreign concepts in their world." But still, Geto had to do something right? "Maybe, just maybe, by learning their game, I can break this system and change it from within. But honestly," he admitted with a bitter laugh, "I don't even know if that's possible. Their control is absolute."

The darkness seemed to press in on him, a reflection of the despair that threatened to consume him. He yearned for a way out, a way to break free from the gilded cage his family had built for him.

Your hands squeezed his, bringing him back to the present. "That's a lot to carry," you finally said, your voice soft but firm. "The anger, the frustration, the feeling of helplessness." You paused, letting your words sink in. "But Suguru," you continued, your voice gaining strength, "don't let them steal your compassion, your beliefs. As long as you hold onto them, you’ll find a way. I know you will”

Geto smiled. You were so sweet, so kind, trying to comfort him. It was a small, tired smile, the kind that held the weight of the world but acknowledged a sliver of sunshine breaking through the clouds. Your words, laced with a quiet strength, resonated deep within him. It was true. He couldn't let their greed and corruption taint the core of who he was. But, at the same time, he knew it wasn't wise to hope for much when it came to his parents. Still, he wouldn't burden you anymore with his issue. Maybe a lighter topic would chase away the shadows that had crept into the conversation.

"You're right," he said, his voice regaining a touch of its earlier playfulness. "Now, answer my question from earlier." He raised an eyebrow in mock seriousness, hoping to lighten the mood.

He saw you smile, but it wasn't your usual, happy smile. A faint shadow flickered across your features, a subtle shift in your demeanour that sent a wave of unease through him. "I was in a car accident a few years ago - both my mom and I," you said, your voice softer than usual, your fingers twisting a loose thread on your shirt.

The playfulness drained from his face. An accident? The image of mangled metal and shattered glass flashed unbidden in his mind. "Oh," he stammered, unsure of what to say.

"Another car crashed into ours," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. "The driver was drunk. Thankfully, the major impact was on my side, so my mom wasn't hurt too bad."

This wasn't what Geto was expecting to hear. He watched as you reached for your phone, a hollow feeling blooming in his chest. With slightly trembling fingers, you lifted the hem of your jeans, the phone's cool flashlight revealing a constellation of scars that snaked across your calves. Geto's mouth went dry.

You turned towards him, a flicker of vulnerability in your eyes. Hesitantly, you reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, revealing a faint scar that traced a jagged line along your hairline and the back of your neck. The moonlight glinted off the raised, pale flesh, a contrast to the smooth skin surrounding it.

Geto thought he had memorised the expanse of your face, every little detail like the map of a cherished land. But god, was he wrong. He had missed such a big part of you.

Shame washed over him in a sickening wave. He'd been so caught up in his own problems, that he hadn't noticed the silent stories etched across your body. His fingers moved to trace the scar, to feel it under his fingertips, but retracted his hand before it could reach you.

You continued, your voice quiet, "I was bedridden for months, Suguru. I couldn't even speak because a shard of glass had damaged my vocal cords. Hell, I wasn't even supposed to survive, but I did." You let out a humourless chuckle. "I could barely move, I couldn't speak at all, and the frustration – I can't even begin to tell you." You shook your head slightly, a ghost of the ordeal lingering in your eyes.

"My parents were worried, you know, and that's when I started painting," you continued. A small, bittersweet smile touched your lips. "It was horrible at first, of course," you added with a self-deprecating laugh, "but with time, I got better. It became my voice, a way to express the things I couldn't say. Even after I healed, I kept up with it. I wanted to know more – about other people's work, their thought processes, and why they painted what they painted. And so, I chose art as my major." You finished with a shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal or anything.

Geto didn't really know what to say. Words felt hollow compared to the weight of your story. "Does it still hurt?" he asked, the question tumbling out before he could stop it. He mentally face-palmed himself. Really? That was the best he could offer? It sounded insensitive, trivial even, in the face of what you'd been through.

You offered a small, understanding smile. "Sometimes," you admitted. "Not the scars themselves, thankfully. But half of my body is metal now, thanks to the accident. That gets achy sometimes, especially when the weather gets cold." As if on cue, a cool wind rustled through the leaves, and Geto saw the way you flinched so slightly, a shiver running down your body.

Geto's heart lurched. He cursed himself for his obliviousness. Here he was complaining about his family, while you carried the physical and emotional weight of a traumatic experience. Without thinking, he shifted closer, offering you the meagre comfort of his body heat. "Here, let me shield you from the wind a bit."

A warm smile graced your lips as you leaned into him slightly, accepting his support - accepting him. The gesture ignited a spark within Geto, a warmth blossoming in his chest that rivalled the one he offered.

Geto's fingers, which had hovered awkwardly in his lap, found themselves drawn to you again. This time though, they didn't hesitate. With tenderness, they brushed against the cool expanse of the scar on your temple, then trailed down to the faint jagged line along your neck. Your skin felt cold under his warm touch.

You inhaled sharply, your breath catching against his chest. Geto's touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were tracing a sacred map. He met your gaze, the moonlight and stars reflecting in your eyes like a million scattered diamonds. At that moment, it felt like he was peering into a whole new universe, one filled with unspoken stories and hidden depths. A universe he desperately wanted to explore, to get lost in, and maybe, just maybe, find a way back to, together.

His thumb grazed the soft skin of your jaw, a gentle nudge that tilted your face up a fraction. He wanted to see everything, to re-learn every detail etched on your face, the scars, the way the moonlight glinted off the moisture gathering in your eyes. He wanted to learn all your secrets, or at least the ones you were willing to share.

You responded instinctively, leaning in further until the space between you evaporated. Your warm breath mingled with his, a silent question hanging in the air. The stars seemed to wink in approval as the distance between your faces continued to shrink. Anticipation flickered in your darkened eyes, which then fluttered shut as Geto leaned in even closer. Slowly, the space between his lips and yours became nonexistent, a mere breath away.

Just as your lips were about to meet in a brush, The world erupted in a harsh burst of fluorescent light. Both of you jolted back, blinking away the temporary blindness.

It took Geto a moment to realise what had happened. He cleared his throat, the sound rough in the sudden quiet. "We got the power back," he mumbled, his voice thick with the unspoken desire that hung heavy in the air moments ago. His gaze darted away from you for a moment, then returned, searching your eyes for any indication of how you felt about the interrupted moment.

He took in your flushed cheek and your dilated, glossy eyes. That was all the indication he needed. A small, frustrated sigh escaped your lips. "Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The moment, the intimacy between the two of you, was shattered like a dropped glass, leaving behind a thousand shimmering shards of unspoken desire.

The silence stretched, heavy with what could have been. Geto watched as you began gathering your things, a subtle shift in your demeanour that spoke volumes. You turned to face him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the lingering frustration in your eyes. "We should go now, it's getting colder."

He nodded in agreement, his voice thick when he finally spoke. "Yeah, definitely." He grabbed his jacket and dusted it off, the simple action taking longer than necessary. He watched as you reached for your bag, then blurted out, "Here, let me get that," as he grabbed the bag, relieving you of the weight. It was the least he could do, anyway.

Geto had spent hours with you today, yet it felt like mere moments. "Let me walk you home, please," the words tumbled out before he could stop them, fueled by a desire to prolong this stolen time, this unexpected intimacy.

He held his breath, bracing himself for a polite refusal. But then, a bright smile bloomed on your face, a smile that lit up the terrace brighter than the harsh fluorescent lights that had shattered their moment. "Thank you, Suguru," you said, your voice soft but filled with a warmth that sent a thrill through him. "I'd like that."

“Okay, so what happened next? Did you invite him up?” Maki leaned forward, her eyes eager. She glanced at Yuta, who was also listening intently.

Your friends—minus Inumaki—were gathered at the campus café for a small celebration. You’d just received an A+ on your presentation, and of course, you had to share how Suguru's help had played a crucial role. The moment you mentioned his name, their ears visibly perked up.

It had been two weeks since that night on the rooftop, two agonisingly silent weeks. You and Suguru had barely exchanged any texts, and you hadn’t even seen him around campus.

A blush crept up your cheeks as you shook your head. “Of course not! It was just something we felt in the moment. I don’t think inviting him up would have been a wise decision.” You took a sip of your iced tea, the coolness soothing the flutter in your stomach. Every time you replayed the scene in your head, your heart skipped a little. But the silence that followed since then was deafening.

“It doesn’t sound like ‘something in the moment,’ especially with the way you described everything.” Yuta pointed out. One might think he wouldn’t be interested in such stuff, but when it came to his friends, Yuta was always supportive.

"Maybe," you admitted, the word tumbling out before you could stop it. The truth was, the interrupted kiss felt less like a missed opportunity and more like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. But what if you were reading too much into it? The thought sent a pang of disappointment through you, a feeling you quickly brushed aside.

Maki scoffed playfully. "Girl, you were practically glowing when you talked about him! And no one does what he did just to be friendly, you know."

Your cheeks burned even hotter. Maybe Maki was right. Maybe there was something between you and Suguru. A tiny flicker of hope ignited within you, but it was quickly washed away by a wave of uncertainty. Here you were, falling for him, yet his silence indicated that he probably regretted things—didn’t want it. But then the gentle look in his eyes, his silent support, and the way he held you oh so tenderly, shielding you from the cold...

Ugh, it was all so confusing. "But what if—"

Yuta cut you off with a gentle laugh. "Hey, you never know until you try, right? And besides, even if things don’t work out romantically, you made a great new friend. Win-win, I'd say."

You couldn’t help but smile at your friend’s statement. Yuta always knew how to see the bright side. Taking a deep breath, you decided to focus on the positive. Suguru was interesting, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You could confide in him as a friend. But the way his touch comforted you, ignited you...well, that was definitely more than friendly.

"Yeah, you're right," you agreed, a newfound determination settling in your voice despite the nervousness you felt. "Maybe I'll just...see where things go."

Admitting it out loud felt a lot easier. "I like him, you know," you said, looking at your friends with a small smile. "He’s someone who seems to be interested in something that’s not superficial—like he wants to know me, understand me. And it just seems so rare for someone to be genuinely interested in you, right?"

Your friends looked at you with knowing smiles, a silent encouragement hanging in the air. It was probably more than just liking him, you knew. But admitting it out loud, even with just a hint of the deeper feelings swirling within you, felt like a huge step.

The art exhibition buzzed with a quiet energy. The gentle notes of classical music filled your ears, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses from the nearby champagne bar. 

You stood mesmerised in front of a large, abstract piece. It was a puzzle, quiet literally. Fractured squares of vibrant colours and captivating strokes hung on the stark white wall, making an incomplete puzzle, while its other pieces were scattered chaotically on the floor below. The missing pieces created a gaping emptiness in the artwork, a void that tugged at your emotions.

Was it a metaphor for loss  - longing? a commentary on the incompleteness of experiences? You longed to discuss it with Yuta. He'd always loved puzzles; his apartment was filled with framed pieces of puzzles he had solved so far. His mind was a kaleidoscope of unconventional interpretations, making you look at things with a different perspective.

A pang of guilt lanced through you. You were supposed to visit this exhibition with your friends, but Maki wasn't feeling well. Yet, here you were, lost in the beauty of the artwork displayed. Although Yuta had assured you he was taking care of her, telling you to not miss this exhibition, a part of you still yearned to be by your friend's side.

“Intriguing, is it?” A voice interrupted your thought. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The voice, once a source of comfort and playful teasing, now startled you. It was him, the man who had vanished after nearly kissing you under the twinkling stars, leaving you with nothing but lingering confusion and a heart full of unanswered questions.

And now, after almost two months, he was here, asking you this bloody question.

Suguru Geto.

Well, if he wants to play it this way, you can entertain him. After all, two can play this game. "It is," you began, your eyes finally meeting his. "But I'm trying to figure out what the artist is trying to show here."

Geto hummed thoughtfully. "You know what I think?" He paused. Was he expecting a response from you? Well, he wasn’t getting any. You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the artwork.

Undeterred, he continued, his voice taking on a philosophical tone. "This artwork seems to be a metaphor for life. Life throws pieces at you, like the ones scattered on the floor. It's all you need to make your life meaningful and beautiful. Opportunities, people, love..." he trailed off, the last word hanging in the air unspoken.

His gaze shifted back to the painting, his voice softer now. "But it's up to you how you make use of those pieces, to put in the effort to fit them together. If you're not careful, if you wait too long..." He paused again, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to regret and longing passing through them. "The pieces might be lost to you forever."

You sucked in a breath. No, he couldn’t mean what you were thinking. After all, the only conversation the two of you had after hanging out on the terrace was when you told him about your assignment and the grade you scored.

Yes, you had texted him a couple of times after that, but the reply seemed…dry. So, you stopped, hoping Geto would reach out to you when he was ready, but the man beside you never bothered to do anything about it.

But your mind replayed the memory of how he held you that night, a tender embrace that spoke volumes without words. It was a gesture that made you feel cherished, as if you were his most prized possession, far above any material wealth the world could offer. And when you shared the news of your accident, his reaction was unexpected - a mixture of regret and concern, as though he wished he had been there for you, even though he didn't even know you at the time.

No.

You couldn’t allow yourself to go there again.

Not if he wouldn’t follow you, keeping up with you.

Your mind buzzed with Geto’s words, his interpretation of the art piece lingering in your thoughts like an unshakable presence. Was he a piece that life had flung your way, meant to enhance the beauty of your existence? Or did he hold some other significance, perhaps serving as a lesson - a piece that doesn’t enhance the beauty of the puzzle, but serves as a guiding force for other pieces? Was he a fleeting moment of joy, destined to fade into memory like the strokes of paint on a canvas? Or was he a constant, a steady presence meant to shape your journey, to teach you lessons you had yet to grasp?

Stop.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to go there. Not again and again.

This man almost kissed you after you told him one of the deepest truths about yourself, and then disappeared, leaving you alone to deal with the darkness so similar to the inky blackness of that night. But this time, even the stars weren’t there to keep you company.

Leaving the painting behind, you moved towards a different section of the exhibition. Here, the air shimmered with vibrant light. Holographic projections of the paintings danced around you, painting your surroundings with the artist's colourful strokes. These ethereal brushstrokes, magnified and swirling, seemed to come alive, transforming the space into a kaleidoscope of the artist's imagination. 

However, the original artworks remained untouched. Hung on the wall next to their holographic counterparts, they offered a more tangible connection to the artist's hand, allowing you to study the physical texture of the canvas, the subtle nuances of the brushstrokes, and the deliberate choices of colour.

The projections painted your off-white dress in different colours, the fabric a soft caress against the skin of your calves as you walked from one painting to another.

Geto followed you closely behind as you navigated through the section, his silence a palpable presence behind your back. You felt his gaze track your movements, but you paid it no mind, completely enthralled by the painting before you.

It was a complete mess. It was a riot of colour, a whirlwind of strokes, a storm of emotions, yet it held you captive. The longer you stared, the more it seemed to transform, the chaos morphing and shifting before your very eyes. What initially appeared as a meaningless jumble began to hold meaning, revealing a hidden order within the frenzy. The chaos formed a structure - The structure within the chaos.

It was almost as if the holograms mirrored your feelings - Confusing, chaotic, shifting.

Lost in the painting's mesmerising chaos, you barely registered Geto's approach. He stood so close behind you that the warmth of his body radiated through your clothes, his upper arm brushing against your shoulder. His voice, soft and low, shattered the silence.

"What are you doing at this exhibition?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Turning around to face him, you finally took him in. Dressed in a brown turtleneck that mirrored the depths of his eyes, his attire accentuated their warm, inviting hue. He wore a casual blazer on top of it, the colour slightly lighter than the colour of his turtleneck. His raven hair, noticeably longer, was tied back in a simple half-bun, the remaining strands cascading down his shoulders. The change, subtle yet noticeable, added a touch of softness to his features.

But what stood out the most were the circles under his eyes and the hollowness of his face. Even as the holograms danced all over his face, they did nothing to conceal his worn-out state; they almost amplified it.

A pang of concern flickered in your chest, a fleeting thought about his well-being. However, you quickly pushed it aside. Geto was the one who decided not to keep in touch anymore, so now it wasn’t your job to be concerned.

But of course, it wasn’t easy to just get rid of your feelings for someone like they never existed, was it?

"This is an art exhibition, open to all," you finally answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "and in case you forgot, I am an art student, Geto." Your voice was filled with sarcasm, and Geto chuckled. You smiled sweetly at him as you asked, "What about you?"

"Well," he began, his voice laced with a playful drawl, "as someone just said, this is an art exhibition, open to all." He shrugged, smirking. You gave him one final, unamused look before your eyes turned back to the painting.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and the lingering warmth of Geto's presence. Finally, he spoke, "What do you find so captivating about this painting?"

His voice, a soft melody laced with genuine wonder, resonated with a yearning that transcended mere curiosity. It was as if you held the key to answering the storm of questions swirling within him, your insights holding a weight far greater than anything else. A hunger to delve deeper, to peel back the layers of your being until he could see the very essence of you, consumed him.

A ghost of a smile danced on your lips. How could you deny the man who held such profound significance in your heart, the man who yearned to truly know you, to unravel your soul until there was nothing left to be discovered?

No, of course you couldn’t keep away, no matter how hard you tried.

Finally, you answered him. If he wanted a piece of your mind, you would gladly offer it to him. "For me, it’s those golden strokes," you began, "It was definitely a risky move for the painter. Those strokes could have ruined the painting, but it didn't. Instead, it made this painting what we see."

Geto hummed, "So, you feel like that stroke was a bold move for the painter?"

You nodded your head in response. Geto continued, "But what if that stroke ruined the painting?"

A slight smile played on your lips. "Well, then the painter would have learned something important. They'd know they could create the painting again if they wanted to, and that's a power in itself. They'd know they have the skill and the confidence to reach that level of greatness again." You looked him in the eye, your gaze pinning him, "Even if the stroke ended up ruining the painting, the artist could always put in the effort of making it again, and that in itself is a form of victory. They wouldn't be afraid to take that bold step again and again, till the painter gets what they want from the painting."

Geto's gaze drifted away for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly as he processed your words. It was as if he was engaged in an internal debate, weighing the implications of your statement against his own judgement.

“I wish I could look into your mind.” He finally said, his eyes slightly wide in wonder.

But oh Suguru, little did he know, he has been settled there since the two of you met in the cafe.

A soft buzz from Geto’s phone brought you out of your thoughts, making you realise how quiet it was around you. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message. As you watched him, the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and met your gaze. "It was good seeing you again," he said. Were you overthinking, or was his voice a touch more formal than before? "I have to go now. Enjoy the exhibition."

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried, leaving you standing there with a lingering feeling of unease. You hadn't had a chance to say goodbye, and the abruptness of his departure left you wondering about your interaction with Geto.

Soon, you were done with the exhibition, the vibrant colours of the holograms still dancing behind your eyelids. Your mind buzzed with inspiration, the beauty of the paintings displayed sparking a flurry of ideas in your head.

The puzzle painting seemed to mock you as you passed it one last time, the question echoing in your mind: where did Geto fit in your life? What piece of the puzzle was he?

Exiting the building, you descended the stairs, the chill in the winter air making you shiver despite your sweater. As you reached the bottom, your steps slowed, coming to a halt. There was Geto, standing by the entrance. But he wasn't alone. He held a woman close, his arms wrapped tightly around her like he never wanted to let go. Her head rested against his chest, and his eyes were closed, almost nestled against her shoulder. The intimacy of their embrace was undeniable, a silent language of comfort and connection that spoke volumes.

Despite the prickling suspicion in your chest, you knew better than to jump to conclusions. This wasn't your place to pry. Yet, the image of their closeness branded itself into your brain, a searing feeling that left your heart burning.

"Well, don't you two look cute," a voice boomed. You looked up to see a man with white hair and sunglasses approaching them, a wide grin plastered on his face.

Gojo Satoru - the name echoed in your mind - Geto's best friend.

You watched as Geto and the woman pulled away, the woman playfully swatting Gojo's arm. But it wasn't the playful interaction that held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see the lingering longing in Geto's eyes as he looked at her.

It hit you like a punch to the gut. This was what he'd been preoccupied with. This is why he had kept you in the dark. This all felt like a cruel joke, life playing a twisted game on you. Of course he had a girlfriend - a guy like him probably had women lining up around the block.

You shook your head, a humourless chuckle escaping your lips as you made your way down the remaining stairs. Yeah, it was pretty obvious what kind of piece Geto was. A missing piece, a piece that belonged to someone else's puzzle, not yours.

You stood outside maki’s wooden front door, finger hovering over the buzzer.  But, before you could ring, the door swung open, its hinges creaking slightly as familiar black, tousled hair came into the view.

Yuta lifted his head, momentarily startled to see someone standing right outside the door, before his eyes met yours. A small smile graced his lips. You took note of the black duffle bag hanging on his shoulder.

You returned his smile, “Leaving now?” you asked him, watching as a small blush crept up his cheek. “Yeah, Maki is feeling better now, so I figured I should go home.” He answered, relief clouding in his eyes before his expression turned curious, “Oh, how was the exhibition yesterday? Again, I am so sorry we couldn’t make it.”

You shook your head, dismissing his apology. “No need to apologise, Yuta.” Despite the events of last night, you found yourself smiling. After all, you saw some works by your favourite artists. You cannot let a man - no matter how much he meant to you - ruin something that you have been looking forward to so eagerly.

“The exhibition was great, Yuta,” You said, as you told him about the puzzle artwork. “I really missed you guys there, you would have loved it too.” You finished, hoping to convey your sincerity with your words. 

Yuta’s eyes lit up and his smile widened, “That sounds amazing! I hope next time all of us can go” He said, before gesturing towards his bag, “Anyways, I gotta go now - Maki’s in her room, by the way.” With a final wave, he moved towards the front door, the door shutting behind him as he left Maki’s apartment.

You made your way towards her room, the minty smell of ointment filling your nose. You found Maki sitting on her bed with a small crochet blanket draped over her legs. The vibrant colours of the blanket reminded you of summer. 

Maki looked up when you approached, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she rolled her eyes, inviting you to sit on the bed. “I knew I would see your face today.” she said, causing you to smile. Her voice today was a far cry from the shaky, tired voice she had yesterday.

Yeah, Yuta was right, Maki was definitely feeling better.

You also noticed that some colour has returned to her face, and Maki looked better now than she did at college, and this observation somehow soothed and comforted you. You enquired about her well-being and got to know that Maki had a cold and fever, but thanks to Yuta’s support, she was feeling far better. 

Oh, Speaking of Yuta…

“So Yuta stayed the night, huh?” You finally asked, an eyebrow raised and a smirk gracing your lips. 

Maki rolled her eyes again but she didn’t shy away from the topic. You watched as the top of her cheeks turned slightly pink. It was a rare sight, something you found so cute. Both Yuta and Maki had a similar reaction to a similar situation.

“Yeah, he was just making sure the fever doesn't get worse or anything,” she said, a small smile on her lips as if she was recalling last night. “He was really sweet about it, actually.” She said it as if she just realised it too.

You smiled for your friends, “So, do you want something with him?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Maki’s expression turned thoughtful, though a hint of playfulness remained, “I do like him,” She admitted. There was no hesitancy in her voice. “But I don’t want to force things with him or anything. Just go with the flow, you know?” She met your eyes as she said, “Besides, he is a great friend - that matters above everything else.” 

You admired Maki’s clarity. She knew what she wanted. 

Nodding your head in response, you reached out to squeeze Maki's hand. But just then Maki let out a small cough. You quickly reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and handed it to her, "Here, take a sip of this."

After a few sips, a sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Alright," she said, her voice slightly raspy, "enough about me. Tell me what’s going on between you and that Geto guy?" Her gaze, even dimmed by illness, held its usual unwavering intensity. It burrowed into yours, leaving no room for secrets. “And don’t lie, I can tell something is bothering you.”

Your heart sank at the mention of Geto's name, the emotions from last night bubbling back to the surface. You avoided them, though. "I think he's seeing someone else," you admitted with a bitter chuckle.

Maki's frown mirrored your own confusion. "But from what you told me…?"

"Yeah, I know," you sighed, your voice heavy with resignation. "But then again, we didn’t speak for two months. I don’t really blame him for pursuing someone else."

But the ache in your chest refused to dissipate, stubbornly clinging to the remnants of hope you had tried to bury.

You recounted the events of the exhibition, the cryptic nature of Suguru's words, and the sight of him with another woman. Maki listened attentively, her unwavering gaze conveying understanding as you poured your heart out to her.

Maki sighed, her disappointment evident in the furrow of her brow. “The woman you are talking about,” she began, her tone tinged with frustration, “I think I saw her and Geto at a cafe - the description sounds the same. But I didn’t think much of it because I just assumed they were friends or something.” Another sigh escaped her lips, laden with exasperation. “But from what you're saying… man, that guy is so clueless!”

"Now, there’s no point in that anyway," you murmured, your shoulders slumping as you shook your head. "I’m just disappointed because I thought we had something, but I guess I just misunderstood things."

Maki's eyes flashed with indignation. “I saw the way he looked at you in the cafeteria - like a teenage boy looking at his first crush. It was so sweet it was almost disgusting,” she said, her nose scrunching up slightly. “So no, you did not misunderstand things. That guy turned out to be an asshole.”

Maki reached out and squeezed your hand, a gesture so unexpected from her that it caught you off guard. “You deserve better than someone who doesn’t know what he wants.” Her gaze was intense, taking in your slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “You know what?” she began, determination clear in her voice. “Give me your phone.”

“You are not texting him,” you said sternly, though you unlocked your phone and handed it to her anyway.

“Of course not,” she replied with a humourless chuckle. “He isn’t worth my time.” You rolled your eyes at her statement, but the corners of your lips twitched upwards, feeling a bit of the weight lifting off your shoulders.

You peeked over your phone, curiosity getting the better of you. Maki was busy downloading - “A dating app?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

Maki nodded in response, her fingers flying over the screen as she added a description and prompts to your profile. “But Maki, I don’t want to date someone just like that,” you protested.

“You deserve to meet someone new and exciting. It doesn’t have to be serious,” Maki replied, her voice firm but caring.

You had never used dating apps before, so you felt hesitant to try it out. The idea of swiping left and right felt strange, almost impersonal. But another part of you was curious to see how things would turn out. After all, college was ending soon, you had barely dated anyone until now, and then the thing with Geto...

Maki looked up from the phone, her expression softening slightly. “I know it feels weird, but sometimes you need to step out of your comfort zone. Just give it a try. If you don’t like it, you can always delete it.” She angled the phone towards you, the dating app now downloaded and ready to go. “Think of it as an adventure. You never know what might happen.”

Maki began swiping for you, her eyes occasionally flicking up to check your reaction. One particular profile caught your eye. “Wait!” you stopped her just as she was about to remove the profile.

“What? Him? Really?” Maki asked, her nose scrunching up in mild disgust.

“Hey, he looks good, okay? But that’s not the point,” you said, leaning in to get a better look. The picture of a familiar white-haired man stared back at you. “That’s Geto’s best friend, Gojo.” You told her, swiping down on the profile to see more.

You came across a picture of him and Geto, seemingly from a beach trip. Both of them were wearing floral shirts and sporting big grins. The sight of them together stirred a mix of emotions within you. The carefree happiness on Geto's face contrasted sharply with the confusion and heartache you felt.

The text with the picture read:

Yeah, that’s my best friend, but you won’t find him here. His heart is already taken, but mine isn’t ;)

You shook your head, ignoring the icy feeling that crawled up your veins; a feeling that didn’t have anything to do with the cold, biting wind outside. After a few more swipes, you got some matches. Maki took over, texting them on your behalf.

“‘Are you free tomorrow?’” Maki read the text from one of your matches out loud. Yeah, you were free, but was it wise to go out with someone you barely knew? As if sensing your hesitation, Maki said, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, but I think you should.” Then, she added, “It might help you deal with your feelings for Geto.” You noticed a hint of bitterness when she said his name, as if it left a sour taste in her mouth.

You bit your lip, considering her words. Maki has always been your rock, her advice helping you through the toughest situations. Finally making up your mind, you said, “Yeah, I guess I’ll go out with him - see how it is.” Then, with a teasing tone you said, your voice light, “But I am going only for you.”

Maki smiled at you, her expression lightening. “Great! I’ll text him then.” Her tone turned serious. “But keep texting me, okay? He seems okay, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be worried about you.”

You smiled at your friend’s protectiveness. “Yeah, I will Maki, don’t worry about it.”

A small part of you felt like this was wrong, especially since there was no communication between you and Geto to clear things up. But he had started dating someone else, hadn’t he? His heart was already taken, wasn’t it? So did it matter what you felt for him? Clearly, it didn’t mean anything to him, so the sooner you got over it, the better it would be for you.

The sudden crack of lightning jolted you, sending a streak of black liquid across your eyelid just as you were applying your eyeliner. A muted curse escaped your lips as you grabbed a makeup wipe, determined to fix the line. But the damage was done – a dark smudge now decorated your under-eye. With a sigh, you opted for a clean look, wiping away the eyeliner completely.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a low rumble of thunder. Your brow furrowed as you pulled on your clothes for the date. Winter rain was a rarity, but the damp air and earthy scent were unmistakable signs of a downpour.

You had to hurry now. Getting caught in a winter rain shower was the last thing you wanted, especially with your already achy legs. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that you were looking presentable. Despite the eyeliner disaster, you felt satisfied with your hair and makeup.

You made your way towards the restaurant, taking the subway. As you emerged from the station, the warm, stale air was replaced by a blast of icy wind that stole your breath. It was raining now, but thankfully it was misty; the droplets of water barely felt like anything. The rain clung around your face, blurring the city lights into shimmering halos. The rhythmic rumble of the train faded behind you, replaced by the traffic honks and the murmur of people walking around.

Your legs felt like lead as you trudged towards the restaurant. You'd chosen a cosy Italian place that was a little far from your apartment. Your date had insisted on a ‘middle point’ since he lived far away from your place, and you couldn’t protest.

Doubt gnawed at you. Was this the right way to get over Geto? The memory of his supportive glances and gentle laugh sent a pang through your chest. This date with someone you barely knew, suddenly felt like a flimsy shield against a tidal wave of longing. Yes, you and your date had exchanged some text, but could you really judge a person just through texts? But cancelling now felt like a betrayal – you couldn’t bring yourself to leave someone hanging like that while they waited for you.

With that in mind, you pushed open the glass doors of the restaurant. The smell of molten cheese and basil greeting you, followed by the gentle clink of glasses and happy murmurs. The whole place was bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights. 

Once inside, you navigated through the crowded space until you spotted a familiar-looking face. Your date's blond hair was combed neatly, but there was something different about his hair compared to the pictures you saw. Still, you paid it no mind as you made your way to the table.

As you reached the table, you noticed an almost empty lowball glass that sat in front of him. It had a single ice cube clinging to the bottom of what appeared to be bourbon, given by its amber colour. Before you could dwell on the obvious red flag, dark hazel eyes met yours.

You forced out a smile. “Hey, you must be –”

The words died on your lips as he cut you off, his voice clipped. "You're late."

Huh?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Looking forward to your feedback 🌷

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I know things take a turn here, and even I wasn't expecting this to happen but it just happened, to the point I had to change the storyline lol

@whereflowerswenttodie @celestie0 @lostfracturess @nakariabnrb @yungbloode

@peppertoastuniverse @hopefulpeachcolor

Stained glass and heart dividers by @/saradika

Line divider by @benkeibear

Galaxy divider by @/cafekitsune

[jazziejax]

𝐂𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐢’𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - The aftermath of the rebellion told from a different perspective. How a small family was ripped apart in the matter of seconds and their lives were never the same again.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - wounds, death, blood, stabbing, crying, panic attacks, anxiety, magic if that’s spooky to you, screaming, and all around distress. I never really know what to but in this section honestly.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - Is this another fic that will probably become a series that I won’t finish? Jaybe, jaybe not. But if you’ve been looking for me, know that I have chapters written for my other fics, I just needed to take a break due to finals week and the distraught I went through with the show Arcane, hence why I’m writing this now. Also, I stayed up until 3am writing this, not don’t mind the mistakes, I tortured myself and cried. Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors!!! ALSO, this is sort of an OC fic but it can be read as reader. I try to stray away from too much description because I don’t think I’m that good at it, but I only write in OC format because it’s easier for me to visualize and write what I want you to see. I should really get into 1st and 2nd person wiring more often.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5,491

“Darling, I’d wait for you, even if you don’t ask me to.” Chimed shakily over the muffled sounds of screaming and explosions. “Tie a lasso around the moon, and bring it on down, for you.” The voice quivered, and her grip intensified when the sounds of explosions became closer to where the children hid.

“I’d bottle the feelin’ you give and shelve that stuff for years to come.” The smaller child, wrapped in her sister’s arms, could feel the wet drops of the other girls' tears hitting the exposed nape of her neck. She had her face stuffed within the crook of the older girl's neck, trying to focus solely on the sound of the soothing song and her racing heart. They softly swayed, trying their best to soothe themselves and the other as the chaos outside continued. They were tucked into the corner of a home that wasn’t theirs, only there to wait for their parents to get back from their part of the rebellion.

“Cause baby when your arms are around me, I’d swear I’m holding the sun.” She continued to sing, the smaller girl chiming in at the end as she righted her grip. The older girl only moved her grip from her sister’s back to wipe away the stray tears running down her face.

“I’d give you the sun if you asked me. You could have all of the time.” The older sang, getting slightly choked up when she saw glimpses of light and shadows through the window near the door, in perfect timing with gunshots and bombs. “You could have the stars and the trees when dividing up the universe...” She trailed off, taking the necessary pauses within the tempo of the lullaby, but also because she needed to breathe to calm her racing heart.

She rubbed the back of the slightly smaller girl's head, moving up in the motion of the get black bun at the top of her head. She tucked them more into the corner, her back itching from the old, moldy, wood and rusted nails that dug into her skin. The only indicator was that this was a real. That this nightmare was her reality.

“You could have mine. You could have mine.” The girls sing at the same time, both of their eyes closed as they envisioned the chorus being sung in the melodic and comforting voice of their mother. The eldest couldn’t hold it in anymore. As choked herself on a sob as she fluted her sister, leaning her ear back into the corner. She tried to stop the tears rolling down her face, eyes clenched and her teeth gritted.

The younger girl didn’t really know what do to for her aching sister, all while trying to heal her own pain that she was unsure of having in the first place. So she just held her righter, reassuring her that she was there, even though she couldn’t do much. Her face stayed in the crook of the girl's neck, the only sense of comfort was the smokey scent of poppy flowers her sister always held from her taking the pair to roll in the Piltover flower fields at night.

All the older girl could do to soothe the pair was to continue to hum the song, tried from the constant state of worrying she’d been in for what felt like hours. Her head was still headed back as she held her sister, the pair drifting off into an exhausted but unwanted slumber.

The small sense of comfort didn’t last long, for the youngest at least. She rose her head from the girl's neck, her ears no longer muffled from the contact. She couldn’t hear much, which was good considering the stark contrast of the sound of war that was previously raging beyond those doors.

But what wasn’t good was that her parents weren’t back yet.

She raised herself more, her sister’s arms dropping from her sides and onto the dust-ridden ground as she moved.

“Maggie.” The younger girl whispered, looking at her older sister, who didn’t react. “Maggie.” She said again, the some leaning closer and giving her the finest nudge, to not make too much noise.

Still nothing.

She sighed, decking that the girl had to be exhausted from all the anxiety that riddled them not long ago. She then just decided to rise from her sister’s legs, which were probably relieved to be relaxed from her weight.

Her knees popped as she stood, releasing tension from being in that fetal position for so long. She shook off her jacket, laying it on top of the girl's sleeping form to fill in for the warmth she was leaving.

She then turned around, slowly stepping towards the window near the front door. She hid behind the wall, trying to not put her whole body into the frame of the glass as she analyzed the state outside. She couldn’t see much, fire and smoke fogging the glass and sky. She sighed, glancing back at her sleeping sister. She could see the streets as even getting to her in her sleep, a permanent frown over her features as she dreamed.

She needed to find their parents.

“I’ll be right back, Maggie.” She sighed, her hands clenched as her heart began to race. “I have to find mom and dad.” She said.

She jumped before placing her hand on the door knock, the rusted metal was slightly warm due to the fire that lurked nearby. She then slowly opened the door, the wood and metal surprisingly quiet, not that any could hear her over the cracking of everything burning. But it was good to be safe.

She closed the door behind her, stepping onto the damp mud that seemed to grow from the fissures. Her boots made no sound as she lurked her way through the smoke. She brought her shirt up to cover her nose as she began to slightly cough, her eyes stinging. She shivered slightly, her bare arms and hole-filled pants not doing much to provide warmth.

She only let out small coughs as she made her way through the murky area, glancing at piles of…she didn’t know what, she couldn’t see that well. She decided not to dwell on it much, only trying to make her way to the bridge she knew her parents would be at.

That's where they said they’d be.

She waved smoke out of her face as she walked only minutes away, coming into a better clearing. She was only about ten feet away from the only thing separating Zaun and Piltover when she saw it.

Bodies.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of them. There were flames everywhere, the ones on this end not being put out by the equipped enforcers.

Her eyes were no longer watering just from the sting of the smoke.

Bodies lay around the ground surrounded by the entrance near the structure. Bodies of people she knew, people she saw within her town. The woman from the brothel who used to come to her mom for cosmetics. The man from the food stand that gave them free fruit and bread if their dad would make his famous fruit pastries. The elderly couple that used to sit around and tell fascinating tales to the children, takes that she only hoped were true. She saw kids her age and older, people she used to play with near the stream.

Bodies that looked too familiar. Dressed in their usual bright colors.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” She uttered as she ran into the bridge, only briefly dodging being brunt from the flames around her, feeling the heat on her skin. Closer to their side, lay the familiar figures of her parents. Her breaths began ragged and she sunk to her knees near them, tears streaming down her face. “No, no, no, no, no. Mama, Papa, no.” She cried as she shook them. “Come on, get up.” Shaking them vigorously.

Her mind was scattered, deciding to work on them one at a time. She moves over to her father, who later on his stomach, facing away from her. “Come on, Papa, you have to get up.” She said through the tears streaming down her face. “You have to up for us, please.” She begged.

She received not even an inkling of a response, causing the girl to sob. She placed her head onto his back, breathing in his pinewood scent that was now mixed with the smell of smoke. She sobbed into his blue shirt, leaving stains of snot, spit, and tears from her gut-wrenching sobs.

Her mind ran a mile a minute, the girl continued to cry as she moved over to her mom, the woman lay on her stomach, looking up at the stars. Her hand was covering a wound she had had in her abdomen, a fancy knife sticking out. A Piltover Enforcer knife. “Please Mama, you have to make it. Please!” The girl sobbed louder, moving to place her hand over her mom’s, her smaller hand getting slicked with the woman’s blood. She was in the state of grieving her father while she tried to care for all she had left.

She could feel the shallow breath the woman took with her hand on her abdomen. She had a little hope.

“Please Mama, please! You have to hang on for me.” She cried, placing her head on the woman’s chest. She got no answer in response to the sobs that racked through her body, but she could hear her faint heartbeat.

What she couldn’t hear was the sound of boots smacking against the pavement, making their way closer to her.

Maggie let out an uncomfortable groan as she raised her head. She brought her hand up as she twisted her neck, trying to alleviate the pain she now had from napping with her head back.

In doing so, the jacket that blocked her from the cold nature of Zaun hit her like a brick. But it wasn’t the freezing air that she was focused on.

It was the missing body of her sister.

She immediately jumped up from her sitting position, unstable from just waking up and her tired legs having not moved since the weight of her sister was on them. “Dessa?” She called out, looking around the small, abandoned house. She got no answer.

She moved to look around any part of the home the girl could be in, the old home creaking and dark. And her sister was nowhere to be found. She then looked at the front door, noticing the smallest crack left by the girl leaving. And her heart dropped.

She rushed to swing the door open, not caring to be discreet like they planned as she looked for her little sister. “Odessa?” She called out, looking through the smoke and flames that surrounded her. No response.

She drew in a hiss as tears started to prick her eyes, not knowing what to do. She couldn’t care less about all the smoke she was inhaling due to her fast breathing, or the smoke that stung her eyes.

All she wanted to do was find her family.

“Odessa!” She moved around in the smoke, calling out for the girl. Her feet were frantic as she dodged flames. Her sporadic movements and racing thoughts caused her to trip over something, falling head-first into the muddy ground. She glanced down at what caught her ankle, her breath getting caught in her throat as she gazed into the bead eyes of someone. She let out a small yelp as she backed away from the body, trying her best to get to her feet.

She stumbled on her way up, her eyes jumping to everything around her, taking in nothing but bodies and flames. Her heart raced as her eyes darted every which way. She was too in shock to even cry, but she could feel her heart contort within the confines of her chest as panic began to set in. The thought of her whole family being gone.

She trudged through the heat, trying to catch a glimpse of even the smallest of movements as she looked for her family. “Mama, Papa!” She screamed. “Odessa, please! Where are you!” She knew she was taking a risk by being so loud, especially when someone dangerous could be lurking anywhere. But she didn’t care. That only meant that maybe she’d be put out of her misery and join the ones she lost, or that her family would have to grieve her, but at least they’d be together.

Her breathing was more than labored, it was short and skipping. Her eyes were frantic when she caught something not far away from her. She could see a tall figure move through the smoke. She inched forward, trying to see through the glass that was blocking her vision. She was only feet away when she saw the back of an enforcer. She was moving his way in on something with his gun pointed.

She watched, trying to see what he was seeing until her eyes caught the familiar yellow, baggy pants on the ground not far away from him. And she stopped breathing altogether.

Odessa snapped her head up when she heard the gravel under his boots, making eye contact with the dark glasses of the enforcer had mask. She gritted her teeth, rage filling her at the sight of him. “You did this!” She yelled, not caring for the gun aimed at her. Whoever was behind the mask hesitated the moment her eyes met theirs, as if they were taking in the scene of it all.

“You did this and you’re gonna pay! Your whole bloodline will! All of you Pilte scum!” She screamed in rage, moving to the knife lodged in her mother’s side. She didn’t want to remove it, but she’d rather this officer die at her hands for the sake of her mother than die with no revenge.

Maggie heard it all and watched the scene in shock. She could see the dead bodies of her family from where she stood and her sister was about to die. But she couldn’t grieve now. Grieving was a luxury she didn’t have at this time.

So she looked around her, spotting a machete some dead Zaunite held as they marched into battle. She didn’t think before ripping the blade out of their hands. She was immediately running to her sister, trying to save the only family she had left.

“ODESSA!” She belted as she ran, catching both of their attention. The distraught girl looked over at her sister while the Enforcer eyed the girl running their way. She was moving at an insane speed, a sharp blade in her hands and fury written on her face. See the woman, the officer moved to aim their gun and the charging girl, but she was too close. Her sister’s eyes widened, watching the movements they both took. “Magnolia, no!” She screamed. But she was too late.

She plunged the blade into their chest, just as a gunshot sounded.

Things seemed to be more silent than ever, birds squawking and flying off due to the surprise of the loud sounds. The cracking of the flames seemed to drown out all around them, the sound was the gasping coming from the enforcer. Maggie’s breathing was still labored as she pulled the long blade out, causing the enforcer to choke on their blood, before she plunged it back into their heart, causing the body to fall.

They collapsed backward, practically sliding off the knife in her tight grip. She heaved as she watched them fall, a pool of blood beginning to surround them. Odessa removed her hands from her ears and opened her eyes, her eyes moving to the form of her sister before her. She glanced at the body but far away from them before looking back at her family.

Maggie snapped out of her head, moving to kneel on the other side of their parents. She looked her sister in the eye, with different expressions but both full of grief and despair. Magnolia looked over at the still body of their father before glancing back at Odessa, who silently shook her head, tears still streaming down her face. The older girl closed her eyes, trying to stop the pain that twisted within her heart as one tear slipped past her lids and slid down her cheek. “Okay, okay.” She breathed, her hands shaking as she tried to soothe herself in such a situation. She looked down at her mother, seeing the shallow breaths the woman her taking as the knife moved within her abdomen. Her eyes moved from the stars above to look between her two daughters.

“You’re gonna be okay, Mama,” Magnolia said shakily, placing her hands on the woman’s chest. “I’m gonna make sure you’re okay. You’re gonna make it, okay?” Her voice quivered. Her hands moved from the comforting grasp on her chest to the knife in her side. Her eyes were frantic, looking between her mother’s face and her shallow breaths. She didn’t really know what to do and the panic was becoming worse. “Okay. Okay. Okay, I’m gonna save you, okay? I’m gonna make sure everything is okay. Everything is gonna be alright.” She rambled, her eyes trained on the knife that stuck out of the woman. She placed her hands on the handle of the blade, her grip tight but also trying not to apply or alleviate any pressure.

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” She took deep breaths, her eyes jumping from the wound to her mother’s face to her father's dead body. She didn’t know what her next move was going to be but before she could make it, a bloody hand was placed over hers. “Maggie.” Her sister whispered, causing the girl to look up at her. She didn’t meet Odessa’s eyes, which were trained downward.

She followed her gaze, her eyes landing on the blood flowing from the bullet wound in her stomach. She sucked in a breath, watching it seep through her thin clothing. She looked back up, seeing the tears stroll down her sister’s face as she began to shake her head, realizing that she was losing all her family in one fell swoop. “Maggie, no.” She cried.

Magnolia shook her head, scooting forward on her knees to place her hand on the side of her sister’s face. “No, no.” She said, shaking her head as she continued to breathe funny, which they knew didn’t know if it was due to the nerves of everything or the bullet. “Look at me, Dessa. Look at me.” She said softly, her jumpy eyes looking between the glistening ones of her sister. “You will be fine, do you hear me? You and Mama will be fine. I’m going to make sure, okay?” She said, her breaths starting to become shorter than they originally were. Odessa couldn’t believe her, her head shaking as she watched the person she loved wither in front of her.

“Yes, it will, Dessa,” Magnolia said firmly. “Yes it will and you have to be strong for you and Mama, okay?”

“Don’t talk like that, Maggie. Don’t!” The younger girl cried.

“Okay, Dess, okay.” She sighed. She then placed her lips against her forehead, letting the kiss linger before she released her grip on the slightly younger girl. She then placed her hands back on the wound of their mother, who could only watch as tears clouded her eyes. Magnolia couldn’t look at her mother, her gaze focused solely on the wound, catching glimpses of her own as she breathed. “It’s gonna hurt for a bit, Mom, but you’re strong. I’m so sorry, okay?” She didn’t waste time for an answer she knew she wasn’t going to receive before pulling out the knife. She frantically put her hands over it to stop the blood while the woman groaned, causing the girl to clench her eyes shut as if to stop the sounds from entering her ears. Odessa grabbed the knife, hurriedly cutting off a piece of her own shirt and handing it to her sister.

Maggie took it, placing the fabric over to wounds to soak up the blood. She clenched her jaw as she stuffed it in only a smidge, causing the woman to groan again. Magnolia bit her lips, tears rolling down her eyes at the sound of pain coming from the woman. Odessa’s tears never stopped, the girl moving to cradle her mother’s head into her lap, doing her best to provide comfort.

“Darlin’ I wish that you could give me some more time.” Odessa began, her voice quivering as she gazed into her mother’s eyes, singing the song. “To herd the whole sky in my arms and release it when you’re mine.” She tried her best to sing. The woman gazed up at her, a sliver of a smile gracing her lips as she looked lovingly into her daughter’s eyes.

“I'd tell you, "I thought I loved you too" I just didn't have the words to say.” Magnolia chimed in, her eyes trained on the wound that wasn’t stopping its gushing. “I'd put the piece in your backyard, in hopes to be enough for you to stay.” She breathed out, suddenly becoming tired. She placed her head onto her mother’s lap, still applying pressure with the fabric that was becoming slacked in blood. Her other hand tried to find her mother's bloody one, the woman able to flex her fingers around hers, feeling the connection between them.

“I'd give you the sun if you asked me.” They both continued, the younger girl not taking her eyes off the woman who started to blink slower and slower.

“You could have all of the time. You could have the stars and the trees when dividin' up the universe.” She sobbed, seeing the light in the woman’s eyes go out. “No, no, no. Mom, please.” She sobbed.

“You could have mine. You could have mine.” Magnolia continued to sing, drowning out the sound of her sister pleading for the life to stop leaving their mother. Her breaths started to become shorter, and her blinking became slower as she covered the wound, her other hand playing with the fingers of her mother. She closed her eyes, too tired to open them back up. Blood seeped from her wing onto the group next to her mom, connecting to the woman’s hand. Magnolia clenched her jaw, focused solely on feeling the connection between her and her mother, their fingers intertwined as blood seeped between the creases of their being. “You could have mine. You could have mine.” She continued to sing as best as she could, her voice trailing off.

Sobs racked through the younger, her eyes looking between all the of her family laid before her. “No, please! Please don’t leave me!” She cried, looking at them. “Please don’t leave me here! I want to go with you, please!” She sobbed. She held her mother's head, softly rubbing the side of her face before looking up at the sky. “Take me with them, please! Don’t leave me here!” She yelled. All that came was a gust of wind, pushing the smell of her family’s blood and smoke into her nostrils. She sobbed at that, leaning down to place her forehead against her mother’s, tears streaming down her face. “Please.” She said softly.

It was silent for a moment, nothing being heard but the girl's pitiful sobs as she clutched all that she had in this world.

Her eyes were closed when she felt the heat of something near her. She glanced up, catching a light emitting from her sister. The girl lay on her mother, emoting a soft, golden glow that seemed to slowly intensify. She blinked, looking at the girl in confusion.

“Maggie?” She asked timidly. She could’ve sworn she heard a soft and angelic hum come from the glow at her voice, but she couldn’t dwell on it before she watched in astonishment as the glow seeped onto the person she had contact with. The older woman in her lap hummed with a soft glow of her own. The light dimmed within Magnolia as the power transferred, causing the mother to emit the same shine.

And then it went away. Odessa sat there in shock, not knowing what to do.

A gasp ripped through the woman in her lap, her eyes blinking rapidly as she gazed up at her daughter. Odessa immediately burst into tears again, looking down at the woman. “Mama!” She cried, hugging the woman in her position. The older woman placed her head next to her daughters, taking in deep breaths as she felt the breathing and okay girl next to her. “Oh, my sweet child.” She said softly, rubbing her daughter’s head. Odessa seemed to cry harder at her mother’s voice, clutching onto the woman.

The pair held each other for minutes, baking in what they both knew. She died, but now she was back again. She felt the life leave her, felt the pain take over her in her last moments. Odessa saw her eyes become dull as she stopped breathing. But now here she was, breathing perfectly fine, in no pain as she clutched onto her baby.

After only moments of relief, the woman sat up with her daughter's help. She stopped, however at the sight before her. Her eldest daughter and her husband lay, no sign of life.

She saw what happened to her husband. She was there when a piece of rubble fell on him. But that didn’t make the sight of half her life being gone any better. Tears streamed down her face as she looked between the two. Her daughter lay with her head in her lap, trying to gain comfort from her mother in both of their last moments. The woman sobbed, bending down to hold the girl closest to her. “My poor baby.” She cried, clutching onto the lifeless body of the girl.

Odessa stood behind her, her eyes clenched shut at the sound of her mother’s sobs. She couldn’t fathom the sight anymore. The sight of her mother clutching her sister who was now dead.

Dead because of me. She thought.

She doesn’t know what was worse, having to live with the guilt that her mother lost something she loved due to her, or losing her whole family before her. She placed her head into her hands, facing away from the disgust of her now-gone father, sister, and best friend. Her hands were placed over her ears to drown the sounds of everything out, the only thing she could hear was the sound of thoughts.

You did this.

You shouldn’t have left that room.

This is your fault.

Your own sister.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you.

She’s dead because of you!

She jumped at the feeling of hands on her shoulder, causing the girl to look up. Her eyes connected with the soft and loving gaze of her mother. The girl immediately jumped into her embrace. “I’m sorry.”Sobs racked through her aggressively. “I’m so sorry, Mama!” She cried. She was so exhausted that she was not sure if she even had tears left to cry, just dry heaving into the woman’s embrace. “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not honey.” The woman said softly, lifting the small preteen into her arms. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.” She said. But Odessa wasn’t hearing her, clothing onto the woman as she looked at her sister's figure over her mother's shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.” She continued to cry, not sure who she was speaking to now.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay.” The woman said. “We’re going to make it better.” She reassured herself as well, gazing down at the dead enforcer not far from them. She clenched her jaw before moving to grab the machete from the ground. She shored her lasting family in her one arm, looking at the more chaos around them. “Everything will be okay from here on. For me and you. Our family. For us.” She said. Odessa could only nod into the woman’s neck, finding it hard to speak now.

The woman began to move, making her way back home. She stopped at the sound of footsteps behind her, the blade clenched within her hands tightly, ready to defend.

But all that emerged was the familiar figure of the buff man she knew well. He paused at the sight of them, taking in the sight of her stature. The single girl she held with a weapon in her hands.

Vader held the small bodies of two girls, looking back at her. No weeds were changed between the pair, Greg filling their gazes as they took in all they needed to. He nodded at her, and she did the same before the pair walked away together, back to the place they knew as home.

It was quiet. The dark sky still loomed with the aftermath of the rebellion, smoke and red flames filling the area. The bridge was in disarray, broken and disheveled. A tall figure walked down the bridge, into the flames and bodies that surrounded it.

His heavy staff clinked against the metal ground as he passed every other body that littered the hellscape. That was until he made it to the end, and he gazed down at the small figure that lay near her father, a pool of blood that wasn’t all hers surrounded her.

The figure seemed to hesitate, looking at the familiar face that had no life. It was haunting, even for someone such as themselves.

The being then began to wave its staff around, intensifying the wind around him and the girl. Smoke and flames were caught in the magic that surrounded them. The girl's hair was blowing in the wind, her soft glow coming back. Then, runes popped up all around him. It seemed as if he deciphered between different symbols as he kept swinging the staff. Suddenly, a gem appeared in his hand, unscripted with a symbol. When he was essentially making a flame tornado around the pair, he then slammed his staff down, the sound echoing throughout the area.

A magical aura surrounded the girl, her golden glow intensifying as it glitched between that and a soft blue. The aura around her hummed, wind billowing through the expanse of the land as glowed, ruffing the robe the magical being wore. She started to change before his eyes, her dark brown hair lightening a bit as other bits turned a stark white. Her wound healed before him, before she suddenly gasped, her eyes shooting open. The golden glow she once emitted seeped into her from her bullet wounds, tracing its way up her body. The glow shined through her, showing as it came up to her throat and out of her mouth, and floated above her. It rose higher and higher, drifting to meet with the stars before suddenly moving back down, plunging through her and into her heart.

The magic around her left, and the girl suddenly fell from the air, not before the being caught her within his arms. She was unconscious when he gazed down upon her, her mouth open as she let out small snores into the fabric that he was wearing. He held onto her, gazing down at her anew.

He then began moving to the bridge again, the girl cradled in his arms. He held her as he traveled through the city of Piltover until he came upon a familiar building. He softly placed her onto the hard pavement in front of the door, moving to take off one of his scarves and place it under the girl's head. He then placed the rune bead held within her hand, closing her fist around it. He gave a soft pat to her hands before ringing the doorbell to the home.

He offered the girl on last longe gaze before suddenly disappearing.

The grand door creaked open, the small creature immediately looking at the girl lying before his doorstep, while a smaller creature yipped next to him. He glanced around for others, his eyes not ears catching sight of anyone else lurking near.

“Hmm.” The Yordle said. “Now how do I bring you inside?” He questioned himself, one of his small fingers tapping his chin.

Let me know if you cry, I tried to make it sad. I was so sad last night writing this that I had to make the mother live, I couldn’t do it. She probably won’t make it though.

[lets-break-free-from-our-chains]

Ryan Gosling!Ken x Fashion Designer!Barbie!Reader—General HCs

(A/N): I’m obsessed with the Barbie movie. Margot is so stunning as always and she’s one of my favorite actresses. I absolutely adored Ken in the movie. He’s such an icon! Let me know if you guys want more! Sorry if this isn’t the best. This is my first head cannon and I’m using to writing stories and not this format. So beware with me and enjoy!

Ryan Gosling!Ken x Fashion Designer!Barbie!Reader

The ultimate Golden Retriever (Sunshine) x Black Cat (Grumpy) trope

Fashion Designer!Barbie!reader is honestly very similar to Cruella de Vil from the 2021 Film—minus being evil part. More so, your creativity and chaos vibes are on the same level as Cruella’s.

Ken thought he was in love with Stereotypical Barbie until he locked eyes on you.

You were absolutely perfect. Your style was one of a kind and the hottest in-style in Barbieland—everyone wanted to commission outfits from you— and you seemed so elegant and confident.

Non Evil!Cruella de Vil vibes 1,000,000,000%

He literally tripped right in front of you in his haste to make it over to you, but he pulled himself up and gave you a killer golden smile.

You wanted to say you weren’t amused in the slightest, but even you couldn’t help but give a slight smirk at his goofball antics.

You’d never given him much thought beyond the facts that he was super loud, always freakishly happy, acted like a shaken up soda bottle you accidentally opened up.

You thought you might be able to scared him away with your sharp wit, sarcastic and mocking smart remarks. You were sure that your over all jaded and blunt personality would do the trick.

NOPE!

He falls even harder for you. Finding your honestly, transparency, and overall confidence to be so endearing but so unbelievably HOT. Not even Stereotypical Barbie could touch your level.

Imagine his surprise when he finds out you and stereotypical Barbie are very close friends who go way back. TOTAL Pikachu face!

He loves watching you work. You’re so in your element and hyper focused on what your doing. He’s left in awe while watching you tear apart and shred different fabrics. It’s total chaos but he’d never question you. He trusts your masterpiece process almost religiously.

He asks you a zillion and one questions about what you’re doing but lowkey you kind of love it. Someone taking a genuine interest in your art? Everyone else is either too afraid of the consequences of interrupting you or is uninterested in gerenal.

This is one of the many small things that soften your resolve towards him. 

He insisted totally begged you to let him help you carry your bolts of fabrics, material for accessories, and supplies as you went from shop to shop. He refused to let you carry anything.

He talks the whole time and doesn’t really think you’re listening, until you ask him a question about whatever it is he’s babbling about at that point in time.

He could feel the tears of joy welling up in his eyes at the notion that you were actually listening. That could only mean one thing—you respected him.

Don’t even get me started on how Ken acts when you ask for his opinion on a decision or if he likes what you’ve made! He LOVES everything you make btw.

This only sets Ken’s love for you in stone.

Totally asks to be your date to the Barbies parties.

If you thought he was nervous asking out Stereotypical Barbie then oh boy! Fingers crossed, eyes squeezed shut, lip biting—the whole nine yards!

High-key wants to cry when you say yes.

Everyone is always so excited to see the new unveiling of your outfits at any and all parties.

Barbies and Kens never really know what to expect but they all know they’ll be guaranteed the best appearance from you.

Ken is totally smug af that he holds your affections and so he completely and unapologetically rubs it in the other Kens’ faces. 

The first time you genuinely smile at him, he really thought he might die! Your smile is so stunning, perfect, opulent, gorgeous, goddess like, and—

He could go on forever. The point is, you smiled at him! HIM. You never smile at anyone! You smirk plenty, but never smile.

Even on the rare occasion that you do, it’s very small—almost none existent.

You always thought he was very funny. He never had to try hard seeing as he was just a naturally silly fella, but the first time you couldn’t hold back and you laughed loudly at something he said, he was in absolute awestruck.

What he said wasn’t even that funny, it was the way he said it.

All the Barbies and Kens ship the two of you. The definition of opposites attract.

Stereotypical Barbie is totally the official president of the OTP ship fan club for you two.

1000% you look at Ken like this 🥺🥹 and you look at everyone else like this 😒🖕 pretty much!

The patience and softness you exercise with Ken makes others feel like they’ve fallen through the looking glass.

You go from being a ferocious she-lion like this to a total mushy docile kitten with him Like this

Seriously, it so easy for you to snap on someone’s case and put them in their places, but with Ken you have a seemingly bottomless pool of patience.

Legit tho. This was you and him at the beginning of your budding relationship in general…you were over it at first. You really weren’t tho

Someone or something please help the person that hurts Ken—accident or not—whether it be emotionally, physically, or mentally. It’s gonna be a dark day in Barbieland.

It warms Ken all over to have a girlfriend who cares about him and his wellbeing so much. He feels so important, loved, and cherished.

And that’s all baby boy really wants!!!

He loves holding hands and linking arms together.

He’d say it’s his favorite but let’s face it, cuddles are his kryptonite.

Your embrace is so warm and soothing, and surprisingly to him, you secretly adore cuddling.

Though you did tell him if he ever told anyone else that tidbit of information you would never cuddle him again! 

Honey…He sticks to those words like the gospel!

He cannot and will not lose cuddling privileges💯

Now listen. If Ken’s going to date you then his outfits got to be on point, and you make sure of it. You know what he loves outfit-wise and set to work for making him a one of a kind wardrobe.

He actually does cry when he sees the final product of all your hard work for him.

You hate seeing him cry in anyway, it hurts you to see him cry, but at least these are tears of happiness.

You suppose you can live with happy tears…

You guys become the IT couple in Barbieland. You’re the highest standard for couple goals.

Speaking of boyfriend/girlfriend goals.

He has so many adorable nicknames for you but he will never grow tired of hearing you call him by the term of endearment you chose for him.

You call him Baby Darling…

He. Is. OBSESSED!!!

He just about melts into a puddle whenever you call him Baby Darling.

He’s never heard any other Barbie call their Ken that and it makes him feel so special.

Who else loves and ships Ryan Gosling!Ken x Fashion Designer!Barbie!reader?

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[obx-archives]

jj and cuddling just go perfect together !! I would love if you can write something about that ☺️

comfort - jj maybank

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

warning: none

words count: 0.3k

author's notes: this request rented a condo in my mind cause i thought of so many cute scenarios that now, my docs are full of unfinished drafts! sorry that this is shorter than usual, let me know what y'all think of this format! anyway, hope you liked it!

masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

JJ and Y/N found a spot on the beach, they grabbed a bunch of blankets and pillows. With lots of laughs and a bit of chaos, they managed to put together a cozy fort by draping the blankets over a wooden structure loaded with pillows.

Once they got inside, it was like their own little hideout. They squeezed onto the pillows, giggling as they tried to get comfy. JJ threw an arm around Y/N, pulling her close. They talked about random stuff – their fave memories, silly dreams, and even argued about the best way to eat a PBJ.

As the sun started to dip, they watched the birds flying over the waves. They hung out there, cuddling into each other’s arms.

"This feels so perfect, right?" Y/N said, letting out a contented sigh.

JJ nuzzled her hair and planted a kiss on the top of her head. "It’s like living in slow motion."

Y/N chuckled softly at his comparison. "Honestly, I could stay here forever, all wrapped up in your arms, just watching the ocean."

"I wouldn’t mind spending forever like this," JJ grinned.

"Yeah, right. But what about food? You'd barely last a day," Y/N teased.

"Fine, maybe we’ll stash some goodies nearby, just in case," JJ joked. "But let's be real, you'd go crazy without your snacks, lady."

"Ugh, you know me too well. I'd totally go nuts for some Sour Patch," Y/N giggled.

JJ gave her forehead a kiss. "I've had some practice, you know?"

With the calming sound of the waves in the background, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection.

"I love you," Y/N whispered.

"I love you too, Y/N, way more than you can imagine," JJ’s fingers found Y/N’s, and their hands intertwined as they stared into each other’s eyes. JJ pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was sweet, their lips moving together in a soft and intimate dance.

As they pulled apart, JJ pulled Y/N closer. His fingers lazily traced circles on Y/N’s arm as she rested her head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

They watched the stars pop out one by one in the darkening sky, sharing hushed talks and stolen kisses. As the night grew deeper, they wrapped themselves in a shared blanket, holding each other tight.

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© obx-archives 2023 — no one has permission to copy or translate any of my works, if you see any of my work being reproduced in another platform please contact me! :)

[tree-obsession]

2.2 SPOILERS!! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

this is a small lore discussion! mostly speculation and theories- i have not seen leaks about 2.3 plot yet, but i have seen a couple about boothill's character stories, so please keep that in mind!

trigger for mentions of suicide(aventurine) and mega corps(the ipc)

we have to talk about the ending cutscene with aventurine and boothill more! i'll start with my fav parts that no one really has brought up yet:

Aventurine intimidating Boothill after mentioning the guards are out- Boothill sounded so offput and hasty while reassuring him they were just knocked out, and we have to talk about aventurine himself just being intimidating more honestly his glare actually did kind of scare me.

Boothill pointing a gun at aventurine was. well. i'm sorry i did actually laugh at that. boothill i think you should research your targets a bit more honestly that guy is NOT afraid of guns. he fully walked into the nihility and pointed at least one gun at himself, and just got out of his own meticulously-planned suicide. threats of death won't work, sorry. also he has good reason to hate oswaldo schneider as well- threats didn't even have to be used, probably! he would kill him too, probably(revenge arc go go go!!)

the convo between aven and jade was. yeah. why he's betting his life again, i don't know (maybe sarcasm? or it was really just banter?) but it does seem like the two of them aren't super close at all, at least from what little i could gather. also if diamond hurts aventurine the entire fandom will kick his ass, emanator or no, so he better be prepared for that too lol. also, it was a pretty common theory aventurine would leave the ipc after exiting nihility, since acheron presumably broke his ties- i wonder why he went back? perhaps he had no plans as to where to go, or he has some ulterior motive?

how did he get out of nihility so unscathed? (for context, i haven't gotten aven's text messages yet, but i'm aware of some of their contents since they've been floating around w/out spoiler tags. the messages are mentioned a bit here if you wanna avoid spoilering!) i know argenti got him out, but 1) why was argenti there, or where did he even find him? and 2) that seems so random- both argenti and jade confirmed it, but plot-wise what's even the point of argenti pulling him out? also argenti said he was in a "woeful state" when he got out, and apparently the stonehearts are willing to give aven a break (which i'm assuming is major, since stonehearts are super important and have a lot of responsibility, plus he just destroyed a cornerstone) so him already being back on his feet when we see the phone call is a bit weird right away. he doesn't even sound sick, and ratio or any other doctor is nowhere in sight! (message spoilers start here) i'm aware the aventurine cornerstone was fully shattered/destroyed while protecting him from nihility- was he really in there for who-knows-how-long without any protection at all? he's apparently having nightmares and the ipc needed to call in a doctor of chaos to treat him, which is concerning considering his mental health and general will to live were extremely low even before walking into the nihility. like he genuinely has some of the worst will to live i've ever seen in a character or human being- walking through the nihility should have utterly destroyed him mentally and physically, but it didn't. 2.3 HAS to give us a whole lotta context, especially with nihility lore (my favorite aeon, i may be biased) and more about the ipc!

anyway, thank you for reading this poorly formatted, stream-of-consciousness word vomit about 2.2's aventurine lore. hope you liked it! drop ur thoughts in replies and reblogs plz they give me life(although i will be very busy next few weeks, so please don't be offended if you want a reply and don't get it, im so sorry!)

2.2 was peak- a bit slow, but the story was some of the best, if not the best stuff hoyo has given us in terms of writing quality. so great! i cried for sure, and that boss battle was just everything- especially the music. robin my lesbian queen if i didn't have to pull for firefly i would get your lightcone for sure...

see you all next time! thx for sticking around (:

[rinnsverse]

For the follower event, could you do a Percy Jackson x gn reader

Trope: Childhood friends to Lovers, Angst

AU: Riordanverse

Format: Songfic (Nowhere King's Last Lullaby from Centaur World and it's on YouTube)

Plot: Reader gets cursed to be monster, loses their mind or sanity and cause chaos on camp so Percy has to kill him but is so conflicted

Note: you can change parts of this for a smoother writing

CURSE — percy j.

TROPES: childhood friends to lovers, angst

UNIVERSE: riordanverse

PAIRING(S): percy jackson x gn!reader

WARNING(S): reader is kinda suicidal, graphic violence is described

A/N: im sorry if this is sloppy ive been working on a lot of projects rn so I’m lowk kinda burntout but i hope this is good enough <3 (ALSO TUMBLR I AM BEGGING YOU TO SAVE MY STUFF)

“What a Pity to Behold,”

A MONSTER ON the lose in Camp Half-Blood was never untold before, but this time was different.

Black wings adorned its back contrasted by it’s scaly skin and forked tongue, and wide eyes searching the area as its long claws dug into the Earth. It appeared to be humanoid — well, as humanoid as an eight foot tall monster could get.

The campers were in panic, Chiron shooting arrows at it while the Aphrodite kids were dragging the children of Hypnos out of their cabin as to not get crushed. The Hephaestus kids dragged out the weaponry they could manage to get their hands on and loaded them and the Athena kids were desperately searching on what myth this creature appeared in.

Percy was in his pajamas when this all happened.

Running out of his cabins door with Riptide in hand, he had not expected the monster to look directly at him and open its mouth as if it’s ready to devour him specifically. It turned its large body around to look at him.

“Rest Now, Tormented Soul.”

Realizing that of course, this unknown monster would want to target him specifically he ran towards the water in hopes that this was one of the dumb ones who didn’t know fully who he was.

Looking behind him for a brief moment he saw that the monster wasn’t running after him, just walking as if it had all the time in the world. He took cautious steps back and observed its figure and its large wings, scaly skin and outstretched hand.

“If you want to be a knock-off zombie, at least try to make yourself look like one,” Percy taunted, making the monster pause and close its outstretched hand as if observing its own talons.

Seeing that’s it’s now distracted, Percy took this as a moment of opportunity to summon the waves to bring the monster into the lake. As the tide rose and kept on dragging the monster into the water, he saw that it didn’t struggle — in fact, it seemed to not notice it at all until it was dragging it into the deepened.

Thrashing in the water, Percy took one last look at it before realizing it wasn’t a ginormous talon reaching out from the water — it was a regular human hand, and then two before a familiar face rose from the water giving him a longing look. “Percy!”

“Don’t you know I would have loved you the way you were whole?”

Not thinking twice of his actions, he dives into the water and immediately swims to you. Holding your now scaly body in his arms, a bubble forms around you both as it floats to the bottom of the sandy floor.

“Y/N? What happened?” Percy mutters frantically, taking in your new form.

The dark raven wings still on your back — presumably what was weighing you down in the water — scales now decorating patches of your skin, hair now wet and your height reverted to your usual self. It was you.

You place a tired hand on his cheek, “The gods, are horrible beings.” The moment you say those words, a scream erupts from your mouth, body jolting in pain, “I suppose this is the way, they chose to punish me.”

“Punish you? What— oh.”

“So, Hush Now. Time to Move on Evermore.”

Percy has always been open to you about the gods and all the things he’s experienced in his. From the abuse and trauma to the bittersweet victories and memories, he never hid anything from you. And oh, how he regrets it now.

He went to you when he a nightmare about one of previous battles of the wars he fought in, tears flowing from his cheeks as he laid his head on your shoulder. He heard you. The gods heard you. They heard you say:

“The gods are selfish beings, you don’t deserve all the pain you’ve gone through, Percy. If I had the chance to share a fraction of what you’ve gone through to make the burden all the less to bare, I would take it.”

Percy swallowed thickly, barely letting out a whisper, “What do I do?”

Your eyes soften at the sight in front of you, no longer wanting the boy you and so many others treasure to feel so lost, “Kill me.”

“To Open your very Last Door, I will Help you Turn the Key.”

“What?” he rasps out breathlessly, “No, I can’t— I can’t do that. Not to you—“

“Percy, please,” you beg, eyes beginning to well up with tears, “We can’t be trapped in this bubble forever.”

“No I just, I just need more time,” he reasons to himself, “I just have to talk to Chiron— Mr. D. Even! I just— I just need time.”

Your eyes let the tears roll down your cheeks as you both silently beg the other to make a move, a decision though you both had entirely different intentions — one planning to die and the other wanting them both to leave alive.

Slowly reaching your hand towards his back pocket, his eyes widen at your actions yet can’t bring himself to stop you. Taking Riptide out, you gently place it into his that was holding your shoulder, “Do it.”

“When you Leave, I will at Last have Peace.”

Body trembling, he nods his head and leaves your body laying on the sandy ground. You turn to look at him as he uncaps the pen, turning into a shimmering bronze you’ve always admired.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, holding Riptide so it’s blade was facing your chest as if it were guillotine, his eyes squeezed shut.

Smiling at his actions, you close your eyes as the cool metal punctures the scales that you once called skin, a constant flow of tears streaming at the pain of being vaporized yet the relief of death.

As your body gradually succumbed into becoming golden dust, Percy opened his eyes one last time and saw that your body was now back as it used to be — your regular colored skin back where it’s meant to be, and the dark wings weighing you down turned to dust.

Percy’s body crumpled to the ground next to you, muttering apologies and repeating ‘I love you’s’ close to your ear to which you smile and look at his tear ridden eyes saying one last declaration of love to him, “Thank you, Percy. For everything.”

“And our World will Finally be Free.”

A dark void is where you laid, but you couldn’t feel anything. Anything but pain. It felt as if needles were poking you in all directions, the pain dull yet sharp enough to keep you alert.

But then, it was like one of your eyes had been opened as you saw clouds floating in the sky. But those weren’t your clouds, and that wasn’t your sky. The clouds were a color akin to blood and the sky was a depressing gray.

You didn’t know how long it had been, but sometime later you were able to inhale again — breathe. The air wasn’t crisp or fresh — not like you were expecting it to since the clouds were literally red — it was acidic. As if you could feel the toxins.

It was even more time later before you could hear. Hear the loud whines and screams echoing across the plane where you laid. You could only wish to cover your ears to block the sound out.

But then you could. You were able to move your own body with no longer sharp pain piercing you at all sides, just your feet. You look down to see what you’ve been standing on and see black shards. They were stretching for miles, and that was when you finally pieced the picture together. “I’m in Tartarus?”

A/N: i forgot how fun Greek mythology is — my 200 follower event is still ongoing so feel free to request whatever (I might extend the time period since not even half of the requests slots have been filled)

[mercuriians]

my paradise

jjk,, k. nanami x fem! reader

content info — short drabble, angst horribly and lazily disguised as fluff. <3 this fic was borne out of my own anguish upon witnessing certain spoilers. (gege hates us all)

author’s note — sorry for being mia. you guys all know how life can be. luckily i’m on break so i’ll do my best to send out at least one finished request 🙂‍↕️ i’ll fix this post’s format later, for now i hope you guys enjoy my first attempt at writing jjk.

"do you think heaven exists?"

you utter your question so softly, so innocently, in a timid whisper that seems like it barely even leaves your lips in the first place. the moonlight seeping from the window is dim, just enough to surround the room in a bleak, lazy kind of aura. nanami's just about ready to drift away into slumber—where it's dreamless and monotonous, and he simply just exists—but somehow there's a feeling that tugs at him. telling him that he should turn his body to face you, to see whether there's childlike curiosity within your eyes or quiet desolation.

so that's what he does. twisting around in the ivory bedsheets, he examines your expression with an air of diligence that probably shouldn't even be possible in the near-midnight hour. nanami ends up being a bit surprised. somehow you look calm. tranquil. like there's nothing else in the world worth focusing on but him.

but he still treads carefully, cautiously. "why do you ask, love?" nanami's voice is a bit hoarse, a little rusty from the lengthy time he's been silent.

perceptively, he sees the column of your throat move slightly as you swallow. "while i was on break earlier today, yuji asked me something," you admit. "he wanted to know how he could, in his words, 'give people a proper death' when the time came. and i guess that made me think about where we even go when we finally depart from this world. where our souls go to rest."

there's a small, intimate pause as nanami waits for you to continue.

"when we were kids, we were always told that there's a place for the good people and for the bad. obviously it's comforting to let yourself believe that it's all really that black-and-white, but i don't know." your voice trails off again. nanami doesn't know how much time passes when he sees your eyes become clouded over, like you're focused on something faraway. something distant, maybe something that wasn’t even there to begin with. "would there be some sort of paradise waiting for us when we die? would we even deserve that, kento?” you whisper.

he holds his breath.

it was exceedingly rare for you to succumb to such sentimentality. you were almost always driven with diligence, fueled by the need to stick to your schedule of early mornings, midday coffee breaks, and late shifts. in a world where curses ruthlessly threatened to enforce a strict hierarchy of chaos, he recognized the all-too-significant desire to at least maintain a reliable form of organization. especially considering the fact that you were both first-grade sorcerers. some of the very best.

but now, nanami's realizing that maybe, maybe the reason why you were always so vigilant is because there was no other option. there was no time to wallow in self-pity, to question why you both had to live in such a merciless society, to scream out in frustration and curse out every single damn thing in existence and wish that things had been at least a little bit easier.

either you accepted the cards you were dealt with, or you opted out of the game permanently.

nanami quickly wonders what that means for himself. but he shakes off the thought, shakes off the negativity that crept up on him for a split-second with the expertise that he's collected and honed over the years.

right now, his only objective revolved around you.

gently, he reaches out, touching your face with the calloused tips of his fingers. for a moment, he traces the smoothness of your skin, like a paintbrush to a canvas, before moving a loose strand of hair behind your ear. the way you look up at him with eyes just short of being teary makes his chest tighten, but he perseveres for you.

it's all for you. whether he likes it or not.

"i don't know the answer to that, and any sane person living on this planet wouldn't know either," nanami finally utters. as his words hit the empty air, he sees your pink lips curve upwards by the slightest bit. it’s like you can’t help but be amused by his trademark bluntness. even in the middle of such a bleak conversation, nanami’s glad that he can at least bring you some resemblance of joy.

“but the way i see it,” he continues, hand dipping down to find yours almost instinctively, “none of that matters.”

your brows furrow. you curl into his comforting figure. “what do you mean?”

nanami’s eyes meet yours. “i couldn’t give less of a damn about what happens after death. not when i’m here with you in this moment,” he whispers, unable to restrain himself from inching closer, closer towards your face, “and hopefully the millions after.”

his lips brush against your own. it’s tentative, even almost shy—his way of asking you if this is alright.

you seal the gap without a second thought.

nanami pulls you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, as if he was unwilling to ever let go.

the intimacy of it all is enough to make him forget that for a moment, he was lost in thought, lost in the realization that people truly were helpless to whatever happened in the afterlife. but really, above all else, he was a soldier—had been since the day he enrolled at jujutsu high. and as long as you were safe, nothing else would matter. including his own—insignificant, small, dispensable—life.

at that moment, nanami’s armor became yours instead.

[murainhell]

Any headcanons for radioapple or radiorose you won’t be able to add/address to your fics?

This is an interesting question and you have made me think more than I expected haha

Usually, if I think about the characters and how they interact with each other, I tend to do it around a story. So there's a good chance it's already in fic or comic format in my head. Especially as I always move around QPRs with Alastor. Thoughts on him? Plenty. What would he do on a Friday afternoon with Rosie? Hmmm, let's see… *starts writing a scrip* (<- literally what has happened with an idea with Alastor and Vox).

But! After thinking about it, it turns out that I do have ideas in my head that I assume to be true for my stories but I don't think I'm going to be able to talk about. So here are a few:

Alastor and Lucifer 📻🍎

Completely obsessed with them bonding over music, playing instruments and dancing. This is something I wish would also happen in the canon series; they've already sung a song together, they can throw knives at each other in the morning and give a concert in the afternoon lol. But I don't think I'll do anything with that, because there are people who have explored it before. And yes, two cakes! But I don't know anything about those things, I wouldn't know how to describe the situation well. But I assume it's something they do in my fic some evenings; no need to talk, just enjoy the moment.

First activities they do, now what they DON'T do: cooking together. Watching his workshop in canon, I see Lucifer as a very messy person in the kitchen, not cleaning up because, well, magic sorts it out later! Let's experiment! While Alastor has his own chaos, but within absolute control of the situation. He's had time to learn how to handle a crime scene, so it's all neat and tidy in his own way. I did mention this in my fic in passing, but I'm sure I'm not going to add a whole scene of them trying (and they have tried), because it would give me a headache haha

Alastor has a small collection of things he has taken from Lucifer as mementos. In my fic, I think I remember Lucifer thinking in one scene that he doesn't mind leaving Alastor alone in his room because if he wants something he's sure he'll have slipped in before to take it. He was right. Alastor currently has the red monster figurine (which is totally cursed cat), several ducks, some Lucifer blueprints (the best way to disagree with them, make it disappear and the other may forget it existed), and a couple of things that might be relevant in future one-shots, we'll see.

Alastor and Rosie 📻🌹

More tricky because it's more like I haven't had time to sit down and do anything more with them, but some ideas that are in my mind that aren't in any of my fics for now:

Alastor leaves Rosie gifts, especially when they don't have time to see each other. A little ‘I've been thinking of you’. Sometimes roses, sometimes books, it depends. (If any of you are interested in this, it's a good time to recommend this fic "Fawning Over You" by Bexii. It does have a romantic tone, but I really enjoyed it, it's lovely.).

Even if they get along well, they both have a plan in the back of their minds on how they would try to defeat the other if it came to it. They are both smart and need to be prepared for everything; they just trust that day will never come.

On that note, it's exciting for Rosie to be able to trust him! Because of her relationship with men, her current solution to arguments is to get them out of the way, it's not worth the effort the moment being with someone is no longer fun. But Alastor has survived by her side many years and has never failed her. Actually, I think they could both bond around the “ugh, I don't understand men" since he also prefers the company of ladies haha

And I think this is enough for now. Sorry for writing so much oops

[plusvanity]

Finally having the courage to come off anon for this because I feel that it’s important after learning what has been going on.

First off, hello. I’m the anon that had that issue with an ex mutual after they found out I was writing a fanfiction for Lords Of Chaos. Even after I explained numerous times that the fic was just for fun and based off the portrayal in the movie as I don’t feel comfortable writing RPF. But I don’t hate on people that do. I’ve even read some and even enjoyed them. Like your fic Something Rotten. I admit it’s been awhile since I read it, but I really loved your portrayals.

I wanted to thank you again for making me feel better and encouraging me to continue my work even if that incident made me upset. It really helped. I’m so sorry you have to deal with people accusing you of horrible things just because of art. I think people really misunderstand or just have some fucked up version of RPF entirely, thinking that people write it because they want things to be true and that’s like… um no?

I mean isn’t Hamilton and The Crown basically RPF but in TV/Musical formate? People loved that. I also remember seeing a TikTok where someone made a good point about RPF being better than those Gossip Papers where Celebs are being stalked and harassed to see if things are true. And that’s the main difference. These fanfics aren’t being sent to the people they’re about because that’s just wrong and messed up.

Please don’t let the negativity get to you. Your artwork has inspired me a lot and only makes me wish to be better, as well as your writing. Keep using your coping mechanism and don’t let these nasty people make you feel judged for it. Sending all the love hoping you feel better ❤️

Thank you so much, my friend 🫂🫂🫂🖤🖤🖤

Your compassionate message goes straight to my heart. I'm so happy that you found an inspiration in me. This is such a deep compliment. It genuinely brought a smile to my face 🖤

You're very right about fiction. I cannot write about Pelle or Varg, I can only create an interpretation of them, an idealisation (but not in the destructive) sense of the word. An idealisation that guides me through dark times and helps me fix real issues about my selfhood.

Thank you so much for coming forward with this 🖤🖤🖤 Sending love back 🫂🫂🖤🖤

[americanrecord]

woke up to a notification from you, saw the word hypothetically, clicked on it and it was already gone 🙃, but I support it, I think 💕

yes, hi! sorry this is so late, life is annoying. i popped up over on duffmckagans sometime last week and made a post (i don't even remember what i said), and then deleted it like five minutes later because i'm very conflicted about the whole deal.

i'm gonna use your post as a little life update anyway, because i really do miss tumblr and think i may return to duffmckagans because i've sort of outgrown my need for this blog. i'm very much still writing original content (or, try to, whenever i'm not busy (rare)), but i've sort of left behind the need to share that with other people, mostly just because 1.) nobody cares (real), 2.) it's so slow-moving these days that it just left me with the feeling like i had nothing to do on this blog because i've pretty much completely buried to rest the idea of ever rewriting that fic in an original format and settled another, more personal novel/project i have much more faith in the future publishing of. and because it is so personal and niche and boring, it just doesn't generate discussion or anything else worth posting about at the moment.

however, i do miss having a blog. i miss talking to people, i miss seeing my friends, i miss posting my writing, i miss reblogging silly pictures with silly tags, etc. i'm honestly at my busiest point in my entire life right now because i decided over the summer that i wanted to go to law school so i've been slammed between studying for that, taking the LSAT (law school entrance exam) twice and having a third attempt scheduled for january, tutoring, working almost full-time, some volunteer work, general family chaos (permanent fixture), etc. and if anybody remembers me from my college days, you may remember i was an anomaly in that i had a supremely unusual amount of free time. enough so that i could routinely churn out anywhere from 10k-15k of new words a week. was it good? no, not really, but that's besides the point. i'm not somebody built to do so much at once, so that ever-present stress (which should clear up around late january - ignoring what may come from law school) has sort of pushed me away from all the things i used to love #HAHA!!! for a long time. pretty much everybody i know can attest to the fact i've become a shit replier, i don't even see messages for days and then i forget to reply once i do. it's very annoying and inconveniencing, and i apologize! i can't promise it'll get better quite yet, but that's a bit of explanation there. i used to be somebody who'd be around almost 24/7 and i will get back to that eventually, but ... not yet.

that being said, i've experienced other Life Things that sort of has me crawling back to things that make me happy, if only so i don't become hopelessly lost in responsibilities and pressure and stress. ironically enough, it was sharing my original manuscript with my mother of all people (adding on to if anybody knows the first thing about me or remembers when my life blew up 2 years ago) and getting to bond with her over that after pretty much being no contact for 2 years that had me remembering how important writing is for me, but not even necessarily for my own personal gain. financially, i mean. of course, publishing is a life goal, and everybody told me to pursue law so that i could eventually fund my own writing career (ngl this is what got me), but i loved sharing it. i deleted the fic a little over a year ago as of now, i think? and i feel like i've been floundering not necessarily without It, but without having something to do every week, people to talk to, reactions to read; just generally something to keep me tied to some vague sense of passing time. there was a time in my life where it was either wednesday or it wasn't x6, and some people may say that's a crazy way to live, but it got me through my awful college years with success and a smile on my face, so idrgaf. i do actually really miss the fic. i miss the whole universe, i miss the community (undoubtedly smaller, understandably), and i miss the ease it used to bring because i was just genuinely doing what i loved.

i can't even remember what i said in my other ask reply that addressed this fic, something in response to "fuck that ginger cunt," but i will say that i have revisited the fic. i have a very, very, very complicated relationship with guns n' roses as an entity and, moreover, axl and his entire existence. for obvious reasons. he fucking sucks. legitimately one of the most awful excuses of a man i've ever met (or...been waved to by?) and likely should be buried beneath a jail somewhere. i will happily wield the shovel!! that being said. actually, that's all i have to say on it. everything else is a gray area where they still stand as a band that has gotten me through every day of my life since i was 17 and where axl still stands as so much for me, principally the reason i started writing and still do to this day because nothing else can top that thrill. the fic, honestly speaking, isn't even about the band for me. i could not care less about the band, i don't think i could host a fan page if i tried, beyond reblogging pics and giving my music opinions (while we're on the topic: 1986 sound city sessions reckless life is far superior to the gnr lies version), but i really don't even remember a time where the fic was even about the band rather than some place for me to sketch out a story with roughly-drawn templates of members from my favorite band. i don't think it existed as a band fic since the first half of rocket queen, and i think people could see by the story's direction that it wasn't really about "oooo guns and roses, the most dangerous band in the Wooooorld" so much as it was my two female main characters and the matching set of He's There that were sometimes involved in the adventures. i still have that passion for all of them, i have rewritten the first 23 chapters of rocket queen and that will continue to go up whenever i find a scrap of free time because nothing relaxes me like writing or just gets me to generally calm down and forget the fact i haven't felt at peace in so long 😄

so there is a major question of if i could post it again. and i still don't know. it's tricky. there's a lot of material in there that i don't think people took the time to understand, even worse now that i approach it from a MUCH more mature standpoint (in retrospect, i had no business writing so many of those things at 18, i had no clue what i was talking about or even implying with some of those themes and scenes), and there's a lot of stuff based on or semi-based on real events (trauma) while other real information (how much of a literal threat to humanity these men, particularly axl (but i will never discount any of them) were) is excluded because . . . i don't like torturing women? i could potentially return just as a way to give myself something to do under the guise where i do it with a lot more anonymity, aka not giving people as much of a direct target to verbally/electronically abuse me over fake things, tightening how i respond to things or let people think they have a say in things, and just outright refusing to engage with other matters; let it speak for itself and be ready to pull it again the second people take it too far or clearly can't handle with maturity and respect something that's marked mature, plastered in content warnings, and thoroughly tagged/addressed at every twist and turn, because at the end of the day--because i was barely a concept when all of these events were happening--it's all fictional. "based on" anything or not, it's fake. i have nothing but secondhand, thirdhand, or no-hand information abound. everybody lies, everybody forgets things, and everybody remembers it differently, and that's just that. i always will have creative license to do whatever the fuck i want regardless of what some 'insert member' stan with their panties in a twist thinks. it said so much to me that nobody ever criticized me for writing about a deeply problematic band and just about the fact that i had women characters that made vaguely unlikable decisions.

so, i don't know. i have things to think about. i am vaguely aware of the fact i may be depressed, so i would like to have a reason to smile again while i trudge from day to day doing boring things. i am also aware of the fact that i can't just write this fic and not share it with people. i have loose lips in written form and i really don't know what else to do with it. only so much gratification comes from looking at it myself. i ALSO know i said i was going to leave this behind forever, and also that i probably should, but i am a: liar. i fucking love guns n' roses.

thanks for listening to my ramble. completely understandable if you never send me an ask again. much love 💗

[jiabeewrites]

The Devil Doesn't Settle (1/?)

(aesthetic by @aesthetics-and-fuckery, yeah, that's me. do NOT steal this!)

Harry Potter/Wizarding World x DC

Pairing: Klarion Bleak x Fem!Reader, Lilith Bleak (OC) x Fem!Reader

CW: romance, past breakups, use of she/her, language, shitty attempt at angst, author attempted to not use y/n and i think i succeeded but who knows, klarion & lilith are being lil bitches who doesn't know how to romance, playing with feelings, wizarding relations are really weird, toxic relationships probably, pining, i think that's it but if there's more tell me!

Summary: Reader is an exchange student. She's a witch, but not the kind that hogwarts is used to. She uses pentagrams and incantations instead of wands and spells. She uses poisons and candles rather than potions and charms. She practices moonlit summonings instead of defense against the dark arts. So what happens when not one, but two lords of chaos appear in the middle of the great hall, both claiming to be her lover? (this is part one of a multi-part series, so look out for a pt 2!)

SONG: Devil Doesn't Bargain by Alec Benjamin

A/N: The formatting refused to work ;-; I'm sorry if I offended anyone! I just tried to portray traditional-ish(?) witchcraft in the way that I've kinda seen it portrayed in fiction. Please don't take this seriously, this is a work of fiction and isn't meant to portray witchcraft seriously.

HOW TO READ: Each set of lyrics is kinda like a divider! each section of words/blurb between the lyrics are their own moment, and this particular piece has multiple little moments. Definitely timeskips. You can find more stories like this one by looking under the tag #ryn writes songfics

<Prev ~ Next >

It's useless, don't do this It's hubris to try He's ruthless, you knew this I told you, didn't I?

"Godrick, why is she even here?"

"I heard they let her in only because she threatened them."

"Her snake is so creepy!"

The whispers shrouded her like the mists of her home. But instead of bringing her comfort, these were laced with poison, bringing her pain.

They practiced magic, same as her, so what was the problem?

Her familiar, Noodle, curled tighter around her shoulders, seeking comfort. He didn't like it here, either.

"I know, guksu, I know."

"Why are you talking to your snake?"

A ginger-haired boy with a trillion freckles was staring at her.

"His name is Noodle. Guksu means noodles," she said, frowning. "I just call him that sometimes to calm him down."

"Weird." One of his friends, a girl with bushy brown hair, smacked him.

"Ron! Be nice," she scolded. He just raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Isn't she the one who summons demons?"

Ron. So that was his name.

She tucked that away for future reference.

He's abusive, elusive The truth is, he lies I know you don't want to let go

The caws of ravens and the croaks of bullfrogs echoed throughout the classroom.

"Silencio! SILENCIO!" That boy from earlier, Ron, was trying to silence his raven to no avail.

"It’s the way you’re moving your wand,” the girl next to him said, watching Ron critically. "You don’t want to wave it, it’s more a sharp jab."

"Ravens are harder than frogs," he said, frowning.

"Fine, let’s swap," she retorted, seizing Ron’s raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. "Silencio!" The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.

"Very good, Miss Granger!" said Professor Flitwick’s squeaky little voice. The trio jumped in their seats. "Now, let me see you try, Mr. Weasley!"

"Wha — ? Oh — oh, right,” said Ron, very flustered. "Er — Silencio!" He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard that he poked it in the eye; the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk.

"Hmm..." That was when Flitwick noticed her.

"Miss? Why don't you give it a go?" Startled, she flinched but nodded. She pulled out a vial of white powder from her bag, sprinkled some of it on the bird, who squawked indignantly, and began chanting.

"Tace, tace, sile. Tace, tace, sile."

The raven's caws became fainter and fainter with every round of chanting, and soon, the bird became completely silent.

She looked up at the professor and the trio, who looked at her with facination and horror, respectively.

Right when she was leaving the class, she could have sworn that she heard Ron say: "That girl is mental, I swear!"

He shut up when Noodle hissed at him.

And just like before I can see that you're sure You can change him but I know you won't

She lurked at the back of the class, trying to see what all the commotion was about.

"an’ here’s another couple, look —"

Two black, skeletal horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to dark-skinned girl, who shivered and pressed herself closer to a tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it’s near me!"

"Don’ worry, it won’ hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ’, now, who can tell me why some o’ you can see them an’ some can’t?"

The girl from earlier raised her hand to answer.

"The only people who can see thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha’s exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, "ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thestrals —"

He was interrupted by a soft "hem, hem."

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was wearing a green hat and cloak with her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge’s fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

"Hem, hem."

"Oh hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" she asked. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh yeah," said Hagrid brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ’! Well, as you can see — or, I dunno — can you? We’re doin’ thestrals today —"

"I’m sorry?" said Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"

Hagrid looked a little confused.

"Er — thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big — er — winged horses, yeh know!" He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard, "has . . . to . . . resort . . . to . . . crude . . . sign . . . language . . ."

She began walking among the students, asking questions about Hagrid and making rude comments about him.

Noodle hissed at her, and she had to put her hand on him to rein him in.

"I don't like that bitch."

"Well, neither do I, but what do you want me to do, poison her?" She muttered.

"Yessss."

She rolled her eyes and looked up, only to see Umbridge staring back at her.

"Why are you talking to your pet instead of paying attention to the lesson? And why is your pet out in the first place?" The toad-like woman asked with fake honey dripping from her voice.

"He's not my pet, he's my familiar. And death isn't exactly my favorite subject," she retorted. All eyes were on them now.

"Pet or...otherwise, I don't think that the ministry would approve of a student having access to their pet at all times," Umbridge remarked, making a note on her clipboard.

"Well lucky for you, I'm not a european citizen. So I don't think your ministry has to worry about me. And Noodle's my familiar. Not. My. Pet," she ground out.

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Umbridge said waspishly, and tried to take the snake away from her. She was met with a hiss and Noodle's fangs.

"Detention, and if I see your snake again I will not hesitate to have a talk with your head of house." Her nostrils flared, and she backed away and headed towards the castle, probably to tell the minister to make another Educational Decree.

"His name is Noodle!" She yelled at the retreating woman, smirking victoriously. Noodle just nuzzled up to his human's face.

The devil doesn't bargain He'll only break your heart again It isn't worth it, darling He's never gonna change

The Great Hall was buzzing with conversation and laughter. It was Halloween, and the Gryffindor house had basically adopted her ever since her little scuffle with Umbridge.

"So your sna-Noodle is bound to you?" Hermion asked. The so-called Golden Trio had taken a liking to her since she didn't seem to like Umbridge either.

"Yeah," she replied. "Noodle is...well, he protects me and I protect him. It's kinda complicated, and I don't 100% understand myself. But he's my best friend." At this, Noodle squeezed her shoulders affectionately and snuck a bit of food off her fork.

"Interesting...does he enhance your powers in any way?"

"Uh...we didn't really try that. But my-er, a friend of mine has a familiar and she keeps him attached to the mortal plane."

Just then, a bright red portal appeared in midair. Two figures were flung out of it, and they seemed to be arguing. In the middle of the hall. Suspended in the air.

She seemed to recognize them, and groaned when she did.

"Klarion and Lilith Bleak get your asses down here right now!"

The two stopped arguing and grinned. With a pop they appeared in front of her, smiling like kids in a candy shop. One had a lovesick expression, the other had a flirtatious smirk.

"Hello, love."

He'll never be Prince Charming He'll only do you harm again I don't mean to meddle But the devil doesn't settle

No, the devil doesn't bargain

(part 1/?)