"You drew stars around my scars, but now I'm bleeding..." Gaia Ashmore has lived under the radar of her strict mother all her life. Every aspect of her life - from her fashion sense to her career - is controlled by her mother. And even when Gaia moves across continents for university to somehow lessen her mother's pressure on her, it seems as if she can't escape from her family roots. Ilkay Muller is the antonym of organised. Despite his high school grades only scraping his acceptance into his first choice of university, his intelligence stumps many. With an obscure past and severe daddy issues, Ilkay hopes to make it through without any more added trauma. But a tiny incident can change the fate of the universe forever. And while finding running from their pasts and escaping old wounds, Gaia and Ilkay experience the unexpected. Their tiny incident. Love. • • • "Missing you comes in waves. Tonight, I'm drowning." "Your beauty puts the stars to shame."

[ongoing] what if the boy who ruined your life comes crashing back into it? ✰ ✰ ✰ Briar Elliot's worst fear just came true. Casey Brandt is to blame.

❝I had a conversation with Death, he wants you back ❞ --- At the New Year's Eve party, Quincy Sinclair finds the dead body of Alfred Kingsley III. Resident golden boy and incredibly rich, his death was no accident. By morning, Quincy sees him again - seemingly alive and sitting in the corner of her bedroom. However, only she can see him. Haunted by the ghost of Alfred Kingsley, Quincy is approached by Death himself with a dangerous proposition. If she can solve the mystery of his murder, she'll be granted a single wish - to wish him back to life. With the help of meandering rumours, his suspicious rich friends and the distorted voice of the victim himself, can Quincy uncover the truth? Or, will her ghostly friend be plagued as the dead boy walking forevermore?

"You're atheist," I remind him. "You don't believe in god." "I believe in you," He murmurs, letting the cigarette hang from his lips. "I believe in whatever you believe." He says, letting the confession roll off his tongue as if it were that simple. As if god, the devil, heaven, hell-as if none of it really had meaning to him. "That's not how it works," I mutter as we walk down a few more alleyways-the city of Manhattan coated in a light blanket of snow. Henry Vitiello had never had anything to pray for, that is, until he met me-the only thing that had ever opened his mind up to the possibility of religion "Isn't it?" He argues, taking the cigarette by his middle and pointer finger before blowing the smoke out. "I'II dip my hands in holy water if it means I could touch you." "You'd probably burn." 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, the reaper. He's a prick. An asshole. A pretentious son of a bitch. He's not perfect. He's not even decent. But he's hers. She could be a bottle labeled poison but he was an alcoholic, and he had drunk her empty. Now he was hungover. 𝐉𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, the healer. She's known to be the perfect good girl, with perfect grades and a perfect life with a perfect family. They didn't know that behind the gated doors of their billion dollar estate, she was strapped down to a chair every night and picked apart just to be put back together in time for supper. 𓆩♡𓆪 star-crossed; adjective (of a person or a plan) thwarted by bad luck. 'star-crossed lovers' and that, they were. So they fucked under those very stars that tried so desperately to break them apart. 𓆩♡𓆪 ‼️DISCLAIMER ‼️ BOOK REFERENCES TO MARA DYER, SHATTER ME, MIND FUCK, ETC ARE ALL INTENTIONAL SO DONT BE RUDE. AS FOR TRIGGER WARN