#pastry loves science

[croissantlover24]

New favorite rock: Phantom Amethyst <3

[croissantlover24]

Red Fox Agate is one of my favorite agate specimens. It feels so surreal to look at. They’re UV reactive, too; take a look at one under a black light :D

It’s a shame they’re so rare and expensive, though. I’d fill my entire house with these if I had the money.

jesus christ god in heaven oh my god you seeing this????????

It's Red Fox Agate, juses chorist my gog wow

holy fuck that is gorgeous, it's red because iron oxide, it's bubbly because gas bubbles that happened when lava was cooling, holy fuck, and then the gases are destroyed and it leaves holes, then some liquid with lots of silica in it deposits quartz and chalcedony inside tge holes

it'a like mid on the hardness scale, denser than water, trigonal crystal system, no cleavage, also it's gorgeous and beautiful and I'm getting married to this agate the marriage is today, right now, you're all invited

[dolliels]

YOUR SHOUJO BOYFRIEND!

synopsis: you and the third years in a shoujo manga setting. how will the story proceed?

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS IS A REUPLOAD!!! i posted this fic on my old account which i deleted. so uh yeah. also you are technically y/n but a different y/n in every story ok bye

trey clover [captain of the baseball team!]

drum roll please… presenting trey clover!!! the beloved captain of your high school’s baseball team!!! have you seen him? he’s so kind, and thoughtful… he’s really handsome and tall… lord… have you seen him in his baseball uniform?? his broad shoulders under the gentle light… all the girls are giggling about it!

you’ve also often found yourself following the smell of delicious baked goods… only to find the infamous trey clover handing pastries out to his entire team!! he can cook too?! you drool at the thought of tasting his already amazing-smelling food.

unfortunately, you and him are on different social levels. have you seen him? he’s constantly surrounded by people! the thought of even trying his food is out the window… nevertheless talking to him. you’re more quieter, with a solid, but small group of friends.

that doesn’t mean you or your friends aren’t a fan of him! every time there’s a baseball practice going on afterschool, the bleachers are filled with students alike, wanting to watch their favourite caption (+ the other members, ace and deuce are pretty popular too!) it’s often full of people so you haven’t gotten the chance to fully watch a practice game yet… not until a freezing winter afternoon.

there you were, at the front of the bleachers, with the best view you’ve gotten of any game so far! although cold and shivering, it’s fun to sit with you friends and watch them practice! although your eyes often stray to trey, it’s not like you’re not watching the other members of the team! you’ve talked to deuce before, he’s pretty nice! you wave at him sheepishly while rubbing your shoulders, trying to keep yourself warm.

trey clover is really nice as the rumours say. he’s been watching you the entire time, seeing you shivering, with rosy cheeks and a flushed expression, giggling and laughing with your friends. you’re like a lost puppy! something tugged at his heart in worry, you’re obviously cold.

during break, the other girls watched in envy as trey himself comes up to you and offers you his own scarf! wow! you and your friends silently cheer at the offer. trey couldn’t help but smile. how could the oh-so lovely trey clover not? he loves taking care of his classmates! whether they’re friends or not.

he waves it off, saying you can return it to him tomorrow. you smile at him, and clutch onto the scarf in gratefulness. trey is really a great guy! perhaps you have a chance at becoming friends with him…?

the next day, you bravely march towards trey, only to immediately turn back after seeing him surrounded by a bunch of people. uh oh. maybe you’d return the scarf to him another time. there’s too many people and you were afraid that you’ll get overwhelmed from the staring eyes.

the same thing happened the day after. then the day after that. this goes on for a month or so, until you and him get partnered for a project.

trey was confused the entire time. he’s seen you approach him and then promptly walk away. he though it was cute, but he didn’t understand why you couldn’t just give it to him.

you explained how you got nervous, seeing him surrounded by so many people, and finally gave him the scarf back on a quiet afternoon at the library, mid-science project. he chuckled and heartily accepted this. hence you made a new friend!

trey never seemed to be aware that he’s often surrounded by many people at almost all times. now that you (lowkey) knocked him into reality, he often found himself suddenly alone. trey liked his friends, as well as his alone time. but maybe he was too alone at the moment because he slowly seemed to be attaching himself to you. you were so much more comfortable, definitely less overwhelming compared to being surrounded by so much people. he’s starting to enjoy your company now.

you, however, seemed to be confused as to why he’s suddenly following you. it’s trey clover we’re talking about! the school’s prince charming…!!!

when you asked him, he simply said it was a nice change of pace. what does that even mean??? does he perhaps…? no!! there’s no way!!! you shake your head, panic-stricken. stop being delusional!!!

one crisp morning, trey found you with bandages all over your fingers. are you okay??? what happened??? did you get in a fight??? did you study too hard???

you shake your head, flustered. “it’s not a big deal” you say, smiling. “just some accidents in the kitchen. it’s well taken care of.”

trey sighs. maybe he should start helping you in the kitchen… I mean, he considers himself a pretty decent cook… and he hasn’t baked a sweet treat for you yet!

a while later, as trey started getting gifts from all kinds of people did he start connecting the dots. that’s right… today’s valentine’s day! you probably injured yourself trying to making something for the guy you wanted to confess to. he chuckled. you should’ve just asked him and he would’ve helped you no problem! maybe you just felt shy to ask because he was also a guy…

he tried looking for you, wanting to ask about who this special someone is, only to find you to be nowhere. huh. that’s odd. you were at school this morning… right?!

confused, dazed and guilty about rejecting all those girls today, he opened to his shoe locker to find a cute bag with a bow on it fall to the ground.

he only receives outright confession, never quiet, secret ones like this. this is almost like…

his eyes widen and his ears flush red as he reads your confession letter. oh. he thinks. oh dear.

taking a bite out of your heart shaped cookie, he feels a cavity already forming. it’s too sweet! but no matter, he’ll throughly brush his teeth when he gets home… the only thing on his mind walking home is finishing your (kinda failure?) baked goods and wondering how he should tell you he feels the same way… maybe baking you something too?

cater diamond [social media pretty boy]

selfie, after selfie, after selfie… you mindlessly scroll on cater diamond’s magicam. he’s so photogenic it’s insane. the light always seems to hit the right angle, his eyes are gleaming and childlike… he’s smiling… so handsome.

your finger has hovered over the ‘message’ button on his profile many times, but you sigh to yourself. he probably gets hundreds of dms a day. you’re probably just another number to his follower count. also, hitting someone up online? that’s super unromantic.

you’ve seen cater at school a bunch of times. he’s always taking pictures or flirting with some girl who’s ten times more prettier than you. you have no chance at all! the local celebrity has no time for the likes of you!!!

he’s fun, he’s loud, he’s eccentric… he’s so interesting! you would love to get to know this side of him. little did you know…

you were shuffling through books in the school library during lunch. you forgot to do an assignment and had to hurry before your next class… only to find cater diamond, slumped in a corner, asleep!

it just so happens that the book you wanted was right beside him. as you try to slowly pull the book out, he wakes up. oh no.

he stares at you, wide eyed, before dazing out and leaning his head back. you slowly sat beside him and flipped through the pages, eating your lunch and finishing up your assignment. it was well needed peace and quiet for cater.

that night, you opened your phone to find a pleasant surprise.

cater diamond started following you.

you’ve find to notice a pattern. during lunch, cater could always be at the library, slumped and dazed. no one comes here during lunchtime, except for students who could care less about the mini-celebrity cater diamond. you always assumed he went out to buy food with his friends during lunchtime. guess not.

every now and then, you say beside him silently, eating your lunch and scrolling on your phone. sometimes, he’d strike up a conversation about the latest student gossip, or an assignment he didn’t quite fully understand. but most of the time, it was just comfortable silence.

those ‘every now and then’ turned to everyday. you’d rarely hang outside of lunchtime, due to both of you being caught up in your own social lives, but it was nice nonetheless.

“isn’t it weird?” cater asks one day.

you lift your head up from your phone. “weird what?”

“you’ve see. my social media posts. isn’t it weird that I’m so antisocial here? we rarely even talk.”

you shrug. “I don’t mind. I think you’re great either way.”

cater turned his head towards you. “really? you think I’m great?”

“I’d love to know the fun, wild cater, but I also love the quiet, peaceful cater too.”

“you love it?”

“I love it.”

“well… I love you.”

leona kingscholar [politician’s son]

you couldn’t understand how you could hate someone so much without knowing them all that well, but you did.

leona kingscholar, the snobby rich kid.

you’ve seen his name when grades are posted. and it’s at the very bottom. he sleeps in class (plus, he sits right next to you! how annoying, he snores.) and is rude to almost everybody.

to your horror, he has fans.

you’ve seen parades of girls chase after him during valentines, love letters pile up in his desk, people asking you to send him love confessions on behalf of them. of course, you’re too kind to say no, and deliver the message anyway, only to be rudely scoffed at when you tell them that leona brushed it off.

you, however, manage to keep an outstanding vibe to yourself. you manage to keep good grades, be nice to everyone, have interesting hobbies and talents… you’re a pretty all-round person (as you say)

because of your good impression and responsibility you’ve shown and given to your teachers did they ask you to do some extra credit stuff. to your pleasure, you agreed. except you dropped your books when you found out that the extra credit thing is tutoring leona kingscholar.

“I’m so glad that you’re able to do this. I’m very worried about dear leona, especially considering his home life. I hope you can take good care of him.”

you smile meekly. of course teacher! what couldn’t you do? the easy going, impressionable student!

your ears did pique interested when your teacher mentioned his home life… but what’s that to you anyway? you lost interest quickly.

the clock was ticking and the workbooks between you and leona was pristine and untouched. the desk that separated you two was the only thing that seemed to prevent you from mauling him on the spot.

his hair looked well-kept and clean. his clothes neat and tidy, his bone structure… you shook your head. well, obviously he is handsome. how else does he have all those girls tailing him despite his hideous personality? you friends were excited to see how this ‘date’ (you rolled your eyes) would go. I mean, it is leona kingscholar after all.

although you call him the snobby rich kid, was is the president’s son. or well, used to be. his father stepped down from presidency and leona’s brother, falena, recently won the election from charisma alone.

when you watched him on tv, you scoffed. the kingscholar handsome genes seemed to be going strong, that’s probably what helped falena earn his spot because he is in no way a good politician. falena’s promises hasn’t been met yet, his main concerns benefited the rich (classic classism— no pun intended) and he laughed heartily at almost anything. It made him look pathetic.

as you eyed leona dozing off, you laughed to yourself. at least he’s not president, you thought.

you flicked his forehead. you watched leona flinch and frown. he had this boyish charm to him that made you wanna laugh at everything he does. you chuckled when he glared at you.

“what?” he hissed. meow.

“what do you want to start off with?” you spun the pencil in between your fingers.

leona rubbed his forehead and shuffled through his books and pulled out a math book. “yeah. this one.”

“how much do you want?” leona asked.

“what?”

“money. for you to do the work for me.”

“I don’t want money. I want honest work.”

“everyone wants money.”

“put your wallet away.”

leona stated at you, dumbstruck, and put his wallet away as you instructed.

“ugh snobby rich kids and their money.” you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

“herbivore.”

what kind of insult is that?!

days went by like this. arguing, no work done, leaving frustrated. you still refused to accept money. that would put weight on your conscience. you simply couldn’t.

one day, you started stuffing your face with your lunch that you didn’t have time to eat during school.

leona eyed your food. “lunch? after school? it’s almost 4pm.”

“augh. I know. I don’t feel like eating that much but that means I have to have this again for lunch tomorrow.”

leona took your lunch box and started picking food out and throwing it into his mouth.

“hey!”

“what? you said you don’t feel like eating.”

you calmed back down and watched him eat. “are you sure you’re okay with eating that? I don’t wanna displease mr. money’s food palatte.”

leona shrugged. “I don’t eat much at home.”

oh?

“why?” you asked

“dad’s busy with our dear president. their politic discussion is so annoying. I don’t feel like eating with them.”

you scoffed. “politics? are you sure? whatever I’m hearing from falena sounds like a bunch of bullcrap and rich-guy charisma.”

you hadn’t had the chance to realize what you had said when leona let out a laugh. “I know, right? sick of shit presidents. my dad won’t even listen to me.”

“‘oh your brother’s older, he knows better’” leona said in a mocking tone. “I dunno why he’s always on the birthing order crap.” leona handed you back your empty lunchbox. “you’re not a bad cook.”

you stared at him. you’ve never seen him talk this much in one go. leona seemed to have noticed it himself and coughed.

the next few days went by, a bit more awkward than usual. it was mostly you and him in silence. the arguing seemed to have died down.

since you couldn’t get him to do any work, you decided to catch up on your own.

to your pleasant surprise, leona was helping you! whenever he saw you were stuck on a math question, or a science formula, or any of the sort, he’d watch and explain it to you. you swore he has the lowest grades in the school. how does he know more than you?

leona shrugged. “I can do things if I put my mind to it.”

you slammed your hand on your desk. smiling in thought. as of late, you and leona started getting along better. his smarts made you grow some sort of respect for him.

“if you at least pass all your exams this term, I’ll do anything you ask.”

leona raised an eyebrow. “what?”

“well, you can do all of this right? all you need is a motivator.” you smiled. “we’ve been bantering back and forth this entire time. don’t you want me to stop calling you spoiled? please agree to to this. I really, really want this credit.”

leona pretended to be in thought before nodding. “yeah whatever.”

inner hooray!

weeks went by. leona seemed to have actually started doing his work, handing in assignments, raising his grade…

until he carefully placed multiple tests in front of you with a bright red 100 on the top of each and every one.

“I told you I could do it if I put my mind to it.”

you patted yourself. “I finally trained the animal.”

he ruffled your hair.

the next day, you were getting ready for another afterschool session with leona when your teacher came up to you.

“leona’s grades has been doing so well. I’m glad you were able to put him on track. I added the extra credit on your record. you deserve a break, you can stop tutoring him now.”

oh… right. all of this had to come to a stop eventually.

you went home earlier that day, and suddenly found yourself with so much more free time.

the next few days went by, with no leona in sight. the distaste you usually had for him seemed to wither away… you kind of considered each other as friends. would it be too mushy to say you missed him?

one warm afternoon, at the end of school, you were heading to grab your shoes and leave when a familiar voice called out your name.

leona.

“oh… hi!” you smiled at him. you really, truly didn’t hate him anymore. all of that seemed to be so far ago.

leona spoke in a gruff. “hey… so….”

you knew leona was handsome, no doubt about it. but was he always this oddly attractive? his eyebrows were dark and moody, his eyes (they’re green! you never noticed) glimmered under the sunshine spilling from the windows. he looked to the side, shuffling awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. leona is a confident man. you never saw him so tensed up before.

“you said… if I pass this term you’ll do you anything you want from me, right?”

oh, right. you kinda wished he forgot about that. guess not. better prepare yourself to be his servant, or something. (for some reason, you didn’t seem to mind)

“yeah… I did say that. so. what do you want?”

“I want you to go out with me.”

rook hunt [the competitive dramatics]

is this possible to dislike someone who doesn’t even know you exist?

rook hunt, the king of drama, would be seen whistling tunes from the latest musical he watched, looking over play scripts and performing random acts in the middle of the school hallway. get out! he’s so annoying.

what’s worse is that although he seems to be carefree and going with the flow, he always seems to be topping you at everything. got a 99 on a quiz? would you look at that, rook got a 100. learning a new language? rook speaks french! auditioning for lead role? rook already got the spot!

even hearing his name makes you fume in the ears. rook hunt is overall well-liked, he probably isn’t even aware of your secret competition with him.

finally… finally!!! you look up at the cast of your school’s new upcoming play. you got the lead! and… rook got the second lead…

he’s playing romeo… in romeo and juliet… and you’re… juliet… oh!

you roll your fists. it’s fine. it’s fine. it’s fine. you’ll manage. you worked hard for this. you’ll manage.

first day of practice, rook prances in speaking french. romeo and juliet takes place in italy you idiot!

“bonjour, roi de la jalousie!”

you roll your eyes, showing your displeasure. “hello, rook.”

the first few playthroughs went as perfect as it could be. most of romeo and juliet is just romeo losing his mind over a 14 year old girl, so it wasn’t like you and him had to be intimate. yet.

“okay. in act 2, romeo and juliet kiss at the party. preferably, I’d prefer to re-enact a real kiss. but if you guys are uncomfortable, we could—”

“oh, non! I could not! to make a play so touching and real, it is important that we kiss! but if our dear roi de la jalouise is uncomfortable…”

not wanting to back down against rook you shake your head. “no, no! that’s fine! we can kiss!”

you left that day mortified. you didn’t even have your first kiss yet. what is wrong with you?!

the day came to rehearse the kiss. you chugged your bottle of water and marched on stage.

you said your lines carefully, avoiding eye contact with him. the rival you made up in your delusions, a little rook with devil horns and a tail, was somehow (in reality) much taller, prettier and kind of intimidating to look at now. you felt awfully shy.

as his face leaned against yours, he only looked at you gleefully once you finally made eye contact. both of your lips were close, but he didn’t kiss you. huh?

once it was break time, you sat down at the edge of the stage dumbfounded. everyone else left backstage for pizza, so it was just you in an echoey theatre.

that was until rook came in and sat beside you, holding two paper plates of pizza. he handed one to you.

“you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” rook said, smiling. he was unusually calm.

“n-no! I want to!” you replied too hastily. you truly didn’t seem to hate him at this moment. you only felt flustered.

“I know you are competitive. especially with me. even though your fierceness is truly beautiful, I do not advise you to do something you are not comfortable with.”

oh. you look at him. “you noticed? haha….” suddenly, all that competitive spirit you had felt childish.

“well of course! It’s what drew me to you. it’s especially why I auditioned for romeo, even though i was more interested in mercutio.”

you felt yourself turning red. he auditioned for romeo for you? just for you?

“well… i already told the director I’m okay with the kiss… it’s a little too embarrassing to take it back now.”

“well… perhaps if we practiced together, you’d feel more comfortable, mon amour?”

you laugh. “you keep calling me french names. what does this one mean?

rook gently kissed the space between your eyebrows. “my love.”

(ps: roi de la jalouise means king of jealousy!)

vil schoenheit [international star]

vil schoenheit is a celebrity. a big, all-time, internet sensation kind of celebrity.

a model, an actor, an influencer… he’s everything!

he’s gorgeous, lovely, not like those other celebrities who are horrible in real like and kind only on the internet.

you feel blessed to know that someone as famous as him is going to the same school as you.

vil is popular, undeniably so. everywhere you go, you see him greeting people of all kinds, receiving gifts and panicking after making a girl faint from his magnificence alone.

oddly though, he’s often by himself. like he has no friends. you tilt your head in confusion. someone like him must have hundreds of friends, right? maybe he considers the entire student body as his friends! does that mean you’re his friend too?

you pinched your cheeks. there’s no way someone like him would notice you! no matter how generous he is, you understood it’s difficult to get alone with everyone.

on one fateful morning, you ran into your classroom to grab your forgotten gym clothes when you pause right before opening the door, hearing frustrated mumbling.

“these stupid fans and their stupid demands”

you peered in through the door window and saw vil schoenheit retouching his makeup, frowning.

there was an awful churn in your stomach. for some reason, you felt like you shouldn’t enter the classroom. but between making it to phys ed in time and have a good first impression on a big-time celebrity, you chose to enter the classroom. it’s not a big deal anyway, it’s not like you and him even talk all that much.

you opened the door to see vil turn his head, almost like an owl as you quickly crab walked to your desk and grabbed your clothes before running off.

like expected, you didn’t see vil at all after that event. although he didn’t seem as lovely as you expected, it didn’t really turn your view of him upside down either. you’re weren’t a big fan of him anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal at all.

until one day, he cornered you.

“did you tell anyone?”

“tell what?”

“what you saw.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “it was one slip up. it’s not a big deal.”

vil glared at you. obviously, you didn’t understand the severity of the situation. if he, vil, a high-end celebrity, screwed even the slightest, it would massively deter his career.

“okay, fine. but I don’t want you to tell anyone about this going forward. if you want an autograph or something, I’ll do it but—”

you shook your hands. “It’s fine. you don’t have to.”

vil raised his eyebrow. you don’t want anything from him? you’re not blackmailing him? everyone always wants something out of him. but he shouldn’t push things further.

he sighed. “alright. but give me your contact information. I’d rather keep track of you instead of worrying.”

your eyes glistened at the bright new vil schoenheit in your contacts.

it was just like that. you had an untouched number on your phone. having someone so famous like him giving his number seemed enough. since there was no other reason for you guys to talk, you guys barely interacted after that (although you’ve felt like a pair of eyes was watching you more often than not)

you didn't expect to run into vil again, so it was a surprise to see vil working in an empty classroom afterschool.

"stupid sports festival..." vil mumbled to himself before his eyes locked with yours.

his eyes were an enchanting colour. something tugged at your heart when you saw a close glimpse of his eyes. lavender. sharp, pristine eyes, long lashes... vil had a sort of maturity to him.

feeling yourself turning red, you blinked a few times before greeting him.

apparently, the ever-so-kindhearted vil has volunteered to work on the upcoming sports festival's banner. no one else wanted to spend their free time doing it, and vil freely told you that he felt pressured about his image because he wasn't saying anything. reluctantly he offered and now here he was.

your tilted your head. vil was just simply expressing what he truly felt about something to you. what happened to the hesitant, suspicious vil that you met all those months ago? does he trust you or something? but you guys barely even talk properly!

unfortunately for vil, you had offered to work on the banner weeks ago. however, only a few of the sports festival committee knew. the rest did not, including vil. (you weren't even aware vil was apart of it)

"well an extra hand couldn't be bad!" you say happily, clasping your hands. "would you consider your a creative person?"

a few weeks went by, planning, discussing ideas and purchasing materials. (you mostly go alone because you had to learn the hard way that vil gets recognized quite easily, even with a tight disguise)

soon, you and vil slowly started going home together. vil lives close by, saying it's better than riding some fancy car and attracting even more attention. your school's neighbourhood was quite rich so when you first passed his house, your jaw dropped. wow! it's so big!

eventually, the banner making, the sports festival planning and discussing came to an end. your impression of vil made you assume that both you and him would be going on your own paths.

"where are you going?" vil said, as you were already walking out the door.

"...home?"

"I thought we went together?"

maybe you were wrong!

everyone used to whisper about vil schoenheit. the kindhearted, friendly student at school. the mega-huge celebrity, the popular boy who always kept a distance with others.

now, everyone whispers about vil schoenheit, the kindhearted, friendly student at school. the mega-huge celebrity, the popular boy and his best friend, you. attached at the hip. are they dating?

you're surprised at vil's ability to keep you hidden from paparazzi. he was worried that rumours would rise, especially since he started inviting you over to his place. everytime pictures of him would surface the internet, you were never mentioned... luckily.

you sat down in front of him, eyes closed. vil has been getting loads of skincare PR as of late, and he's been trying the products on you, worried it would break him out. he had a shoot coming up soon.

"I haven't read my script yet and I have to leave the city in a week. could you believe the amount of procrastination I've been doing?" vil scoffs at himself.

"you didn't tell me you're leaving."

"don't worry. it's for only two weeks. I'd be back in a blink of an eye."

you huffed. "I'm gonna miss you, vil."

vil's ears flushed. but your eyes were shut closed.

"I'm gonna miss you too, I guess."

vil was wrong. after he left, time seemed to have gone slower. you were so used to spending so much of your time with him, you felt like you forgot how to hang out with other people.

you bought sweet treats with your friends, went to photobooths and stressed out about assignments and tests, but vil was at the back of your mind at all time.

"I'm coming to the airport tomorrow." vil said over the phone.

"I'll come and see you!"

"don't. too many people are gonna be there."

vil smiled at the other end of the call. he knew you'd do it anyway.

...and he was right! there you were, waiting in a crowd of a bunch of people. you were worried that he wouldn't see you.

it was fine. you knew how worked up he got about his personal and work life mixing. maybe it wasn't a good idea to see your best friend in a field of paparazzi.

well, it was too late. cameras started flashing and people started screaming a familiar name.

you tried to squeeze to the front of the crowd as best as you could, but to a point you had to stop and depend on your toes and only hope he could see you.

as a blonde boy with a mask on entered the scene, you saw him turn his head around, looking for something, until his eyes met yours.

you've always thought those eyes had a mature, elegant feel. but for some reason, this time, his eyes felt full and boyish, emotional.

you popped out from the back to see that vil has already found you, giving you a tight hug.

"vil! vil! there's paparazzi here!'

your face was squished against his chest, but you could still see and feel the pictures flashing.

"aren't you worried about, you know, those rumours surfacing?"

vil shook his head, smiling. "no, not really. not when I want them to be true."

idia shroud [gamers can actually look good?!]

you: HIII can u plz carry me in val im dying uwu

gloomurai: alright what the flip.

you: be my pocket sage kitten

gloomurai: ok fine wait for me

you stare at the chatroom between you and your online friend, gloomurai. you've been talking to the guy for a while now, and he seems to be overpowered in every game, carrying you in all your favourites nonstop. does this guy even have a life? you laugh, as you stretch your back.

it was winter break, and your house's heater was broken. while it was getting fixed, you've been spending your days in your favourite gaming cafe, in the warm heat of the pc and the warm computer screen.

you: bro im in this gaming cafe and this guy beside me wont stop mumbling i think im going insane

gloomurai: lmao im in a gaming cafe too

you: what??? rlly?? omg which one r u at

gloomurai: ignihyde cafe lols

you: WTF ME TOO???

gloomurai: HUH

you: WHICH SECTION R U IN

gloomurai: im in section 3A

you: OH MY GOD

gloomurai: what??

you: IM IN 4A

you slowly turn you head to the guy who was mumbling beside you the entire time, him doing the same. you peeked your eyes to his computer screen to have your chatroom open.

is that... your classmate... idia shroud????

you've heard about the guy. he's shy, gloomy (no pun intended) and quite repulsive to approach. of course, you've heard a number of girls talking about how hot and tall he is, how much they loveeeee loser boys.

but his attractiveness was not what caught your attention. your online friend for over a year was your CLASSMATE??? a guy you barely even talked to??? hello?? is anybody hearing this???

you suddenly felt silly for calling him your pocket sage.

that night, your phone was open to his chatroom. idia immediately stood up and left the moment you guys met eyes, so you didn't get a chance to talk to him properly.

he clearly had the green online status on his profile, but he wasn't messaging you at all like he usually was. I mean, he's someone you apparently know in real life, so there's no harm in striking up a conversation, right?

you: soooooo

you: who knew that we knew each other irl? lol

you: i mean we dont rlly talk in school so um this is kinda awkward lmfao

you: we can stop being friends online if u want

you: but i won't have anyone to carry me in league :(

you sat the tiny seen beside your message. for the next five minutes, you say idia typing and then not typing. like he was going back and forth. you just waited patiently.

gloomurai: no i still wanna be friends w u

you: u sure? i mean u kinda js dipped lolsies

gloomurai: yeah i know n im sorry i kinda panicked omfg

gloomurai: i never thought you'd be into videos and stuff thats kinda cool

you: huh?? you didn't think that?? have you not seen my anime keychains and video game characters on my phone wallpaper??

gloomurai: no i did but i thought u didnt know what they were....

you laughed, and spent the rest of the night texting him.

your heater was fixed at that point, and had no reason to go back to the gaming cafe (your mom reprimanded you for spending your entire break playing video games) so you didn't see idia until the start of the new semester.

he was still always that shy kid you knew at school, so you approached him first.

"hey idia!"

he looked up from the video game on his phone, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"u-uhm... hi."

"so! how was your winter break?"

you sat beside him, making yourself comfortable. idia tensed up but he seemed okay with it.

"I mostly played video games... like usual."

"haha, I've always thought how weird it was that you were overpowered in so many games! I mean, I've been playing just league for a solid while now and you're just so much stronger than me! in other games too! how do you put so much time into videos games?"

you've seen idia's name often at the top of exam grades when they were posted, you thought all he did was study. now your impression of him changed.

as time went on, idia seemed to have calmed down around you. he wasn't as shy anymore and started talking to you normally like how he'd be online.

when you and him were just internet friends, he refused to voice call. now, he would call and play games with you after school.

he started tailing you everywhere at school, so you even introduced him to your friends and told the funny story of how you and him first met on a game. idia seemed to get along with them as well (you've managed to garner a small group of game nerds, idia fit in smoothly)

idia was indeed tall, despite his posture (imagine how tall he would be if his back was straight) and had bright blue hair, like fire. he often reminded you of a dating game love interest, the loser, gamer boyfriends in video games. when you told him, his cheeks flushed so red that you swore even the colour of his hair changed too.

he was also handsome too, you concluded. you already knew this, but having a closer look at your face really did make you confirm it. the family genetics seemed to be going strong because when you came over to his place one time, you met his younger brother ortho, and was just as cute and pretty and handsome! (you kinda wanted to adopt him what the freak!)

for his birthday, you gifted him a pair of cute kitty hair pins. you knew he liked cats, and you also thought his hair covered his pretty face too much. you thought maybe it was too cutesy for someone like him, but surprisingly, he wore it no problem! whenever you two sunk into the couch to play games, idia would pin his bangs back to focus. hair strands fell to the front of his forehead and you often wanted to push them back and kiss it... WHAT! what are you thinking!!! he doesn't like you that way, wake up and stop being delusional!!!

your feelings for him seemed to be so one sided. he's talk comfortably and casually with you, like a best friend. someone he totally wouldn't have a crush on. you've been trying to get over it (they're only brief feelings, you swear!) but everytime your skin even slightly grazes over his you started to sweat.

maybe you should just confess.

one hot summer night, you're seated beside idia on the floor, shooting down a bunch of zombies. this has been both of your guy's 17th try.

finally... yay!!! you guys managed to complete the round and you cheer in celebration.

"oh my god!! finally!!! idia you are so awesome!"

"I know." he smirks. "what would you do without me?"

you have no idea. you think.

maybe it was the heatwaves. maybe it was the whirring fan only hitting one spot on your back, not cooling you at all. maybe it was because of chewed up popsicle stick sitting in your mouth. but you felt brave.

"I like you." you say.

Idia's smile falls. he turns to look at you.

"I mean- uhm- I- uhm-" oh god. you wanted to hide in a hole right now.

the game's loading screen was playing funky music. you were sweating, from the heat or the confession? who knows.

"what would I do without you? nothing, idia. nothing. I think about you all the time. even slightly grazing shoulders make me panic. I really, truly do like you."

before he can even reply, you continue.

"and.. you treat me like a brother! your best friend! yes, we are friends, but can you treat a person like me with some interest?? I've liked you for months, idia. how did you not get a single hint?!"

you breathe in. and breathe out.

"so. I want you to make a decision. right here, right now. do you like me back? or have I been pining over nothing?"

you stare at him. his eyes are wide, confused, like a cat. you found it so, so cute. you wanted to kiss those eyes, his cheeks so red and flushed from the summer heat, you wanted to kiss his forhead, his jaw, his lips.

your faces were close. you often forget how close in proximity idia likes to be around you.

idia seemed to struggle to make eye contact with you. he looked to the side, then the other side, and then looked down.

"I'm not the only stupid one here, you know."

huh? you blink.

"I also...thought...this was...one sided..." idia's voice egst smaller and smaller. you have to frown to hear him.

"did you not realize why I stay so close behind you? because...uhm..." idia hesitates. "because... I like... you... too. but you were so free... and awesome and cool like that or whatever... and I thought there would be no way you'd look in my.... direction like that."

your heart thumps. the game's music seemed to blur out. the fan was whirring quietly, the grasshoppers buzz outside the open window.

you heard idia's breathing, you saw his eyes spilling the colour of amber. you licked your lips.

the light of the game screen was blocked from your sight as you closed your eyes and felt idia's warmth near your face.

lilia vanrouge [delusional chef]

cooking was something that was special in your heart. it was safe to say that you were utterly disappointed that no one was interested in your cooking club.

the only members were you and your senior, lilia vanrouge.

soon, however, you came to realize why no one wanted to join your club. lilia's cooking was a hideous!

apparently, he was infamous for bringing in the nastiest stench of a lunch to school. for some reason, you were the only person who didn't know! after finding out that lilia joined the cooking club, no one else wanted to join.

you sighed. you needed at least 4 members to be officially registered as a school club.

with lilia's help, both you and him went around promoting and encouraging your club, as well as spending your days cooking.

most of the time, it was just you trying to prevent lilia from doing something ridiculous. there should have been no reason for you to try to convince lilia to not put three pounds of sugar in stew.

salty food tastes sweet, sweet food tastes salty, food in general started to taste gross...

you were exhausted. but for some reason, having the time of your life!

lilia vanrouge was a year older than you, so there was no reason for you to really talk to him. but every time you saw him in the hallways, you always thought he looked so cool with his dark hair striped with vibrant pink and his cute and mischievous vibe! you were glad to be able to finally get to know him, even though he is graduating this year.

you were close to giving up. you were almost at the month mark and no one wanted to join. lilia patted your pack gently as you sniffed.

"it's okay... the school year is ending soon anyway. you can always try next year! obviously I won't be here to help you, but you could still give it a shot."

you smiled at him. of course it was gonna work next year, by that time, lilia would've long gone off and people would actually be interested. it be your senior year next year last well, so you knew you'll have to give it another shot.

so when the end of the month approach, you heartily accepted your denied club application. it was fine! you'll try next year!

it wasn't like home ec. didn't exist. there, you'd cook and have fun.

you kind of missed lilia and hanging out with him, so you started approaching him with new dishes you've made.

"oh! how lovely! it seems that your skills have approved ever since I helped you with cooking! my, my, I must be a chef master of sorts..."

you were nailed in the heart because of the ego hit, but you laughed nonetheless. you thought lilia was silly, fun and interesting. hanging out with him was never boring, and if there was an excuse to hang out with him again, you totally took it.

once you started bringing your dishes, lilia started bringing his own to you. it's like he wanted you dead. they tasted awful. but one bite after another, you smiled meekly as you forced yourself to eat. "it's delicious!" you'd say enthusiastically, as if you didn't just risk burning your stomach out.

lilia would smile, pleased. "wonderful, wonderful!" he'd always say, clasping his hands together.

you would always make extra food when you cooked. lilia was always in your mind when in the kitchen.

so when the last day of school slowly approached, you baked a bunch of cookies to give out to some of your senior friends, lilia included (don't tell anyone-- but lilia's bag had the most and best batch of cookies)

you sheepishly gave it to lilia on the last day. your dear lilia-senpai was graduating, someone who brought a little excitement to your life.

"thank you so much for taking care of me this year. I hope you have a good life outside of highschool!"

when lilia saw your gift, he started to laugh. "what a coincidence! I made some for you too."

he took out a bag of chocolates, storebought.

"I know you don't like my food all that much, so I decided I'd buy food instead. thanks for dealing with my cooking all year, haha."

you took a bite out of your chocolate. it melted in your mouth and the sweetness exploded. you hoped your cookies would taste just as good.

suddenly, lilia stretched out his hand and gently placed his thumb on the corner of your lips.

"you got something there" he said, as he wiped a chocolate mark. without breaking eye contact, he licked it off his own thumb.

"have a great summer."

malleus draconia [shielded rich kid]

unrequited love is so embarrassing. especially if that other person doesn't even know you.

you've been head over heels for malleus draconis for 3 months. all you think about is him. all you want to see is him. but he doesn't even know you.

it was one fateful day, when he picked up your dropped pencil case for you, when you saw his soft smile and emerald eyes. his porcelain skin and his long, elegant nails. you decided from that day on, you were madly in love with him.

so, you've done what any normal person would do and deep dived everything you could find about him

malleus draconia, 3rd year, son of a successful entrepreneur, under draconia co. he likes reading, gargoyles and ice cream, he's good at instruments like the cello and violin... he's been seen exploring ruins... you're not a creep! you swear!

you have this vision in your head where malleus is a prince charming who saves you from the evil villain who wants to sell you for money.

one day, when you were going to school on a crisp morning, someone sat beside you, waiting for the bus.

the guy was unusually tall, so you turned to see malleus draconia standing before you.

"oh hello! I remember you, are you heading to school as well?"

panicked, flustered and nervous, you frantically nodded.

"I've decided I wanted to take the bus today, but I'm sure how I want to approach it. could you help me? ^_^"

"uhm.. o-okay!"

nearly shaking, you sat beside malleus on the way to school.

why was he even taking the bus anyway? wasn't he like, filthy rich?

you friends congratulated you on finally talking to the guy you like when you arrived. you laughed and said that's probably the only time you'll ever talk to him.

however, the next day, malleus was beside you once again.

"good morning!"

you only mustered to say a hello.

"I really enjoyed the bus ride yesterday. Do you also take the bus. to go home?"

you nodded.

"well, I was wondering if you and I could go home on the bus after school? I have some to understand you have to go to a different station to go back? I tried to find it yesterday, but it was just too difficult."

you nodded, again. you could not seem to talk, nervous.

that day, your friends pushed up towards him and left you alone, saying you finally have a shot of getting to know him.

this became a pattern.

every morning you'd take the bus with him to school. once it ended, you and malleus took the bus home together. you weren't sure exactly where he lived, but it was enough to know that he probably lived close by. probably the wealthy neighbourhood you've passed by multiple times.

in your mind, malleus. is perfect, elegant and charming.

in reality, malleus is a sheltered, clumsy and curious boy who really liked taking the bus to and from school.

you started to relax near him too. obviously, you're still nervous and shy, but knowing that malleus isn't a higher being like you made up in your mind, and just a rich kid who has hobbies and interests like any other, you felt a little calmer each day.

"have you done anything other than take the bus?" you asked.

"no, except going on business class on flights."

you laughed. "I was thinking..." you breathed in. "sotheresthisbakerythatopenedandIwaswonderingifyouwantedtogo" you spit out in one breathe.

malleus, like the impressive guy he is, caught everything you said. "well of course! I've been to many in europe, but I've never tasted any pastries here. I usually get them shipped. I'm quite curious!"

entering the bakery, malleus' eyes glimmered like a child.

he said that his family usually chose what he ate, so he really never got a choice. you saw him struggle to pick what he wanted and you offered some suggestions and even paid for it (malleus accidentally gave two hundred dollars for a two dollar bread, he has no concept of money)

seeing malleus act like this, your feelings for him shattered. no, not entirely. just the feelings you had for the cool, distinguished malleus you had in your head. the side of malleus he only showed to the public. instead, you fell in love with the boyish, cute and confused malleus you were seeing now. the side of malleus that he deemed you were worthy enough to see.

this year, it hadn't rained much. so you knew that if it rains, it's gonna pour, hard.

so, after school, you and malleus stood, umbrella-less in a rainstorm. buses were cancelled due to trees fallings.

"well, I could call my driver. if you tell me your address, I can definitely drop you..." malleus stopping talking as he saw you run into the rain. you didn't hear him.

"come on! I know a shortcut! if we run fast enough, we can make it back."

malleus has never met someone so free like you before.

running towards you, you grabbed his hand and pulled him forward through an unknown side of the road.

although the rainstorm was cold and wet, it felt cozy and warm now that his hand was holding onto you. malleus truly thought you were a breath of fresh air.

you started to laugh at yourself. how ridiculous. malleus, a higher class, local rich kid, was following you, someone from a lower class than him, someone not worthy of him. halfway there you realize he could've just call his driver to pick him up. you felt so silly.

"I'm sorry to drag you into the mess" you yelled amongst the splashes of the rain hitting the ground.

when malleus saw you smile and laughing as you apologized for something so silly, he suddenly could imagine an entire future with you and him together.

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 1

I had this little idea. The meeting came to me in a dream, no word of lie. Classic little trope, I know. I'm hoping to work in some smuttier things down the line. Hope I do it justice and you like it 💕 Erring on the side of caution; probably not suitable for Ramadan

You'll be able to read the rest here eventually: Ding

~3.8k words

As she did the wind took her door not much, nor hard but enough to bump into the car beside her.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes, still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It was cold and rainy all day long. It made her want to curl up in a ball with a good book on her sofa and not get up for hours and hours. The kind of day where she wished she wasn’t an adult, and she was back home. Back when her dad would make her hot chocolate, they would watch old movies, and he would give insider information into all the hubbub that happened behind the scenes. How the actors interacted and when the props failed or something of that nature.

Her father was a great film critic. But he always said “even ‘bad’ movies have good.” She had seen tons of movies. Summers during school were filled with at least one movie a night. Sick days were made for marathoning series. When they weren’t watching movies, he was taking her to baseball games, teaching her how to cook—“the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, honey”—and making sure that she knew how to be spoiled by any man that deigned to enter her life. She was handy around the house and fiercely independent.

As much as she enjoyed cooking with her dad, baking was her real passion. She loved the science of baking: how butter affected cookies, temperature changed the consistency of cakes, and nothing made her happier than playing with baking powder and baking soda to change the rise of her pastries.

It led her to this spot. This little bakery. School for business and plenty of classes on cooking and baking. At the age of twenty-seven she was extremely lucky; for the last three years her business had been so successful. It was in local and state magazines about a hot spot for tourists and one of those shops that everyone just loved.

She wished her dad could see it but knew he would be proud of her regardless.

A strong gust of wind pulled her from her thoughts. There was a late-night closing report she needed to go over—a favor to her regular closer who needed to get home to her little baby. But really, A Pinch of Sprinkles was her baby and she loved to be in the little shop that smelled like the cupcakes she loved making.

She zipped her coat up, pulling her hood over her hair. It was hardly any further than a 40-yard dash to her little bakery door but in a steady rain like this, she thought not even her rubber boots would be enough to keep her dry for the short little sprint she would have in just a moment. She thought of her dad again, who would have run around to her door and held an umbrella over her head before getting out in the rain. With a deep, sad sigh, she braced herself, opened her door and reached for her umbrella and purse on the passenger seat.

As she did the wind took her door. It wasn't much, nor hard to create real havoc, but enough to bump into the car beside her. “Fuck,” she hissed getting out quickly, her belongings be damned her hair getting wet and stringy almost immediately. She slammed her door shut, turned to the car beside her, and made eye contact with the person in the driver’s seat. Her lips parted slightly, heart hammering in her chest. There was hardly anything more than a bit of a ding on the the stranger's car but the unmoving gaze that returned from the front seat intimidated her immensely.

The man rolled the window down, his deep green eyes still blank. “You’ll have t’pay for that,” his voice was low and gravelly.

It felt like thunder was inside her chest, the way her heart was thudding against her ribs. An intimidating man, his hair not quite buzzed off but not quite much more than an inch or two long, deep, soulful eyes. His gaze didn’t drop from hers. It was like he was having a staring contest.

“I... am... so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t afraid to admit she was terrified. It wasn’t that she was terrified of men. But in a dark parking lot and someone who looked so intimidating... well it was a modern-day-female nightmare.

The man smiled and suddenly he was no longer intimidating. Dare she say, he was even cute. The left half of his mouth quirked up and he glanced down at his hands on the steering wheel, tapped a quick rhythm on it, and turned back to her. “S’okay,” he shrugged, rolling the window back up. He stepped out into the rain in the same motion, rain not bothering him as it began to soak his hair and slid down his face. The man was gorgeous. A walking ad for raincoats and umbrellas. He meandered over to where she stood. Her heart still pounded now for an entirely new reason. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reached for the blemish on his car. “See, jus’ a ding,” he rubbed his fingers over the little indent a few times before turning back to meet her gaze again.

His grin was adorable.

The air came out of her in a whoosh loud enough to rival the one that took her door right into his car. “I’ll pay for it to be fixed,” she promised.

He chuckled. “S’fine, love,” he assured her. “S’jus’ a ding,” he repeated with a shrug.

By now she was drenched. It wasn’t a downpouring, but the steadiness of the raindrops won out. Without any regard to how she was stood still between the two cars—soaking the inside of her seat as well—he leaned in, grabbed her purse, umbrella and closed the door behind him. Honestly, it didn’t even cross her mind that he was going to rob her. That alone should have raised about ten alarm bells in her head. Instead, for whatever reason, she felt safe.

He handed her own bag to her. It felt so strange. Like she didn’t know what to do with it. He paid no mind to her uneasiness. Without any acknowledgment of their weird meeting and their even weirder interaction thus far, he opened the umbrella and held it over the pair of them to keep a little dryer—even though they were both already soaked.

“Let’s go,” he put a hand on her lower back to usher her out from between the cars.

Reality and her brain finally restarted in her head. “Excuse me? Go where?”

He shrugged. “Well... y’did ding m’car. Assumed y’could at least come with me.”

“Come with you where?” She repeated incredulously.

“Oh right, sorry. D’you have plans? A date?”

“Well...no...”

“Great,” he tiled his head in gesture toward their current path, the opposite direction of her bakery.

“Can you tell me where it is you want me to go?” But she was already following the gentle touch on her back to keep her moving in his current direction. She should have felt unsafe. This was unnatural. How could she not be scared?

He pointed at the municipal building—it was old and pretty. Pretty typical for a little tourist area. Lights caught the raindrops that fell to the ground that hung from ancient looking black iron sconces. Steps up to the main doors were cobblestone and probably brand new as they were replaced over the years. Back in the day it was probably home to many rousing mini-city debates. It was hard to imagine back then it would ever become the bustling little tourist center it was at present. “Y’ever been in?” He asked.

She shook her head. It was like he was a truth serum wrapped in a hot body. There was nothing to explain her reasoning to answering him. “Not since I was little. My dad took me to a magic show here.”

“Well, s’not quite as magical, but s’a fight tonight.”

“A fight?”

“Boxing.”

“Boxing?” She repeated.

“M’not trying t’be rude, are y’hard of hearing?”

“What? No,” she shook her head, confusion coloring her features. “Why?”

“Y’keep repeating everything I say,” his ever-present half-smile was mocking her.

She scowled at him, shook her head again, and halted them in the middle of the rainy sidewalk. “Please stop walking. I’m so confused,” she put her hands on her temples. Why was she even following him? She didn’t need to be with him right now. She could have walked the other direction just as easily and told him to take a hike.

“Mmm... I’d rather not, I’ve got t’get ready,” he explained inching further along the path with the umbrella in his hand still. “M’on the first card.”

“Let’s try this again,” she stood her ground. Deciding now that if he were a serial killer, it would be too late but at least she could have the satisfaction of trying. “I don’t know your name and contrary to my current actions I'm actually very wary of strangers. But I own the bakery right over there in the main square. I was going to run the closing report. I’ll wait there until your fight is over,” she suggested--where she at least had security cameras set up and would have proof of a stranger murdering her with a baking sheet. “You can come get my insurance info then,” she spun quickly away from him, and started back toward the direction of the bakery; he could keep the umbrella.

“Your bakery?” He asked, following her a few paces back.

“Yes. A Pinch of Sprinkles. It’s right over there,” she gestured to the main bustling little square.

“You own the bakery: A Pinch of Sprinkles?”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

He snorted at her and smirked once more. “Alright,” he sighed holding his hands up in surrender. “M’Harry. M’in a boxing match tonight. M’normally in there by now getting ready. But this really pretty girl dinged m’car,” his smile was so boyish for someone who scared the lights out of her only minutes before. “And y’did kind of promise t’come with me as payment,” he looked at her knowingly.

“I did not promise that,” her tone was defensive. “I said I would pay for the dent to be fixed.”

“I know y’did. S’very nice of you. S’not what I want. This is how I want you t’pay me.”

“By coming to watch your fight?”

He nodded eagerly. But she saw his eyes scanning her. He was still holding her umbrella while she continued to get soaked. Her dad would have a conniption at the sight of a stranger holding her umbrella and not keeping her dry. But it didn’t bother her. If anything, she kind of liked it if only because it gave her a chance to look at how adorable he was holding her flowery umbrella when she knew the embodiment of intimidation was going to punch someone at three-minute intervals.

Harry stepped closer, bringing her back under the umbrella. “Look... If y’really need t’go to your bakery, then no, of course m’not going t’stop you. But if it can wait, then s’how y’can repay me,” he shrugged. They were huddled close together under the umbrella. Her hair was a wet stringy mess. She knew very little about boxing. Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Rocky and The Eye of the Tiger. That was about the extent of her knowledge. Boxing wasn’t one of the major sports her dad imparted his wisdom about to her.

“You want me to go to your fight as payment for your car dent?”

“Are y’going t’jus’ keep saying the same thing as me but as a question all night?” She knew she was repeating herself again. She pursed her lips to refrain from asking another question. “C’mon, Cupcake... m’really starting t’run late here,” he pointed to his wrist with an imaginary watch.

Cupcake.

What was she getting herself into?

She took a deep breath trying to calm the bit of nerves. “I’m not really a go with the flow kind of girl. I have a lot of questions.”

He smiled sweetly. Nodded like he expected such an answer, like he knew her already. “M’sure you do,” he agreed. “But... I really need t’go in. Like right now. Louis is going t’kill me if I don’t appear in front of him four minutes ago. When the fight’s over, I’ll walk y’to A Pinch of Sprinkles. We’ll run y’closing report and I’ll answer every question y’have.”

It took every bit of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from repeating him again. We. “There’s also the whole... I don’t know you at all, thing,” she reminded him stepping out from the umbrella again. “Seems like a bad idea on my part.”

It was almost moot though. Even she heard the way her voice sounded like she was caving as she said it. He stepped closer again. “You’re right. S’good instincts that I admire y’have,” he held his phone out to her, the screen catching a few drops of rain. “S’my niece,” he told her of the baby on the lit screen. She was only a few months old based on the picture. “She’s got me wrapped around m’finger and she’s barely old enough t’even see me and know m’holding her. Least that’s what m’sister Gemma says,” he shrugged. The adoration, the love in his voice made her stomach flip. It was unbelievably adorable this scary man was in love with a little baby. His voice was so sweet, it made her feel at ease. “I grew up with Mum and Gemma,” he looked her squarely in the eye. “I know m’about t’go in there and punch another grown man, but m’not dangerous. Especially not towards a girl who parked in a dark parking lot who owns a bakery with a sprinkles pun," her heart softened. “I know y’have questions, Cupcake. But I really need t’go in there,” he was growing the slightest bit impatient. “Louis is gonna send Niall out looking for me and then m’screwed. I need y’decision either way.”

It was perhaps her dumbest idea ever. Even stupider than when she tried to make peanut butter cookies without peanut butter to make them allergy friendly. “Are you going to win?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Think so. Especially if you’re there as m’good luck charm," he winked.

When she thought about this in the future or when she ended up on a true crime TV episode, it would be this moment that thousands and millions of people would say "how could she be so stupid?"

But she started for the building ahead of him, anyway. He fell into step beside her holding the umbrella over her again. “Probably not a good idea to put stock into me when I just dented your car.”

“S’jus’ a ding, Cupcake,” he smiled. “Something t’remember y’by.”

She couldn’t believe how quick and flirtatious he was. He knew all the right things to say and wasn’t even the least bit nervous it seemed. When he went into the ring or something she would have to Google his name and see if she accidentally made a fool of herself talking to a professional boxer. “You’re something else.”

They entered the building from a back door guarded by a man who gave Harry a nod as he ushered the sweet girl inside. “You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you?” A blonde man with an Irish accent asked, running his hand through his hair right as the guard at the door pulled the door shut from the outside. “I was just about to go see what happened this time,” he started back down the hall, deeper into the building. “He’s losing his mind,” he warned.

Harry shrugged. “Met a girl,” he smiled back at her. “She owns the bakery. She’s gonna be my good luck charm”

“Oh, you’re the reason for my freshman fifteen,” the blond man wiggled his eyebrows at her as he turned to her as well.

“Cupcake, this is Niall, he’ll keep an eye on you,” he assured her.

“Cupcake, hmm?” Niall chuckled. “Louis’ gonna kill you,” he skipped ahead of Harry. “Found him!”

“Harold you better have been held at gunpoint!” The shout was nearly hysterical as they approached the open room.

“He was just talking to Cupcake,” Niall was nearly giggling. Louis, she presumed, wasn’t the least bit amused. His face was hard. His blue eyes cold, his jaw as sharp as his words.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped. “Get your fucking clothes on,” he ordered.

Harry rolled his eyes and winked in her direction. “Hold this for me?” He asked, handing her his phone. The picture of the little babe illuminated the screen and a message from Mum was previewed on the screen so she couldn’t help but read, “Good luck honey bunny!” With about ten four-leaf clover emojis and just as many hearts. It warmed her heart so much to see the message on this scary man’s phone. She had doubts now that he was going to murder her later. A murderer wouldn’t have a supportive mom like that, right? Or a picture of their niece as their phone background? “See y’in a bit, Cupcake,” he gave her arm a squeeze and leaned her umbrella beside the door leading into the next room.

Niall was sipping a beer from a clear cup. “Y’ready, Cupcake?”

She snorted, sticking his phone into her purse alongside hers and nodded. “Sure. M’gonna have a lot of questions.”

He laughed. “Well, I have a lot of questions for you,” he promised pushing a set of double doors and into a thrumming, crowded arena.

It was definitely not a magic show.

Blinking, Niall put a gentle hand on her back and leaned toward her ear so she could hear better. “How do you know Harry?”

“I don’t,” she shouted back to be heard over the crowd. There were people getting things set up, announcements being made, and the like. There were people cheering and she couldn’t believe how big the boxing ring looked. The only boxing ring she had ever seen was the one in Rocky. Moreover, the only thing she knew about that ring was that the audience in the movie was given a free chicken dinner for showing up to the arena and they dimmed the lights, so it looked like more people were there. “My car door hit his car.”

“You hit Clay?”

“Who’s Clay?”

“His car!”

“He named his car, Clay?”

“Like Cassius Clay?”

Again, she didn’t know much about boxing, but she realized immediately that Harry named his car after the greatest heavyweight boxer ever. Oh, Lord. What did you get yourself into? She thought to herself. “Er… yeah… I guess so.”

“And he didn’t...” Niall drifted off curiously. “Hmm,” it seemed he surmised something in his head but didn’t let her in on the secret. He gestured to a chair that was front and center of the corner of the ring for her to sit. He took the seat beside her and leaned close as she spoke to him again. “How do you know Harry?”

“We’ve been best friends since Uni,” he shrugged. “Been icing his bruises for years.”

She nodded. “I see. Are you recently graduated? You said freshmen fifteen?”

Niall laughed. It was contagious. Made her feel safe still. The whole last ten minutes were surreal. She really followed a stranger to a boxing match. She was sitting with his best friend asking questions about someone she hardly knew. “Just a joke, Cupcake. You are single handedly responsible for my recent weight gain since you moved into town. Well, you and that Irish soda bread you made last March. It tasted like home.”

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I was so nervous about it!”

Talking about sweet treats and breads and cupcakes was more her speed. “Oh, it was perfect, Cupcake. Rivaled my nan’s.”

Well, maybe Harry wasn’t so scary.

At least his friends were nice. Although... “Louis hates me, doesn’t he?” The thought of someone hating her, even though she didn't even know him made her sad.

Niall rolled his eyes. “No, he’s just so sick of Harry being late. Thinks because he’s undefeated on this circuit he can do whatever he wants.”

“Undefeated?” She was grateful Harry wasn’t there to hear her question repeating the same thing Niall said again.

“Not much of a boxer are you, Cupcake?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.”

He chuckled. “Harry’s very good. You’ll see.” Clearly. What did he need a good luck charm if he was already undefeated. She really needed to research him.

As if he heard his own name, he dropped into the seat across from her. It would be inside the ring between rounds but for now it allowed him to gaze at the pretty girl he met moments before. “Hi Cupcake,” his smile was sugary—and she knew sugar.

“Hi,” she murmured, willing her eyes to stay focused on his face and not his bare torso. A litany of tattoos painted his skin and a pair of vines dipped into the band of the shorts he wore. Everything was black. His shorts, his tattoos, his shoes, and his gloves. She could see tape going up half the length of his forearm keeping the bottom of his gloves in place.

“That’s a record for you getting ready. Must be your good luck charm,” Niall nudged her with his elbow. “Didn’t I tell you those soda breads were delicious?”

Harry kept his eyes on her and nodded. “Y’did.”

“Told you,” Niall assured her.

“Wouldn’t shut up ‘bout them,” Harry was unmoving, his body, his gaze. His phone was in her purse. He was looking at her like she was pretty, and she knew her makeup and hair was ruined by the rain. “M’a bigger fan of those raspberry filled cupcakes of yours,” he told her. “S’like heaven in a cupcake.”

“Harry, I swear to God!” Louis shouted.

Harry smiled ruefully, winked at her again and finally moved, heading back toward the sound of Louis’ voice. “Niall, don’t let her leave, yeah?”

Niall saluted him and she watched him leave again. She cleared her throat, turning in her seat toward the door, she exited to get to her ring-side seat. “Good luck, Harry,” she called, unsure if he would hear her over the building crowd.

Harry turned back right as he got to the door and winked again. “Thanks Cupcake,” he called back loud enough for everyone to hear that he was talking to her. Niall chuckled, shook his head, and put a friendly arm across the back of her chair.

He was kind enough to lean to her ear so that others wouldn’t hear the next thing he said because it made her blush and nearly melt to the floor right in front of Harry’s best friend and the very ring, he would be punching another grown man in just a few minutes. “Hope you like your boyfriends like your frosting, Cupcake. Because that man is already whipped for you.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

[its-time-to-write]

Ohhh love to see you’re back! 💜💜💜💜

How about a Jaime x baker!girlfriend? Maybe she doesn’t really know who he is so when he acts all arrogant she just throws him out of her bakery? And he’s like “her! I want her! I’m in love! 🥰 🥰🥰🥰”

Still feeling a bit rusty lol. Next on the docket is the married at first sight fic. Not sure how long or short it’ll be but I’m doing my best!! Thanks for the requests🩵🩵

god, it’s brutal out here

“How many cakes do we have?” you mutter. “Four. Four cakes. I should’ve stuck to pastries. But nooo, I had to show off my fancy decorating. Fuck me.”

The door chimes, signifying the first customer of the day. You sigh, slap one more sticky note on the wall, then head to the front.

Today will be like every other day, which is nice; a revolving door of customers, some looking for a quick bite and others placing larger orders for weddings, birthdays, dinner parties. 

Baking is a ritual; you wake up early every morning, make a fresh cup of coffee, then begin mixing, kneading, and measuring. It’s a dance; you weave between the fridge, the oven, and the counters. It’s a science; you slice with precision, check temperatures for perfection, bake until golden.

Late in the afternoon, after you’ve closed, you’ll bring leftover bread and desserts to your flat for your friend group’s weekly dinner. Everyone will contribute something, from appetizers to mains to drinks. The weather is nice enough that dinner will be in your backyard and you mentally choose dishes as you take customer orders. 

Your bakery closes in five minutes when the bell jingles once, twice, three times. You sigh. Three fucking closers. 

The last is a man around your age and you won’t lie, he’s objectively good looking. But his teeth are just a little too sharp and his clothes are just a little too flashy. He’s like one of those frogs, brightly colored so you know they’re poisonous.

He rattles off a long order without giving you a moment to really take it down and then just stares expectantly at you when you tell him the total.

“Cash or card..?” you ask after a beat. The man tilts his head.

“Neither..?” he replies, mirroring your tone. “I’m Jamie Tartt.”

You grimace. “And you expect free pastries because your last name is on the menu?”

“I’m Jamie Tartt,” he says again. “I’m like, really fucking famous.”

He has a stupid grin plastered on his face and you really can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

You stare at him in disbelief. “I don’t have time for this. I think you should go.”

Jamie’s a little shocked. It takes him a moment to actually register your words but he does. He turns on his heel and you lock the door behind him, breathing a sigh of relief. Any thoughts of his beautiful face are distorted by his shit, entitled personality.

—

“I brought tequila,” says Dani with a grin. “And a friend.”

The dinner party is already in full swing but this is classic Dani. Always late, always with tequila, always with a surprise.

“Any friend of yours is a friend of ours,” you reply. “Everyone’s out back. Flo’s grilling and Ed’s in charge of music.”

You and Dani shake your head. Ed should not be in charge of music. 

“I will go fix this,” Dani says and then he’s off, leaving you alone with his friend.

You turn to introduce yourself and see-

“Jamie Tartt,” you state. It’s all you can do to hold in a snarl.

“Hey,” he says, and at least he’s sheepish. How someone like him is friends with Dani is beyond you.

It does make a little bit more sense, though. Dani is a footballer (you know that at least) so you’re assuming Jamie must be in that world as well. You should have known, he was the exact type of pretty and stupid you’ve found most footballers to be, professional or otherwise.

“What’s your problem?” you ask bluntly. “You’re friends with Dani, but you’re an entitled dick. How does that work?”

The tips of Jamie’s ears tinge red. “I- it’s not like that. I mean, it fucking was like that but not anymore and besides- was flirting.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” he hastily continues, “just were doing a piss-poor job. Didn’t come out like I meant it to.”

“You can say that again,” you agree and Jamie flinches, slightly.

“I am sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to be a prick. Roy says it’s just the way I am, it’s in my fucking bones or something. I’m working it though,” he adds. “I can tell you about sometime. Maybe over dinner?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

Jamie shrugs. “What have I got to lose? You already look like you fuckin’ hate me. Can’t get much lower than that.”

“Maybe,” you reply. “Going to ask need a drink first though. If you’re friends with Dani you’ve got to have something going for you, but I still think you’re a bit of a prick.”

Jamie smiles. “I can work with that, love. Let’s get you that drink.”

[croissantlover24]

I think it’s really interesting that when Rez met Lunar, it was like the opposite of when Lunar speaks to Gemini. With Gemini, he’s in an open field with bright colors and lots of space. With Rez, everything was dark and the paths were somewhat small and cramped.

The thought of the negative star power beings being anti-matter is a fun one because, if their power and meeting place are the complete opposite of the main Astrals, maybe their residence is, too. An anti-matter universe is theoretically possible, so maybe there’s another multiverse identical to the main multiverse that’s made out of anti-matter/dark star power instead of matter and star power where these constellations come from in the first place.

Maybe that anti-matter multiverse is starting to seep into the normal multiverse, just as Rez and Cetus planned.

I have been processing for days now, the REVALATION. That there are more star entities outside of the astrals.

I mean, I've been wondering about it for so long. But in that last episode with Gemini, they finally confirmed it! The zodiacs are not the only living constellations, there are probably hundreds of others!

I am SO SO SOSODODSODIODISODSIOdoS excited. I mean, this explains a lottttttttttttttttttttttttt. Like, why is there star power law if the astrals don't explain said laws to planetary beings? Because planetary beings shouldn't know it exists! It exists for the other constellations!

If Lunar is the only person we've seen tried, why is there a whole legal system?? FOR THE OTHER STARS!

And this makes me wonder even more, how many negative star entities are there? There's got to be more than Rez and Cetus, but if my theory about dark star energy being a form of antimatter is correct, and just so the story makes sense, there would have to be less negative entities than positive ones.

And really any constellation COULD be negative star power. Because in real life, Cetus isn't made out of antimatter. It's just a normal constellation (that we know of). Which means any constellation COULD be negative. THERE'S SO MUCH POTENTIAL! DIDJOOWdjiowjiojdaioajaiojaiojaojidjo

[piperlivingdeliberately]

super quick silly little hazel headcanons

she’s obsessed with fidget toys and discovers it when you let her use your fidget cube. she steals it all the time and refuses to just buy one for herself because it’s more of a fun little treat when she sees you

she was a huge cartoon network watcher as a kid. still loves gumball and adventure time because who doesn’t???

favorite subject is science and loves doing fun mini experiments in her free time

tried to cut her own hair once and it looked fucked for weeks

will show up to your house much later than you expect and you’re about to be mad but she comes in with her arms full of chocolate and pastries from a cute store she passed on the way

nsfw!!! under the cut

sees boobs and instantly her brain fogs up

could suck on your tits for hours if you let her. you’d have purple nips for days

basically talks to herself when she fucks you because she’s in disbelief at how perfect you are

could be totally dominant one minute but as soon as you start touching her she melts into a puddle at your feet

i believe in loser!hazel supremacy.

sex is very giggly and fun because you both are so comfortable with each other

loves aftercare but half the time she’s so fucked out that she falls asleep before either of you can get cleaned up

i hope you liked this!! let me know if you did and i’d love to take requests!!

[stsgluver]

gojo hours (aka 24/7) is so real!!!! as for prompts i have been floating around with this but secret dating but they’re 100% so obviou about it. they also have the audacity to act surprised when they are accused of dating (by students or friends)

the idea was inspired by a prompt i saw with “let’s compare hands for science.” / “what?” / “it’s not like we haven’t done anything worse.”

HE WOULDN'T EVEN TRY TO BE SUBTLE.

you were both teachers at tokyo, having met as students so you'd known each other well over a decade.

when you were teenagers it was a very much will-they-won't-they relationship and you were both so so close to it being the real thing... but then toji fushiguro happened and haibara died and then suguru left to kill non-sorcerers and gojo isolated himself to the point where the two of you would barely say a greeting to each other when in passing.

it wasn't till you came back to be a teacher (you'd left tokyo high to work as a sorcerer independently for six years after graduation) that you two began to reconnect.

and it wasn't till about twelve months prior to the present that you had finally agreed to go on a date with him.

it was an unspoken agreement to keep the relationship under wraps. gojo was terrified the second he acknowledged you to the jujutsu world he'd lose you and you wanted people to respect you for your skills as a grade one sorcerer and not be reduced to a special grade's side piece.

you hadn't out right said it was secret but neither of you were jumping to tell anyone you were official.

gojo, however, had slipped back into old habits very quickly and, even before the two of you had started your secret escapades, your students and friends around you were suspicious. anyone with a pair of eyes could see how much gojo doted on you.

he brought you pastries, stayed back with you after class to clear rooms up, and was the first to have a go at the higher-ups whenever they'd blindside you and send you on a mission too difficult for one sorcerer alone (even they were getting suspicious of your relationship and wanted to see how far he'd go for you).

yuji and nobara had been at jujutsu high for two weeks before they met you. the two plus megumi had left class in search of gojo when they'd come across him speaking to you.

there was mere inches between the two of you. satoru had even lifted off his blindfold to speak to you, head tilted slightly with his lips tilted into a smirk as you ranted about the latest instant that the higher ups had managed to piss you off.

"is that gojo-sensei's girlfriend?" yuji had asked megumi, him and nobara sharing suspicious glances.

"no. she's the second year's teacher.”

"but they're close-close.”

“i know.”

"are you sure they’re not dating?”

megumi sighed. “i don’t care. go ask them.”

so he did.

yuji’s pink flop of hair appeared between the two of you, causing you to jump and take a step back from satoru to accommodate for the student. "are you two dating?"

"hi- what- no, us?" you stammered out, pointing between yourself and satoru as you adamantly shook your head.

"yuji!” satoru wrapped one arm around the boy’s shoulders and one arm around yours, “this is yn!"

he didn’t deny the question.

AND THE COMPARING HAND SIZES?

gojo does it regularly. any chance he can get.

he love love loves your height difference.

he's 6'3 so being taller than everyone isn’t unusual for him but something about being taller than you made him giggly.

the two of you had gone to the park with the first years for well deserved ice cream (kikufuku for gojo), and when yuji and nobara begin arguing over who has the largest pinky finger, gojo found it to be the perfect opportunity to compare your own fingers.

"let's compare hands for science," satoru would wriggle his eyebrow at you, pulling back the sleeve of his uniform jacket to clearly present you his hand (and also give you a glimpse of his toned forearm that he knows you love).

you rolled your eyes, glancing to the three students that were only metres away from you doing the same thing.

"what? right now?"

"it's just comparing hand sizes,” satoru dismissed before a mischievous look appeared on his delicate features. he bent down to your height, the hairs on the back of your neck lifting as he whispered, “plus it's not like we haven't done anything worse in pub-"

"megumi's watching us.” you cleared your throat, trying to keep your composure and not make it obvious the you’re affected by his indirect recounts of particular times together.

gojo grinned, standing up tall and grabbing your wrist absentmindedly to compare sizes despite your protests. “he asked me yesterday if i liked you again.”

"what did you say?” your hand was dwarfed by his, and it always shocked you how smooth his skin felt against yours despite the years and years of fighting against curses.

satoru interlocked your fingers and pressed a soft kiss between your knuckles. “that i loved you, of course.”

[intotherumiverse]

★ ૮₍ ≧ . ≦ ₎ა 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 !!

ღ. synopsis ; one peice characters and the majors and trades they're in !

ღ. featuring ; luffy m. ; zoro r. ; sanji v. ; ussop ; robin ; nami ; chopper ; brook + bonus !

ღ. cw ; weed mention, cursing, shitposting

ღ. notes ; i haven't written in so long I forgot how to so this.... bare w me on this one !

luffy

luffy is an international relation major

all the professors love him and its defintely the only reason he's passing his classes

he has not one clue what going on (most of the time), head empty

also has really good finals grades

like its so surprising to see him pass with a low b high c average

he's really likeable, everyone and they momma wants to hang out with him

usally hanging out with sanji (bc he cooks) or zoro (caus he thinks he's cool)

he tutors with nami and robin sometimes (they're the only ones that can deal with him on the regular)

he's so silly and goofy i love him your honor

zoro

bussniess major but is never doing what he needs to do

classes? not in them. Homework? What's that? he is no where to be found and that should scare you.

he's somehow doing well in class and no one can figure out how he's doing it.

he's the captain of the fighting club (first rule of fight club? no talking about fight club) and he's good with members and running them

he hates the idea of hazing in his club and will kick you out if you try it

he has a special bond with one of the advisors given to him and he defends him like hell

he hangs around luffy bc he thinks of him as a little brother and wants to make sure he's alright

fights with sanji because he thinks its sooooo fucking funny

he's a regualar at the local bar to the point they don't even I.D him anymore they're just like "there's zoro."

sanji

definitely a food science major

he loves trying out new recipes and helping in the kitchen

sometimes when money gets low, he'll have a bake sale and they always do really fucking well

sometimes he'll take apprentenships for "fun" and so he's just racked up expirence in working in different places

his dream job is to have his own resturant where he can create his own dishes and not take any shit from anyone

also (because my sanji is a weed smoker not a cig user) will sometimes make weed pastries and they do so well when he sells them

would be outside on a smoke break but somehow never smells like weed its so crazy

would be the type of student to grumble and complain about homework but still do it anyway (he's just like me fr)

ussop

went to a shopworking trade school (his momma didn't want him to learn nothing after high school so she made him)

he found out later that he like working on different things and keeping himself busy

he also like gardening in his spare time

he's like really good at it and sometimes when his garden is too much for his family, he'll either give it to his neighbors or sell it in the farmer's market

his most frequent customer is sanji because sanji likes the freshest products avaliable

sanji askes him to hang out and try his recipes from time to time and eventually he makes friends with everyone

nami

earth sceiene major with minor in accounting

she is the the most ruthless student you'll ever meet

she don't take any shit from no one regardless of who you are, which is why she makes such a good tutor

she makes sure all her students get a good grade and because she tutors both zoro and luffy, she makes BANK

she also is the pretty girl on campus and all her friends pretty too !

hair done, lashes done, lashes done, face card don't decline, body tea !

she loves hanging out with the group but she'll never tell you that but everyone knows she cares about her people

she's lowkey scary

she isn't afriad to curse you the fuck out when you piss her off

fiercely loyal my girl nami is badddd

robin

history major with a minor in english

knows everything about everything and is one of the best tutors of the campus

she's kinda shy (mostly cause she doesn't like people but she's trying)

luffy thought she was cool and just kept bothering her until she reluctantly accepted

she's a real history buff and can debate her history like no one else

once got into it with zoro for a peice of random history

chopper

struggling medicene major

he looks stressed at all times and somehow is keeping a 4.0 gpa

luffy and zoro will come over with brusises and he just takes one look at him and sighs deeply

he helps in the nursing home with the doctors because he feels happy when people are treated

he doesn't like when people treat him or others differently so he's such a big advocate for anti discrimination against anyone

he likes helping people that most doctors would ignore and people hate him for that

he's not good at taking compliments so its funny to see him react to the compliments

he loves sweets and he loves when sanji makes them so he's always first in line at sanjis bake sale

he's so cute and small your honor

frankky

mechanic (trade school)

a literal grease monkey

he's always making something in his garage and

he makes custom peices for his friends and even sold some to some of the rich kids

besides that he's really cool about things

he's co chill about everything and help fix things whenever the crew needs it

all in all a cool dude

brook

old ass music head

he's one of the best musicains and he's so casual about it

he's a allumi for the school and he takes students every year to train them and teach them what he knows

he only takes like 5 students a year so the spots are very competative and very hard to get into

hes so chill otherwise

the type of mentor to call you out on your bullshit but still

extra little bonus scene!

the gang goes to Jinbe's resturant every week after all they're classes. Luffy had stumbled upon it one day and he just slowly started to get his friends to go their and that's just become their hangout spot since then. Jinbe pretends to hate when they come over but in all actuality, he loves talking to them and getting to know them as a group and as individuals. he loves their energy and will make sure they eat well and they're getting good grades.

no tag list for now but make sure you're supporting the people that are spending time making works for your entertainment !

@rynfiles ; @strawhatkia

[croissantlover24]

Top Three Fandoms (I don’t have any favorite musical artists, so I put my favorite song from the fandom):

FNAF (Favorite song: Dancing Down Below)

Minecraft (Favorite song: Mice on Venus)

Stardew Valley (Favorite song: Summer (Tropicala))

A fun fact about myself: I love geology. It’s one of my favorite scientific fields. I own boxes of geodes I cracked open myself, haha.

Last song I listened to: “Attack of the Killer Queen” from Deltarune Chapter Two

Fun little thingy

Tell us your top 3 fav fandoms you're in and your fav song from each fandom!

Then tell us your top 3 fav song creators and ur fav song from each creator

Then you can just tell us something about yourself! And if you want you can say ur top fav song and tag some people!

Don't forget to say the song you last listened to/are listening to right now.

[croissantlover24]

Introduction

I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANYTHING I POST BEING USED IN A DOCUMENT AND/OR OTHER DATA SET THAT EXISTS TO BRING ATTENTION TO AND/OR HARM A PERSON OR GROUP OF PEOPLE.

Hello, Internet! I think it’s about time I made an introduction post. I am, as you can see from my username, CroissantLover24 (“croissant” or “pastry” for short). On here, you’ll see me reblog a plethora of Sun and Moon Show, FNAF, Undertale, Deltarune, Stardew Valley, BATIM, and Minecraft content. I am a sex-and-romance-repulsed Aro-Ace/Quoiromantic and all of my characters are sex-repulsed asexuals (please don’t ship them together unless they have been confirmed to not be Aro-Ace as well). Feel free to ask me anything! My asks are almost always open for any questions, comments, or similar concepts.

Tag Explanations:

#pastry-polls is a tag for any polls I post.

#pastry-loses-her-almost-perfect-grammar-for-sun-and-moon-show-drama-again is my Sun and Moon Show venting tag.

#pastry-writes is usually what I tag my posts where I follow prompts or add my own advice/commentary to a separate post with.

#pastry-loves-science is my science tag. This is where I’ll ramble about science, add onto the ramblings of someone else, or mention which scientific fields I’m currently interested in.

#pastry-rambles is where I’ll ramble about theories or ideas I have, such as the “Third Person Bias” article I wrote about the Sun and Moon Show audience, or add onto the ramblings of someone else.

#pastry-answers is my ask tag! Any asks I get will be tagged with this.

#pastry-draws is something I plan on using in the future on my artworks, as few as there are on here.

#pastry-thinks is a tag for any weird, out-of-pocket or out-of-context memories I have.

Please do not interact with me if you…

-are trying to discuss the allegations against Shattered-Sparks. Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk about it.

-harass people who don’t (or do) ship SolarMoon (gore askers)

-think the gore anons aren’t real (Stay far away from me. I know there are very few of you, but that’s awful.)

-are going to vote for Donald Trump in November (I don’t care if you don’t like him but are still voting for him. If you are going to vote for him, please do not interact with me, thanks)

-are an Israel supporter (this is a blog that supports Palestine)

-are just a bad and rude person in general

Thank you for reading and have a great day! :)

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Writing requests are open. Art requests are closed.

Writing side blog for writing requests: @thecroissantwriter

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the four dads (Dino, Henrique, Gerhard, and Dali) with a very sweet baker s/o who loves spoiling the kids with treats?

Staunch barrier to this.

Sweets lead to rotten teeth, poor appetites, and softness around the middle & spirit. He doesn’t want Theodore overly coddled, nor given sweets in excess. Dino makes exceptions when invited to tea, as it is expected that they will be served. Being with a baker has led to challenges with his ‘no sugar’ rule as it is literally their profession. Plus, it would be a waste to not try the new creations of one of the finest pâtisserie in the world. His ban on sweets is then lifted but under the guise of ‘science’ for experimenting with their new creations.

Enabling enabler.

Henrique is probably just as guilty of this. He gives his girls anything they want (sometimes to their detriment) and very rarely says no. Unfortunately, this has led to a lot of stomach aches for Lucia & Elena, as the girls need boundaries. Henrique has to learn to say no, which is hard, but it’s important. He does love that they want to spoil his girls just as much but he supposes they have to be the adults at the end of the day.

On the fence about it.

Having access to luxuries like pastries and cakes are a privilege of the noble class, but there is something to be said about overindulgence. All in all, Gerhard turns a blind eye to it. If he doesn’t see his son being spoiled by them, then Angelico is not being spoil. He has the same feelings about his own sweet tooth habit; if not one saw him eat the tarts, then it never happened.

All things in moderation.

Hoping to be the best parent in the history of parents, he appreciates that sweet treats are good but should be considered a treat. Dali wants his children to have proper nutrition and meals. Will ask demand that they show him how to bake so he can do it for his sons. And although he succeeds in learning the basics, they are never as good as theirs. So, he just lets them do it.

[catscidr]

Could I request head canons with reader who likes to cook and clean and is basically like a house wife. Dottore and Childe please ☺️

(oﾟ◇ﾟ)ﾉ perhaps you can............. i did my best to try to make these not too redundant , so forgive me if they're a little repetitive sometimes. the tldr is just that they love their cute wife (you) shgjngfns ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: fluff! domestic fluff!! talks of food, mentions of having a family, childe's part gets a teensy bit suggestive includes: fem!reader, dottore and his clones, tartaglia wc: 1,2k

-ˋˏ It’s a popular headcanon that Dottore has a sweet tooth and I’m here to contribute to it bc I’m a firm believer in the Man Bad But Secretly Soft trope.......

-ˋˏ You often find yourself baking desserts for him to eat when he gets home from work and, on the rare occasions that he’s home while you’re baking, you make him taste-test the dessert you’re currently making 

-ˋˏ He’s actually decent at baking (it’s just food science and he’s The Science Guy), however he doesn’t particularly enjoy doing it. But you do! You love doing acts of service for him, which is why you got promoted from housewife to personal-pastry-and-dessert-expert housewife (said endearingly) 

-ˋˏ Good ol’ chocolate chip cookies, maple pudding, red velvet cake, lemon meringue pie, tiramisu, mille-feuille; you'd make so many desserts that he had to buy a chef-grade refrigerator on top of your regular fridge to store them. Not that he minded of course, but sometimes he’d lightly scold you for making so many unhealthy foods (all the while being a hypocrite himself because he’s the one enabling you) 

-ˋˏ Has a mini fridge in his office full of desserts (and the occasional homemade sandwich, for variety). He always has to restock it because his segments always get into it and eat his sweets that you made for him 

-ˋˏ When he tells you about it you end up giving him two extra tupperware containers full of sweets that you insist he gives to his segments, especially the younger ones. If he doesn’t, you’ll just show up to his lab and give your freshly baked desserts to them yourself 

-ˋˏ Sometimes Dottore tries to bake with you, but you always get frustrated that he never makes the desserts look nice. He just takes up space in your shared kitchen when he tries to help; which you tell him that by staying out of your way he’s helping 

-ˋˏ You’re also the designated cook since he doesn’t really have any skills in the kitchen outside of knowing the technical stuff. The man is too busy fiddling with machines and organs to know about how to properly sear a steak 

-ˋˏ His favorite meal of yours is a simple steak paired with a good, dry Malbec. You’re always setting up the table when he gets back from work, to which he always hugs you from the back to greet you. One time you didn’t hear him come in and you accidentally dropped the plate you were holding (you made him eat it as punishment. five second rule) 

-ˋˏ On the rare times he works from home you insist that he doesn’t need to help you with chores, no matter how much he offers (which wasn’t that often to begin with, but at least he offered. like..... once). Instead, he’d get settled on the kitchen table while you wash the dishes, vacuum, etc 

-ˋˏ Some days you’d be in comfortable silence, while on other days you’d listen to him ranting about how irritating his coworkers are, or about how much he wants to fire some of his underlings because they’re “so incompetent”. Thankfully you can calm him down before he,, makes an angry phone call 

-ˋˏ You don’t get the chance to visit him at work that often, so you revel in the times where he’s able to work from home. But since you can’t go see him that often, it means you don’t see his clones either 

 -ˋˏ The older segments would refrain from asking about you (because you’re Prime’s wife, not theirs. he’s yelled at them multiple times about it. bro’s possessive) while the younger ones would consistently bother him about your whereabouts. He insists that he hates it when they ask, but inwardly he imagines how you’d take care of them. (is it to heal his inner child or to imagine how good of a mother you could be? maybe both, but he wouldn’t admit to the former) 

✧✧✧ 

-ˋˏ Childe would have been your housewife if he wasn’t a Harbinger. point blank 

-ˋˏ Buuuut, since he isn’t, he makes sure to take care of you. You’re always cleaning after him, cleaning him sometimes, and overall taking up more tasks than he thought you could (should) chew. Of course, you did it all out of love and didn’t expect him to owe you anything, but he’d feel bad if he didn’t help at least a little bit 

-ˋˏ So once or twice a week (depending on when his schedule allows it) you’ll both be cleaning the house and doing chores together 

-ˋˏ You’re both listening to music while sweeping the floor, reorganizing the pantry, wiping down the counters..... getting as much done as you can before Childe decides he’d rather have you sat up on a counter while he nestles himself closer to you 

-ˋˏ He always buys the best appliances for your sake since you’re the one that’s home most of the time. That one really expensive, cordless vacuum cleaner you saw at the store? He bought it. A duster with a retractable handle that can help you reach the top of shelves without you needing to stand on a chair to clean? Childe bought it before you could even ask. That really cute cherry-shaped deep dish with matching baking utensils you saw at the store together? He’s carrying it to your car right now 

-ˋˏ Though while he does buy really useful things, he balances it out by getting you unnecessary items. Like a frilly pink apron with Kiss the cook embroidered in cursive on it, or a soup ladle that looks like the Loch Ness monster but I digress 

-ˋˏ Childe is 100% a family man- so, as a result, he's thought about having his own family with you. After seeing you indulging Teucer and his siblings’ shenanigans, he absolutely wants to have kids with you and have you do things like read books to them, make them lunch to bring to school, etcetc 

-ˋˏ Loves to come back home from work to you, smelling the fresh aroma of dinner wafting in the air 

-ˋˏ He loves your cooking!! Can’t get enough of it, especially when he comes back from training and he’s all spent. Whether it be your homemade soup, a hearty meaty meal, or a pasta dish he’ll always devour whatever you make 

-ˋˏ You make extra portions of chicken, steak, whatever protein-filled meal when he’s bulking so he can bring leftovers to work to eat them after sparring sessions. It makes everyone else jealous (which is partly his intention lol) 

-ˋˏ Boasts about you to his coworkers and agents below him, always saying “my wife” with a lovesick smile on his face 

-ˋˏ Has a whole bunch of photos of you in his office, ranging from cute candid pictures to professional, framed photos on his desk, and a tasteful polaroid of you in his wallet. Adores showing you off to others (except the photo he has in his wallet, of course. that’s for his eyes only), so much so that sometimes his underlings try to come up with excuses to leave because he goes on and on and on........ what can he say, he loves his cute housewife !!

[iiboronii]

MOONMEL I'M CRYING REAL GENUINE TEARS THANK YOU FOR DRAWING THEM <3 THEY'RE SO CUTE AND YOU DRAW SOOO WELL AAAAAH

HEYYYYYYYY…..@articskele AND @iiboronii.....!!!!! C'MERE GIRLIESSSSSSSSS I HAVE FOOD FOR YOU

TEEHEE YEP I DREW YOUR BIGGERLER BALL OC'S!!!! <3 IM SORRY IT COULDVE BEEN BETTER BUT I WAS IN A RUSH 😭

THEYRE SO PRETTY AGHH 🤩💞

YOU GUYS I LOVE HOW YOU GUYS MET THROUGH ME TEEHEEE!!

ENJOYYYYY!!!! <3

((I wanna draw @naiacs next!! Sorry I didn't have time!!))

[sabrinasopposite]

afterglow (little women version)

prince!tom holland x march!reader

! this story is inspired by the book and movie; little women. Y/N is also inspired by Jo and Amy March, which also includes some quotes of them in this AU.

Summary: Y/N March, one of the sisters from the March family, is spending time alongside her father, who is working for the rightful king in London. She isn't like the glamorous girls who dream of meeting a prince at a ball; she is the kind of girl who loves archery and painting. She dedicates her time to giving lessons to the king's sons, though one of them proves to be a challenge. A challenge that Y/N didn't like.

As minutes passed, the entire ballroom became crowded with elegance and wealth, something that Y/N March couldn't claim. Nevertheless, her father was the right hand of the King, and they didn't suffer as much as the citizens in London who barely had enough food and clothing. Y/N lived in a house with warm meals and clothes, leading a normal life for a young lady. However, she never felt like a conventional lady or woman. 

She didn't fit into society's stereotype of a woman defined by love and elegance. Y/N considered herself a rebellious and boyish girl, much like her dresses, which lacked ladylike colors, and she often carried a bow with arrows on her back. She didn't want to marry merely for financial security that would ultimately belong to her husband; instead, she sought to live her own life and feel the freedom in her veins, and that's what archery represented for her.

Walking around the ballroom in a tight, darkened dress that emphasized her features made her feel like a vivid nightmare. The tight corset was uncomfortable, making her look constricted and ordinary. Her hair was braided, and she felt like a different person, but she knew deep down it was for her father. She wanted to make a good impression on the Holland family and her father, although no one had to know her true feelings or thoughts about the Holland family.

The room echoed with laughter, the clinking of champagne glasses, and classical music from the instruments played in the background. Y/N's eyes scanned the room for sympathy or interest, but nothing appealed to her; it was just another dull night. Leaning against the wall, she delicately brushed her dress with her hand.

"I see Mrs. March all formally dressed up. For what occasion, if I may ask?" The accent teased her ears, and she looked up to meet Harry's gaze. He smiled softly at her, hands clasped behind his back. Y/N's unbothered expression transformed into a beautiful bright smile. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you're here." "Of course, I'm here. It's my father's ball! It would be weird if his son disappeared." The two strolled slowly and calmly around the room. 

"Unless his son stuck his face in a book or in the kitchen for some pastries." Y/N playfully poked her elbow into his arm, and he laughed heartily. "Hey, it was one time! What do you expect of me, not to sneak around for some Victoria Sponge?" "You could have waited like everyone else, but lucky you... you're friends with me, and I stole it for you." Y/N grinned as she stopped to look at him. 

Harry was the only boy in the world of royalty that Y/N liked. He was different, just like her. He didn't care about the world as much as Thomas did, blindly following his father. Maybe it was because Thomas was the oldest son yet behaved like the youngest. Harry was more into science, the history of the world, or interested in the cultures of other countries that he would love to visit one day. Sam was the one who was more observant and calm, keeping to himself. That's what Y/N noticed.

He would sneak around the castle, just to cook or bake something in the middle of the night to give it the next day to the people in the streets who were yearning for it. It was Sam’s hidden secret that Y/N found out but gladly helped deliver the food that Sam made. If his father found out what Sam was doing, he would be in trouble, something that Y/N didn't want to put Sam through.

"Thanks to you, Archer. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be friends with you?" Harry grinned. "Your brother?" Y/N raised her brow. "Sam? That's nonsense. I thought you guys are friendly together, and Paddy likes you as well. Do I need to remind you how his face was when he saw you in archery?" Harry folded his arms, and Y/N chuckled. He looked handsome in his navy blue suit that matched his brown curls. "I am not talking about them; I am talking about your brother who stood me up on his, and may I repeat, his lesson." "Classic Thomas." 

"That's what I am thinking too.’’ ,,Maybe you should confront him, Y/N. I mean, how many times has he stood you up?" Harry asked with a calm yet disappointed voice. He didn't understand why Thomas behaved like that in front of Y/N. "I lost count a while ago. May I remind you that it was your father—the King's decision and kind request—that Thomas would take archery lessons?" "Yeah, to move his ass around and not sip champagne all day and put his face between brea-"

"Harry?!" Y/N's eyes widened in shock as she heard how Harry bragged about his older brother. "You shouldn't say such things about your brother. Maybe I am allowed to say that, but he is still your brother." Y/N glanced at Harry and noticed how his jaw was tensed and his fists were formed together.

"I don't like how he treats you, Y/N. You are my friend, and I really appreciate what your father does for our family. You take time to teach us archery, painting, and all that. You don't do it on purpose; you do it because it is your passion, and that's why I appreciate you as a person."

Y/N's eyes met his, and her heart warmed. She didn't hear it regularly—a praise or empathy over her ideals or interests. People judged her for that. She wasn't the stereotype, and that was something people hated. She was a beautiful girl who was intelligent and remarkable, even a people pleaser. But she wasn't the woman everyone wanted; that's what she thought. "Thank you, Harry." Her attention was snapped when she heard loud laughter from behind; Harry's eyes were fixed on the person lying on the couch, arms wrapped around two ladies covered in beauty and elegance.

His hand held a champagne glass, and he chuckled his charms out. Y/N stared at him, Thomas. Her heart was beating low, and her gaze was fixed on him. How can someone so handsome have such a low personality?

"Go talk to him. I'll look for my Victoria Sponge," Harry pushed Y/N's shoulders while she muttered his name. He walked away, leaving Y/N alone, so she walked over to him.

"Prince Thomas," Y/N said with a sour yet venomous voice, her stare fixed on his behavior. His hair was messed up, and his jacket was open; he looked disheveled, not properly put together. His glance hinted that he was tipsy from the champagne he held in his hand. His attention was on Y/N, his eyes wide. She looked different and beautiful in his eyes, as she always was, but now he saw her as ladylike, and his heart raced.

Thomas composed himself, sitting properly and speaking with a charming, bleary voice. „Y/N." 

"I waited hours for you."

"I don't recall inviting you for a dance," he chuckled, signaling the ladies to walk away, presumably to bring him more champagne. Y/N watched the ladies pass with observing glances that felt like daggers on her back. She rolled her eyes and turned away from Thomas and his childish words. As she walked away, he stood up and almost ran after her. "Y/N, wait!“ "Do you want to know what I honestly think of you?"

"What do you think?" Thomas walked after her, realizing every word she spoke was filled with honesty and stung like arrows. "I despise you.“

He laughed it off, as usual. "Why do you despise me? Just because I missed a lesson? Come on, that's nothing.“ "Because with every chance to be good, useful, and happy, you are faulty, lazy, and-" As Y/N listed his faults, her tones grew harsher and deeper. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, this is interesting."

"Oh yes, very interesting. Selfish people do love to talk about themselves.“ "Oh, now I'm selfish? Do I need to remind you of who you ta-"

"Yes, you are very selfish." Y/N scoffed at Thomas's drunk and childish behavior, despite being the next king of England, not behaving like it. "With your money, talent, beauty, and health." Thomas interrupted her again, pinning his jacket together drunkenly. They didn't realize they were in the midst of people, solely focused on each other. "Oh, my beauty?" Thomas questioned.

"Ah, you like that, you old vanity. With all these good things to enjoy, you can find nothing to do but dawdle your way." Y/N finished her berating, but Thomas drunkenly placed his hand over hers. "I promise I'll be good for you, Archer Y/N. I'll come to your lessons now, Master!" He mocked his voice, making fun of her as usual.

"Aren't you ashamed of a hand like that, Prince Thomas?" Y/N spoke with a disgusted voice and glance.

"No, I'm not." He replied with a self-confident aura. "It looks like it's never done a day of work in its life." She pulled her hand harshly away and looked at him. "I don't understand why you react like that, little March, hmm?“ "To give you some words in your brain instead of that stupid champagne that you sip around and act like this occasion is for you.“ "Which certainly is.“ "It is from the king personally, which you aren't."

"I will be one day, and you will be under my rules," Thomas smirked. Y/N looked into his eyes and shook her head. "I feel really sorry for the people in London, having a king who behaves like a child and doesn't value the things around his life."

"You are just saying that because you're a girl who has nothing and is not loved by a man." Thomas chuckled, making Y/N frown in surprise and a little pain. "You are right, but I'd rather be respected for who I am, even if I couldn't be loved." She turned around and walked out from the crowd towards the exit of the ballroom.

♡

The next morning was calmness flying in dust around the castle, the ball was over and the guest were gone. Toms head ached from a dozen bubbly champagne glasses, and he felt his throat was swollen. He could barely open his eyes through the exhaustion, but he knew that any minute his butler would come in and suggest a fresh, warm breakfast. He got up from his king-sized bed, walked over to the shiny window, and looked at the scenery in front of him—the blooming garden of colorful flowers.

A knock on the door caught his attention, and as he turned around, he saw his butler walking inside. "Prince Thomas, you are awake?" "Yeah, I kind of woke up from the sunshine," he chuckled. "Indeed, it is a beautiful daylight. Nevertheless, your father proposed breakfast for you." "I'll be there in minutes," he nodded with a calm glance at his butler.

The breakfast was delicious, as always; that's what Thomas couldn't complain about. He looked around the room and noticed that his brothers weren't present. "Where are Sam, Harry, and Paddy?" Tom glanced at his father, who was reading with focus on the developments that James offered him. They were invitations to galas, conferences about other kingdoms, or updates on affairs in London. King Dominic looked up to his son, "Around the castle, engaged in their usual activities—something you should participate in, Thomas."

Tom rolled his eyes and mumbled between his sentences, "Do you have anything else to brag about, Father?" "Did you say something?" "No, sir. I'll get myself ready for my archery lesson." "Miss March is giving Paddy his art teachings. I don't think it's your turn for archery today, Thomas," his father pointed out sternly. Tom looked at him and nodded.

It wasn't like Tom despised his father; on the contrary, he loved him. Yet, sometimes, he felt like people expected too much of him. He knew he would be the future king of London, and he realized he often boasted about himself, showcasing only his best side. However, no one saw the real him—the genuine thoughts and feelings he drowned in champagne and partying.

Thomas made his way around the castle and reached the art room. His hand brushed the doorknob, and something paused inside his body. A sudden nervousness rushed through his bloodlines. Was it because of the small fight between him and Y/N? He remembered it vividly. He even knew exactly what he did after she walked out of the ballroom, and how his hands landed on the champagne bottles until his brothers took them away from him.

He felt ashamed of the words he said to her, truly. Now, the realization that she might never talk to him again made it even harder for him to confront his actions. Nevertheless, as he opened the door, expecting hell, he found himself in heaven.

His eyes met the random paintings on canvases, beautifully painted in soft colors. Paddy was sitting next to Y/N, who wore a casual dress that wasn't as tight as last night. Her hair was loosely open, not in a stern high braided bun. She felt like herself—authentic. That's what Tom thought as he observed her. 

Paddy turned his head around, locking eyes with Tom, and his smile brightened even more. "Look, brother! Y/N taught me how to draw our garden with the dozen of flowers!" Paddy was so proud and happy, something Tom couldn't relate to as he felt like a failure. "It looks great, Pads," Tom smiled calmly, but his smile dropped slightly when he noticed Y/N's stare. It was obvious—the "why are you still here" stare.

Y/N cleared her throat and placed her soft hand on Paddy's shoulder. "That was enough for today, Paddy. I hope you enjoyed the day as much as I did." "Yes, it was very delightful with you. I can't wait for our next session!" Paddy laughed with excitement, grabbing the canvas and rushing out of the room to show it to their father. Now, it was just Tom and her alone.

Y/N turned her back toward Tom, starting to clean the small atelier. "What are you doing here?" Her sentence was short and harsh, not soft and calm like before. Tom sighed and touched some stacked canvases with his fingers. "Y/N, I'm sorry for how I behaved." "Have you been drinking again? It doesn't suit you to apologize to an ordinary girl." She walked around the atelier, avoiding all around Tom. She placed the brushes and paintings away, mirroring the way she was avoiding her feelings.

"No, I'm not. I still have a headache from last night, so please don't be hard on me," Tom said as he looked at her. "Well, someone has to do it or not?" she stopped and looked at him. There was a small silence between them until Y/N continued to clean up, "I talked with your father. I won't give you any archery lessons anymore."

Tom's eyes widened. "What? Why?" „because I'm a failure," Y/N stated, avoiding the worried yet shocking glance of Tom. "Jo is in New York being a writer, and I am a failure." "Well, that's harsh to say when you are talented and have so much energy," Tom stated, and Y/N turned around to face him directly in the eyes.

"Talent isn't genius, Thomas. And no amount of energy can make it so. I want to be great, or nothing." Her voice felt flat and harsh for Y/N. She loved art and archery, two things that made her feel herself. Archery made her feel alive, like no one stood in her way. Art was someone she could talk to, a medium to express her thoughts and emotions. ,,I don’t see the point to do the things that aren’t archiving my hopes and dreams while being a women.’’ 

,,What makes you think that Women with dreams cant achieve things?’’ Thomas asked with curiosity. ,,You really ask me that?’’ Y/N frowned her eyebrows. ,,yeah I am asking you that. What women are allowed into the club of geniuses considering you are saying that talent isn’t genius?’’ Thomas walked to a chair and sit himself down on it, not breaking the intimate eye contact of Y/N. 

,,maybe the Brontes? I don’t know.’’ Y/N cleaned her fingers with a tissue. ,,Hm standing a point but who declares whose a genius?’’ ,,Men, I suppose.’’ ,,They’re cutting down the competition. If you may ask’’ ,,Look Thomas I don’t know why you want to have this complicated topic with me.’’

,,i just want to find a way to reasoning with you. I don’t understand why you view yourself like that, you are talen-„ ,,How does it matter anyway? Soon or later I will marry one day a man, who provides the money. One day I will let go of all the things I like because I need to be in the role of a mother.’’ Y/N looks at Thomas with a glance, a glance that Tom noticed how aching it is for her. She knew she said the truth but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. ,,But what is marriage if there is no love in it?’’ Tom looked at her, with eyes that were trapping her.

,,Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn’t something that just happens to a person.’’ Y/N throws the tissue away ,,I think that poets and books disagree on that.’’ Tom stated with confidence and calmness. 

Y/N stared at him, he was just a man. He could say these things but he will never know how it is to be a woman. 

,,Well. I’m not a poet, I’m just a woman. Even though people don’t consider me as a woman, because I don’t fit in the picture of the societies eye, I am still a woman. And as a woman there is no way for me to make my own money or to earn a living or to support my family. Don’t get me wrong I am lucky to be under a warm house with clothes, because my father works his body out for the King, to give me that opportunity to live. Even if I had my own money, which I don’t, that money would belong to my husband the moment we got married. And If we had children they would be his, not mine. They would be his property. So don’t sit there and tell me that marriage isn’t an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you because you are the son of the King of London, but it most certainly is for me.’’ 

Her eyes felt sad, the words she said came out of her deepest heart and she hold her fingers together to reduce the nervous tendency. In her voice Tom felt the acceptance of her life, he could tell that these words that Y/N just told him were words that implanted to every woman that was breathing on earth. 

,,now if you excuse me, I have to go to the library’’ Y/N walked away from Thomas and took her small vest that was laid on her chair. She wrapped it around herself until Tom spoke with a light and calm voice. ,,the things I said yesterday night weren’t meant to be told, I am sorry about that. And I as well feel sorry for the way how you see yourself.’’ Y/N looked with a conflicted eye contact at Thomas but the sudden warm feeling that embraced the words of him on her made her feel calm. ,,I know this sounds hideous but would you allow me to follow you to the library?’’ 

,,you don’t need to sound so formale in front of me Thomas.’’ She chuckled softly.

,,then you don’t need to call me Thomas, it makes me feel old.’’ His face grimaced by the name.

,,so Tommy?’’ She raised her brow.

,,Tom would be alright’’

(its a very old AU that I wrote last December and man... I had to release it)

[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.”