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azsazz · 6 hours ago

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Destination Unknown (Part 2)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Reqs: destination-unknown I still cannot let this one go, the best thing I’ve ever read on this app 😭 I wish he would choose us in another part // Writing this to notify you about the urgent need for pt2 of the following Rhys fics: waiting for the creation of Destination unknown

Warnings: N/A

Word Count:

(Part 1)

Notes: It's been over 2 years since part 1 😅 If any of the OG's are here, you're troopers! ily 💙 breaking my own heart with this one too

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“The girl that saved us. She’s my mate.” The words rattle in your head again and again and a-godsdamned-gain.

The crinkle of the paper in your hands draws your attention to the present. You sigh, dropping the paper to the familiar deep cherry desk. The one that you’ve been sitting at for the last fifty years while the man you loved was trapped by a vicious witch under the mountain.

This place—Rhysand’s office within the House of Wind—had once been your place of solace. Your beacon of hope. You and the High Lord of the Night Court had spent a healthy amount of time in this room of the house, first as his second in command, and then as his lover. It had been one of the places you swore you could still feel him when he was prisoner beneath her reign.

You had taken over like any second would, made sure that Velaris stayed hidden and safe. There weren’t many executive decisions to be made in the last fifty years, menial things like the agreement to build a new wing of the Rainbow, making sure that the city could still deal and trade without being snuffed out.

Now, this office serves as a reminder. A reminder of what you lost. The male that you gave your heart to, the same one who’d survived the horrors of Amarantha’s reign, made it back to the Night Court safely, with another woman’s name on his lips.

Feyre, he’d admitted, violet eyes wide and haunted with not only the horrors he so desperately tried to lock away, but with shock and surprise. He found his mate, the voice in your head rings again.

As much as it tears your heart to shreds, Rhysand deserves nothing more. You’ve always had an inkling that you weren’t his mate. He’d occasionally make offhanded comments about dreams he had, visions, he’d sometimes call them. Listening to the horrors he’d been through, surrounded by the rest of his Inner Circle, those sights had made sense.

It’s been two weeks since Rhysand has been back. Recovering. Mor had taken it upon herself as caregiver to her cousin. Cassian and Azriel visited the High Lord in his wing of the house often. Amren, too. The side you couldn’t bring yourself to pay visit to.

He’s asked for you. You can’t count the number of times Mor has barged into this very office—the one you rarely leave these days—and demanded that you come see him. That you’re hurting him worse by staying away. Now that Rhysand is back, that Amarantha is gone for good and the city no longer has to hide, there are things to do, cities to check in on, damage that needs to be assessed, and courts that need correspondence.

It's given you an escape. You can’t muster up the confidence to go visit Rhysand just as he can’t do the same to visit you. You’re terrified of what he’ll say, the very thing you’ve been trying to wrap your head around since the night of his return. To accept the inevitable.

That he’s no longer yours.

You smooth the wrinkled paper out on the desk, trying to refocus. It’s late. A gentle breeze sweeps in through the balcony doors, a chill that skitters down your back. The stars and moon shine brightly in the sky, and for a moment, you envy their light, their happiness. It seems that they’re even brighter since the return of the High Lord.

You can’t help that your mind wanders. To her. You wonder what she looks like, how she acts. She must be confident, strong-willed. She must be beautiful. You hope more than anything that she’s kind. She must be, for a human to give her life to save the Fae, the same ones that have abandoned the human-realm for their own selfish reasons.

In a way, it makes sense. Of course, the female who could take down someone as powerful as Amarantha would be Rhys’ mate.

There’s a soft knock on the study room door. One that makes you freeze. It’s not Mor, because she wouldn’t have knocked, she would have stormed into the room, he bouncy, blonde hair swishing behind her shoulders and a fire in her eyes. The both of you have leaned on each other for fifty years, you consider her one of your closest friends. But not even she could convince you to see Rhysand.

You’ve tried, too. Tried to make it to that side of the house, to where, admittedly, you’d slept in his bed the entirety of his time away. When you could sleep, that is. Surrounded by the night-chilled scent of him, lingering on the pillows.

The abrupt change from not sleeping there at all has been taxing.

You stand when the door cracks, busy yourself with the papers scattered around the desk. They’re organized perfectly, but you leaf through them again. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not even when he enters the room fully and the doors snicks behind him.

Your name is a mummer. Relief? Maybe. Sorrow. Yes. The. Sound makes your throat tighten. You never thought you’d hear your name on his lips again.

The papers in your hands crinkle again.

You don’t know what to say. Your throat is clogged with emotion and your heartbeat is a racing mess. Your knees are seconds from giving out. Your fingers are trembling. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face him again.

You can feel those violet eyes on you like you have a thousand times before. Can feel the way he’s drinking you in. Or maybe he’s comparing you to how you looked the night he left, the same disheveled hair but for a much different reason. You’re sure you look worse with the dark circles under your eyes and the way your shoulders sag like there’s a hundred pounds draped across them.

Suddenly, you feel underdressed. You should have cleaned up your appearance, taken a shower, ran a brush through your hair.

Tears sting your eyes when your sabotaging mind tells you that it no longer matters.

You stack the papers together and tap them on the desk. “I’ve kept everything as much of the same as I could.” It’s difficult to admit, but talking about what’s been going on in the City of Starlight is a safe topic. Surely, he will want to know, will want to visit soon, show that he’s still the strong and in charge High Lord he was. “You’ll read about it in my reports.”

You say it like you’re ready to resign your position. You’d hate it if you could no longer help the city that you’ve loved and spent the last fifty years managing. Your heart breaks a little in your chest.

You’ve spent every moment since Rhysand’s come home writing the report. Spent every day of the last fifty years writing it, to be honest. In case there was a day that he’d come back. You haven’t left out a single detail.

The past two weeks have been spent refining it, removing some of the more inappropriate stories and comments now that he’s found his other half.

He says your name again, louder this time. You can hear the hurt in his tone, but he doesn’t move closer.

You continue to brush him off. Your head is spinning and you can barely breathe. You don’t know what to do. It feels as if the two of you are strangers. “Now that you’re back, I need to check on all of the other cities and camps within the Court,” your voice is tired. You don’t know what to think. He’s back, and he has a mate. Someone he’s destined to fall in love with. It hurts. “I’ve sent missives. I’m headed out in the morning.”

“Please,” he begs, and the emotion in his voice gives you pause. Makes your heart break. You know it isn’t easy, to be so vulnerable after having to be so strong for half a century. Tears sting your eyes. The tips of Rhysand’s shoes enter your line of vision. “Please, look at me.”

You shake your head and swallow thickly. If you look at him, see the devastation in his eyes, worse, the hope for his mate, it will destroy you. You know it will.

“Autumn has written, too,” you continue, but your voice trembles so much you’re not sure you can continue. You can gallivant all around the continent, but it won’t change the fact that the male you love is back, and has a mate. Eventually, you’ll come home, and when you do, maybe she’ll be here, maybe they’ll be joyous and in love and— “They’re asking for resources, to help rebuild.”

This time, he doesn’t hesitate. An unknown force drives him around the edge of the desk, and before you know it the papers in your hands are hitting the wood and you’re facing him, your chin tilting up by his gentle hands.

Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and you clamp them shut before they latch onto those violet pools you know so well. You don’t want to see the heartbreak in them. You don’t want to see the remorse. You can’t. You’re not ready to give him up, because he’s all that. You’ve ever loved and—

“Please,” he says brokenly, so helplessly that you can’t help yourself.

You peek open your eyes.

And Rhysand looks utterly crushed.

His own eyes are filled with tears. Fingers trembling as his thumbs stroke your cheeks, catching the unstoppable rivers.

He looks almost exactly like he had the night he left. Older, somehow. His violet eyes aren’t lit with excitement and arousal, but burnt out with the horrors of what he’s been through. You can’t even imagine what happened to him in those fifty years, but you know Rhysand well enough to know that he would have done anything to protect his people, to help in any way that he could.

There are no words to be exchanged. You and him have always been like this, on the same page. You know exactly what he’s thinking, and you know exactly what he is.

You sob into him as he presses his mouth against yours. You cling to his arms, digging your nails into his skin. It’s a desperate kiss, too harsh and your teeth clack together in a disjointed plea. It feels nothing like you know. It feels final.

Like this is the last taste of him you’re ever going to get.

“Darling,” his voice breaks when you part. In this moment, you know. That this is all real. Rhysand is back. He’s back and he has a mate.

“I know Rhys,” your words are a wet whisper, and the smile that you try to force onto your face wobbles and falls. You clutch his arms tightly. You don’t want to let go but you know that you have to. “I know.”

#rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand/reader #rhys x reader #rhys/reader #rhys angst #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotarxreader #rhys #azsazz

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orimuraa · 1 day ago

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Feel the bite between my jaw, so tasty - Park Sunghoon

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆sometimes, your boyfriend just can’t help his desires ⨾

۶ৎ vampire!sunghoon x fem!reader┆suggestive, fluff?┆kissing, petnames, mentions of blood, jealousy, one gross dude┆wc 595

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: ermm…first suggestive work ig…i hope its not weird lmao 😭 reblogs are appreciated >.<

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

you weren’t sure what exactly was going on with sunghoon but you knew something was bugging him.

he was strangely silent this evening and he barely interacted with anyone. he just..kept staring out at nothing, a look in his eyes that your couldn’t recognize.

at first, you thought that maybe he was just very tired or that the wine from earlier was starting to get to him.

but as the evening went on, you noticed something else about sunghoon. his gaze was fixated on you and only you now and his eyes were crimson colored.

with one slight nod of his head, you knew exactly what he wanted. so, you start walking in the direction of your boyfriend finally connecting all the dots.

when you’re almost there, you’re stopped by someone.

“hey y/n! long time no see!” jihoon smiles, holding your arm a little too tightly for your liking.

“o-oh yeah..hi jihoon..” you mumble, trying to scoot away from the man as you were feeling very uncomfortable around him.

suddenly, jihoon’s grip tightens, making you wince a bit before taking a breath and looking for sunghoon.

unfortunately, you don’t spot your boyfriend and a sense of panic runs through your body.

before jihoon could get any closer, a hand yanks jihoon’s arm off of yours with ease.

you easily recognize the smell of the cologne and you have never been more happy and relieved to see sunghoon there.

his eyes have gotten even more dark since you saw them and he has a look of fury in his eyes.

“god, some humans really need a lesson on when someone’s uncomfortable,” he snarls, glaring at jihoon before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the room.

you stay silent as sunghoon leads you to the balcony outside for some fresh air.

“i’m sorry-”

“thank you-”

you both accidentally interrupt each other and he motions for you to go first.

“thank you hoonie, i was trynna get to you and i swear, he just stopped me and i-”

sunghoon quickly shuts you up with a kiss, leaning in and gently placing his hand on the small of your back.

“princess i don’t mind. all that matters is that i got to you in time and that you’re okay,” he smiles, kissing your forehead.

the full moon was peeking out of the clouds and the light perfectly illuminated sunghoon’s ethereal features.

something in the air changed as sunghoon’s eyes filled with want and desire.

you nod gently, already knowing what he wants before he’s on you.

his lips attack at your neck and you shiver at the small and delicate kisses he places on your neck and collarbone.

“oh princess you smell so good,” he sighs, kissing your neck once more before pulling away to look at you.

“can i?” he asks softly, a bit of hesitation in his voice. you smile and nod.

“just a little,” to which he hums in agreement.

sunghoon then gently wraps his hands around your waist again, kissing a certain spot on your neck before biting down.

at first, it hurts, his fangs piercing into your neck, but it soon starts to feel good.

“oh you’re blood is so sweet baby,” he hums from your neck but all you can do is just shudder.

when he pulls away, he licks the spot once before kissing it and straightening himself out.

he wipes the remaining blood from his lips and grins like an idiot.

sunghoon pulls you into an embrace before kissing your head again, whispering:

“i’ll love you forever and always.”

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐉𝐢𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy, @hyukabean, @annybah, @ijustwannareadstuff20, @chaeneu, @17ericas, @firstclassjaylee, @riribelle, @right-person-wrong-time, @miukidoll

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goldfades · 2 days ago

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melo smau 👀😛

youruser charlotte, nc

Liked by melo, lafrance, gelo and 19,002 more

youruser | digi-cam saw it first! 🎀 tagged: friend1, friend2, melo

july 18th, 2024

View all 9,971 comments

[PINNED] melo | bagged my fine shyt 🥰🥰🥰

↳ youruser im gonna block u whats wrong w u😐 DO NOT PISS ME OFF

↳ melo sry i bagged my beautiful wifey, that better?

↳ youruser fix that attitude then we'll talk

↳ melo I'M SO SORRY MY BEAUTIFUL QUEEN 😭😭😭😭

↳ gelo oh nah....

fan001 | A MELO HARD LAUNCH ON A RANDOM TUESDAY????? WHAAAATTTT??????

fan002 | sis fr secured the walking highlight reel 🔥

fan003 | not the city girls losing this summer 😭 WE LOST HERRRR

fan004 | girl blink twice if you need help 💀

↳ melo she living lavish, ain’t no saving needed 😎

fan005 | manifested the tall, rich, nba king—iconic behavior. good on u queen<3

fan006 | sis ain’t just courtside, she court OWNER now 🔥

zo | pray for her y’all, he don’t ever stop talking fr

↳ melo shut up thats not true

fan007 | MOST ICONIC WAG RN?? like possibly EVER, wow.

↳ youruser def not more iconic than t-swift tho

↳ melo yes, you are 💀

fan008 | this the W we been waiting for, PERIODDDDDD BABE 😍

fan009 | oh she pulled the lamelo ball bag??? queen behavior 😌💅

gelo | my boy finally settled down, who woulda thought 😭

↳ melo ur making me seem like some typa whore

↳ gelo are u being fr rn

↳ melo i gave up hot girl summer for her 💘💋

↳ zo oh man we lost him now

↳ gelo hot girl summer??? the kiss emoji?? the PINK HEART?? WHO ARE YOU?

fan010 | our girl really said ‘baller only’ 😭 love that for her

fan11 | laMELLOVED. we lost him y’all 💔

fan12 | she passed the vibe check or nah? 👀

↳ fan13 she's actually his age so thats a step up from last time for sure!!!

↳ fan14 NAHHHHHHHHH HE JS GOT VIOLATED 💀

melo charlotte, nc

Liked by youruser, lafrance, zo and 127,983 more

melo | LATELY... tagged: youruser

july 18th, 2024

[PINNED] youruser | nba wag era

↳ melo best wag yet

↳ youruser and ur last i hope????? the fuck??

fan001 | melo got a lil soft spot huh 🥹 love that for him

fan002 | melo cuffed?? city boys down astronomically 💔

fan003 | first gelo drops and then this???? the balls stay WINNING

fan004 | we lost a soldier today. he gone forever 😭

fan005 | bro fr looked at her and said 'triple B = bae before ball' 💀

fan006 | so thats why he's been playing so good

↳ youruser that cookie GOOD.

↳ melo it's the cranberry juice

↳ fan007 STTTOOPPPP EWWWWWW

fan008 | watch him drop ‘she my peace’ in the next interview 😭

fan009 | don’t fumble her like a bad pass, my boy 😭

fan010 | nah this def his soft era, i feel it coming, look at how aesthetic his post is

↳ youruser you call that aesthetic?? huh???

↳ melo 😔 i'm trying...

fan11 | she must be special bc mellow don’t post NOBODY 😂

fan12 | next post gonna be matching fits just wait 😭

↳ melo how'd you know...

fan13 | bro gonna be in the gym posting ‘doing it for her’ vibes 😂

fan14 | 6’7"

#lamelo ball #lamelo ball x reader #basketball #nba

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kidneybones · 2 days ago

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My thoughts on sonamy, shadamy, sonadow that No one asked for

I do like Sonamy when it's done with genuine respect and that deep feeling of love for each other. They've been through it all and stuck up for each other. I really like Amy's new outlook on spreading love to the world, by being herself and the most supportive friend you know. And having that replace the overbearing obsession personality they made her have for like, too long. And Sonic now shows and even voices how he respects and even admires her. No longer actively avoiding her when their paths cross. When I see them shipped that's what I like to see.

Ok anyway they wouldn't be my preferred ship anyway. In like a totally fandom/fanfiction way their ideals on relationships just don't match. Sonic is not going to slow down even for Amy, and I just don't like versions of her that will "wait for him". She deserves better!! 😭😭😭 She deserves the love and attention she yearns and I can only imagine neither of them betraying their ideals like that. So... Sonamy.... Very cute but not the best and wouldnt last.

Now when you have Shadow. Here's the thing. I see him as truly, undoubtedly, able to be in either situation.

With Sonic, Shadow is the only person that would ever be able to keep up with him. And have no need to "slow down". In the version where he loves Sonic I don't even think he'd have that thought . Why would he. They are perfectly able to be free together. The witty banter, the competitiveness, the one upping. Just their way of flirting and showing love.

And if it's Amy he's in love with, Shadow is 💯% able and willing to stay in place just for her. He can't believe someone has that genuine kindness, along with her fierceness when she's ready to bring it on! Amy could be her loving self, and Shadow would take it all in. Her ability to be compassionate and understanding, we know are traits Shadow admires the way we know he is able to stay by someone's side. I can see Amy so happy with someone she can spend time with, share her hobbies with, and gets along with so well. She already sees the side of Shadow many people don't, even when he's trying to hide it. But the way his walls can fall just around her I just know they could find love and happiness together.

I hope you can tell my bias and I absolutely have 0 expectations of any Shadamy and Sonadow actual cannon happening. This is like, specifically what these ships would be like in the stage play my brain makes up.

And of course, you can't leave out polycule shipping. Personally it's not a ship I have specific interests in, but the ensuing hijinks that come from it are so sweet/hilarious I openly welcome seeing.

#amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonamy #sonadow #shadamy

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oceanista08 · 2 days ago

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[5] Crush ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭s.suho x reader

School is always bustling in the morning, but in your mind, everything seems to revolve around one person—Sung Suho, your deskmate.

He is always full of energy, friendly to everyone, and has a special talent that everyone admires: drawing.

Suho draws very well, but the strange thing is that you see Suho usually only draw ants or his family. But the way he draws is so vivid that you can't take your eyes off him.

You never dared to admit that you had a little… crush on him. Sitting next to Suho every day was a joy mixed with anxiety.

Watching him draw, hearing him laugh, even just Suho propping his chin up and looking out the window—all of it made your heart race.

You tried to stay calm, but then his eyes met yours, and everything turned into chaos.

Suho didn't notice. He was still as carefree as ever, drawing on the margins of books, exchanging homework with you, not knowing that every time your hands accidentally touched, you had to pretend like nothing was happening.

You tried to fill your schedule with all sorts of activities, hoping that being busy would make you think less of him. But no matter how hard you tried, you were still drawn to him like a magnet.

"What are you looking at?" Suho suddenly spoke, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You were startled, your eyes flicking down to his notebook. A sketch appeared—it was you. You were sitting with your arms propped up on the table, staring off into the distance.

"This…?" You stuttered.

"Oh, I was just drawing for fun. You have a nice profile." Suho chuckled lightly, completely unaware that your heart was about to jump out of your chest.

You swallowed hard, quickly turning away, but your burning cheeks gave you away. You couldn't concentrate on the lecture anymore, hoping that Suho wouldn't notice your embarrassment.

But unfortunately, he did.

Suho propped his chin up and looked at you, his lips slightly curling up. "Hey, your face is so red… Are you crushing on me?"

You quickly shook your head, but that only made him laugh even harder. Oh my god, someone save you from this situation!

In the days that followed, you tried to avoid Suho, but you couldn't deny that his joke kept lingering in your mind.

You searched online for things he liked, unconsciously listening to what he said to his friends, just so you could join in the conversation as naturally as possible.

But the more you tried to act normal, the more you felt like an idiot.

Then one late afternoon, when the classroom was almost empty, you sat down to finish your homework. Suho suddenly sat down next to you, took out a pencil, and continued to draw something on his notebook.

"Drawing again?" You asked quietly.

Suho didn't answer right away, just pushed the notebook towards you. Inside was another picture—you, but this time there was a small line below it 'I like you too.'

Your heart skipped a beat. You looked at Suho, saw that he was smiling, but his eyes were shining with sincerity.

"I'm not joking." Suho spoke softly, his voice softer than ever.

You couldn't help but smile, the feeling of shyness disappeared, replaced by joy. "So… can I officially become your special person?"

Suho laughed, nodding. "Of course. And from now on, you'll be my second favorite drawing model."

"What? Not the most?"

"Not at all! Ants are still my top choice."

You laughed along, feeling like the whole world suddenly became more beautiful than ever. All worries and concerns disappeared, leaving only joy in knowing that, finally, Suho felt the same way as you did.

I don't know what I'm writing....

yeah... I love the Sungs family so much 😭😭

the divider is made by @thecutestgrotto

#solo leveling ragnarok #dream.✧˖*°࿐#sung suho #sung suho x reader #sung suho x you #sung suho x y/n #SL:R

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mingoooossii · 2 days ago

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Y. Ga Min headcanons.

Kdrama: study group

Warnings: fluff, messy writing??(not exaggerating) not really structured

A/n: word vomit basically. i had LOT of thoughts so yeah it's messy (i wanted to write a lot more but i stopped myself) 🫥 I hope it's readable atleast but anyways I love ga min he's so adorable. also tagging my pookie @slytherinshua

Words: 755

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Before dating.

• you two started off as just classmates (one that he admired)

• you were pretty, kind AND smart!!!

• how could anyone not like you??

• though that admiration soon grew into something more

• the way his heart tightens a little whenever you meet his eyes

• or the way he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on you even during lessons

• he couldn't figure out why (might even conclude that he's sick)

• i feel like he wouldn't even realise that he has a crush until Se hyeon points it out (bless his soul)

• *short circuits*

• at first, he wouldn't know what to do (he's only been interest in studies his whole life, don't blame him-)

• but i can see him be more shy around you after that

• he tries to be discreet but fails

• exposes himself without even realising it 😭 (are we surprised)

• he's just a cutie, okay?

• also wouldn't think of the possibility that you might actually like him back???

• you most definitely confessed first (after all the hints you've dropped, you got impatient)

• surprised that you actually like him back (but is also very happy)

• he'd want to be the absolute best boyfriend to you 🥹🥹

⊹ ࣪ ˖ In a relationship.

• after getting together with you, he'd want to be romantic

• the kind that makes you swoon at every step

• takes inspiration from mangas (we're talking about GRAND gestures, it's just so amazing to him)

• but eventually gives up after a disapproving talk with Se hyeon (and an even more disapproving glance from Ji wu)

• he's trying his best okay :((

• but he's actually more charismatic than what he gives himself credit for

• the type to make you shy with his actions which he doesn't even consider as romantic

• unintentional rizz??

• notices every little thing about you

• you got a haircut? he notices and compliments you

• you got a new hair clip? he buys you several cute ones saying it would fit you

• this also applies to his memory btw

• he'd remember the little things you'd say (even if it's not that important to you)

• because it's important to him

• also crazy eye contact

• yes he'd be shy but nothing beats his eye contact, it's just so important to him

• doesn't realise how much it flusters you 🫠

• loves affection

• hugs, kisses, headpats whatever it is he LOVES it

• but he does has a soft spot for headpats or just you simply running your hand through his hair

• he has insanely soft hair so it kind of became your habit to touch his hair whenever

• the first time you did it, he was kind of baffled

• but after that he began to love it and even crave it (your hands were just so comforting)

• so please give him headpats!! (or else he'll stare at you with his boba eyes until you do, yes this is a threat)

• though he, himself is somewhat on the shy side with affection, he loves to hold your hand

• like i said earlier, he finds your hands warm and comforting so he feels at ease whenever he holds your hand

• he also likes it when you compliment him

• definitely the type to think back on it before giggling to himself (he's so cute help)

• study dates are an absolute must!!

• loves it when you help him with his doubts (definitely stares at you with his shiny eyes when you explain something)

• he gets to spend time with you and study at the same time, it's perfect to him.

• he's not really the type to get jealous

• though he does have his moments, he trusts you so that's what matters

• but he won't hesitate to step in if he sees that you're uncomfortable in any way

• tries not to get into a fight but absolutely will if it's necessary

• will introduce you to his mom pretty early on in your relationship

• he'd be a bit worried about it, thinking she's gonna disapprove

• though she wasn't exactly ecstatic when she found out, she wouldn't express it

• but she'd end up liking you after seeing that you were a positive influence (and you made him genuinely happy, so that's all that matters to her)

gen taglist: @mayflyfr

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 days ago

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what did you think about wiege miss raven …

It was cute 🥰

BRO 💀 LUKA IS SO HOPELESSLY IN LOVE AND DOWN BAD FOR HYUNA… He’s smiling like a kid in a candy store and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush when a GUN is pointed at his head??? Wanting to run to her and embrace her anyway, with zero regard for his own situation or how she might react negatively to him??? Kissing her missing poster (even though kissing isn’t really a thing in their society?) He’s literally SO mentally ill and obsessed with her… This is toxic and codependent het, I KNOW IT IS 👁️👄👁️

The song this time was admittedly not my favorite, honestly (its tone is sort of haunting)—but I love what it represents… A pure lullaby, holding all the hope for a peaceful and happy future. It’s probably one of the few songs Luka ever sang without intent to manipulate or harm his duet partner.

I loved seeing more gaps in the story being filled in!! Mizi after being rescued and Hyuna trying to calm her down, Hyunwoo’s presence in general, Hyuna competing in Alien Stage, Luka and the other children in Anakt Garden… Ooogh, and those flashes to an alternate universe where everyone is alive, well, and involved in their passions… Luka and Hyuna with their matching rings (not sure if they’re promise bands, engagement rings, or wedding rings)?? It was nice but I feel like I might not be as invested in their relationship if that AU lacks the ✨ spice ✨ of being enemies.

LITTLE LUKA WAS SO PRECIOUS BUT ALSO SUCH A LONER LOSER OTL Laying his head against her… Him sitting under that tree alone and huddled up, counting his fingers to pass the time… Hyuna casually joining him… The pure joy that brings him… Hyuna going in for what seems to be a hug, only for the scene to cut to her body slumping on his AFTER BEING SHOT WHILE PROTECTING HIM 💀 That was absolutely FOUL…

TILL, MY BELOVED SON… He didn’t show up a lot this song, but I loved seeing him having so much freedom and creativity. Spray painting, drawing, just acting like a Normal Human Being and not constantly lashing out and being violently subdued 💦 I always feel like I’ve been punched in the gut myself when he’s harmed. Poor guy… He deserves all the happiness in the world.

dhjsvajFagfDah DONmT yhINK i FORgoT MIZI eiThER. Girliepop is fr going through it??? Still having trauma visions of Sua… LOSING HYUNA NOW… and now she’s left with that fucker whose ass she beat in a fit of rage 😭 which does NOT bode well. THE MURDER IN MIzi’S EYES AT THE ENd, HOLY ShIT. I am half expecting the next installment to just be her wailing on Luka, maybe blaming him for what happened to Hyuna and still holding a grudge for using Sua’s death in such a despicable way.

Hyuna’s final words to Luka were so 👌 It wasn’t too long, it wasn’t too short… It was the perfect length and it conveyed everything she needed to tell him. How important he truly is to her, how she hates him because she loves him; he is and always was her one and only weakness, how all she wishes in her final moments is for Luka to live life to its fullest—even the ugly bits. That he should forgive himself and love himself no matter what…

“Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself… Again and again, endlessly. Because everything… begins from there.”

P.S. I feel like I definitely got lost on some parts of the story 😅 I wasn’t sure how to interpret that scene where Luka was covered in blood and there were a bunch of his dead clones (?) in tanks?? Is the implication supposed to be that the aliens were trying to make the perfect performer and the Luka we know now is the ideal test tube baby…? I see his hand on what appears to be a control panel of some kind?? So did he accidentally kill the clones?? And I’m not sure why the random gunman tried to shoot Luka. Isn’t Hyuna the leader of the resistance? Why didn’t she command them to stop? Why did she throw herself in harm’s way instead? Was it a spur of the moment or adrenaline fueled move? Did the gunman really dislike Luka or what he represents + want to kill him so badly they disregarded orders to let him go?

P.P.S. Sorry to Ivan fans… I do not have much to remark on other than the opinion I have always held, which is “Man has killer eyelashes.”

P.P.P.S. I actually didn’t cry! 👍 vxjsneksksk I live for angst like this, so I was eating it all up like a bag of chips.

Really looking forward to seeing where things will go from here on out! The resistance is lacking a leader now; will Mizi step up?! What’s going to happen to Luka, is he going to be taken as a hostage and slowly come around to join the resistance? How are the aliens going to retaliate? Will the competitor even continue at this rate? So many interesting questions!

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minorlyatfault · 1 day ago

Text

𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 !

p. jackson x child of demeter!reader

only want to fix it with a kiss on the lips,

but i think i might,

take a bite !

𝓦arnings: grammatical errors. ooc(?). my attempt in being poetic. talks ab leaving camp.

𝓝otes:

001. to that one random girl who let me borrow her dictionary earlier at the café while i was writing this, thank you😭😭 (i forgot to ask for her name or ANYTHING)

002. cherry cherry cherry cherry

003. def a guardian angel

sunlight passed through the leaves to cast dappled patterns across the picnic blanket spread between the roots. the cherry trees danced in the soft summer air, the branches weighted with juicy fruit.

you sat opposite percy, a bowl of newly picked cherries between you. he picked one up, rolling it in his fingers, investigating it as if it contained some deep secret.

"you know," he said, looking up at you with that crooked grin, "i think i like it here more than any other place in camp."

you raised an eyebrow. "more than the lake?"

percy paused, then nodded. "yeah. i mean, the lake is fine & all, but this," he waved his hand around at the cherry trees, the small square of green you'd cut out of nothing with your own two hands. "this is more.. okay."

you snorted at his statement.

it was. this wasn't just part of camp half-blood; it was part of you. a part of your soul that had been buried in the roots, in the flowers, in the fruit that grew sweeter each summer. you had sown it yourself, tended to it with the same patient reserve your mother, demeter, had taught you.

& somewhere, somehow along the way, it had grown into yours & percy's.

not formally. not in any manner you could speak. but it was in the way he seemed to always end up here, like a tide drawn in. in the way you reserved the reddest cherries for him, even when you swore you didn't. in the way he looked at you now, like there was nowhere else he'd prefer.(he sometimes jokes about making blue cherries)

you extracted a cherry from the basket, spinning the stem around your fingers. "why is this place so okay?" you asked, your voice teasing.

percy let out a soft snort of laughter. "what, you want me to go all sappy about some trees?"

you grinned. "perhaps."

he tossed his cherry pit into the grass & stretched out on the blanket, hands behind his head. “fine. it’s peaceful. it smells good. &…” he turned his head to look at you, something unreadable visible in his sea-green eyes. “you’re here.”

your breath hitched.

it wasn’t fair, really, the way he did that. said things like that so casually, like he didn’t know what they do to you.

you swallowed, eyes on the cherry in your hand. "do you. . . ever consider leaving?"

percy flinched. "camp?"

you nodded, still looking at the fruit. "yeah. just… escaping. no gods, no monsters. just… us."

the words felt dangerous, even as you said them. he knows you didn't want to leave permanently. he knows you don't want to abandon camp, your cherry trees, the strawberry patch, your half siblings, annabeth, clarisse, will, nico, grover, chiron.

a break? definitely. the half-bloods have experienced war, not once. lost many. you know percy is exhausted. with all the quests, the gods. he led wars. he mourned(you all did). you remembered the first time he came to camp. clueless of the half blood life, the sparks in his eyes, shined. he was like a fire that refuses to go out.

this is the price he's paying for simply existing. said the gods.

percy was silent for a long moment. when he finally spoke, his voice was gentler. softer. "yeah. i think about it all the time."

your heart tightened. "really?"

he looked away from the sky again. "yeah. but i don't think we'd ever really be able to get away from it, you know?"

you knew. gods, you despised that you knew.

demigods weren't cut out for peaceful lives. no matter how much you wanted to hope otherwise.

percy jerked up, grasping another cherry. but he didn't pop it into his mouth; he held it in front of you, an unspoken offering.

you hesitated, then leaned forward, biting into the fruit he held out to you. his fingers touched your lips▰only for an instant, hardly more than a suggestion▰but it made heat unfold in your chest nonetheless. you heart began hitting, punching, slapping your lungs & rib cage. beating so hard that it hurts.

percy grinned. "see? fleeing wouldn't be so terrible."

you swallowed, heart pounding. perhaps it was the angle of the sun on his face, or perhaps the way time seemed to be holding its breath, but something inside you burst. like a cherry when it gets squished.

before you had time to think twice, you leaned in, pressing your lips against his.

percy stopped in mid-motion for half a second. long enough for uncertainty to seep in▰but then his hand wrapped around your cheek, pulling you closer, deeper. the kiss was slow to start, tentative, like the manner in which the waves of the sea crash against the beach. but then he breathed against your lips, tilting his head to one side, & then it wasn't slow anymore.

your fingers went to his shoulders, curling into the collar of his shirt as he drew you onto his lap. the basket of cherries fell over, abandoned, fruit rolling across the blanket. his arms around your waist, holding you tight against him as his mouth worked against yours▰hungered, urgent, like he's been waiting as long as you had. like he's been craving your lips for decades as long as you had craved his'.

the flavor of cherries hung between you, sweet & intoxicating.

percy pulled back just far enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing unsteady. "we're going to be late for dinner," he whispered, a lazy smile pulling at his mouth.

you laughed, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "perhaps we should simply run away, then."

his hold on your waist tightened ever so slightly. "tempting."

you kissed him again, slow & lingering, as the cherry blossoms above you continued dancing.

perhaps you would take a bite.

#vi's basket ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #pjo hoo toa

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mvrlqni · 16 hours ago

Text

SWEETEST OF DREAMS

pairing — hwang in-ho x barista!reader

synopsis — in-ho phones your number almost immediately and the two of you hit it off quite quickly with the night ending with you in his bed.

warnings — nsfw, porn with plot, dacryphilia, he gets FREAKY (not really), dom in-ho, sub reader, he wants that cookie so effing bad, age gap, 40’s in-ho, 20’s reader, soft in-ho, aftercare yay, sort of proof-read so might have mistakes

wc — 1.5k

AN — now why’d i disappear like that 🌚, anywaysss i think it was very obvious that smut would win in the poll so here it is! it’s a bit rushed as i wanted this out of my drafts but i hope you guys still enjoy it. (this is my 2nd time writing smut and publishing it so forgive me for any mistakes 😭 SEND REQUESTS TO FEED THE BEAST) this is part two to this

it had taken a day before in-ho caved in and called your number, his phone pressed against his ear as he held a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in until you picked up.

“hello?”

in-ho was speechless, staying quiet until he finally found his voice and spoke up.

"y/n. this is-"

"in-ho, i know, i can recognise your voice." you interrupted and in-ho could just tell there was a grin on your face even if he couldn't see it. "it hasn't even been two days and you already called my number? i thought you would give it a week at least. miss me that much?"

in-ho was quiet again as he listened to your teasing before he spoke up in his hoarse tone. "yes." he admitted and there was silence on the other line before he heard you chuckle.

"¡ was not expecting you to admit that."

"neither did i."

“so, anything i can help you with?”

he was silent again, pondering in his mind. why did he call you? he obviously couldn’t just blurt out that he wanted to hear your voice even though he did just admit that he misses you and so he quickly came up with an excuse.

“i bought a new coffee machine and i need help with it.”

in-ho internally sighed as the words left his mouth before he could even think properly.

“ah, sure, i can help with that. just…give me an hour or so, im still on my shift.”

he nodded and quickly assured you it was fine. the call ended as you both said goodbye to each other and in-ho texted you his address.

great, now he had an hour to go out and buy a new coffee machine

upon your arrival, you eyed the fancy lobby and hallway as you made you way to the penthouse, knocking on the door.

a few shuffling could be heard behind the door as well as in-ho cursing before he opened the door. you smiled and gave him a little wave.

“hi!” in-ho nearly gushed at your voice and felt as if he was blessed by the gods himself for being in your presence. he was down bad.

“y/n, you look pretty.”

“really? y’know, this is just what I wear to work.” you giggled but came into the apartment, missing the way in-ho had became pink as he quickly closed the door behind you.

“so, new coffee machine huh?”

“oh—yes, right here.”

you followed after him as he lead you into the kitchen, a newly-looking coffee machine on his counter. “usually coffee machines would could with instructions…” you teased, raising a brow and smiling at him.

in-ho only chuckled, albeit a bit nervously. he clicked his tongue and quickly thought of a lie. “well, i threw the box away after taking it out.”

“ah, i see, well, it really isn’t that hard…” in-ho watched as you trailed off and checked out the coffee machine.

it only took ten minutes before you were finished and had set the machine where his old one was. in-ho admiring you as you did.

“your old machine looks pretty good though, why the new one?”

“…im giving it to a family member.” he lied, acting as if he totally didn’t buy a new one just because he lied off his ass to get you to come over.

you nodded in understanding and silence filled the room again before you spoke up. “well, i guess i should get going now—”

“wait!— i, uh, also need your help with something else.”

“oh?”

“…do you have any experience with cats?”

“this is ji-ji, i only adopted her…a week ago.” a siamese cat was sat in front of both you and in-ho meowing at the two of you. “im new to um, cats—well, i never had one before so im not sure if i have the right stuff for her…”

in-ho lied once again. he fumbled with his words like a fool and his cat only glared at him as if understanding his words. he had this damn cat for years now.

“mm, by the looks of it, you have quite the right items for her, that’s good.” you smiled, reaching a hand to pet the cat. in-ho nodded along and a small smug smile was plastered on his face as if proud you were telling him he was a perfect cat owner—even though he knew very well he had the right items for his cat.

“im glad, i was worried that i was missing anything important she needed…” he stopped, noticing how taken you were with the cat, cooing and petting her as if she was your own cat.

“she’s a cutie, just like her owner.” you kissed the cats forehead, ignoring how you made in-ho freeze and stare off in the distance with a confused look, pink on his cheeks once again.

meanwhile in-ho was lost in his head. he was a fearless man, a man who commanded obedience and authority, never did he think he would be called cute—was that how you saw him? that can’t be right.

he doesn’t want to be seen as a vulnerable figure— especially not by you. he cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice laced with nonchalance and seemed a bit more…deeper.

“would you like to stay for dinner?” he questioned, looking at you with his cold, stern glare again.

“sure, why not?”

he immediately softened at your answer, not expecting you to actually accept and was back to being a love-sick fool.

you don’t know how it happened, but it did somehow. you were just eating dinner with in-ho, having small talk with him and next thing you know, your pushed down onto a bed, clothes being ripped off as in-ho kissed down your neck.

“you’re perfect.” he purred, his tone raspy and deep that had your knees weak and your panties soaked.

his hand found its way to your panties as he chuckled at the feeling of the wet pool gathering. “so wet for me, do i really have that big of a effect on you?”

you nodded and nearly moaned as he rubbed against your panties, mouth against yours now. he bit down on your bottom lip for entry and you quickly opened your mouth, his tongue finding way inside.

his cock was hard and throbbing against his trousers, almost begging to be let out. he slid your panties off and unbuckled his own pants, taking them off along with his boxers as he did.

“in-ho, please—”

“shh, i know, sweetheart…” he quickly interrupted you and rubbed his cock against your wet folds, a strangled moan leavint him. “you’re so small against me.” he chuckled and you could only look at him with lust in your half-lidded eyes.

a loud moan left you when he suddenly thrusted into you and continued, not allowing you to adjust to his thickness. in-ho growled into your ear his pace fastening.

“oh, yesyesyes!” you cried out in pleasure, tears running down your face and in-ho only shuddered at the sight, kissing your tears away, his cock somehow getting harder inside you. “in-ho…”

you were so blissed out and in-ho was getting so turned on. you looked beautiful. a messy sight you were yet you always managed to look good, no matter what.

his balls tightened and his cock twitched as he thrusted, letting out a rumbling groan into your neck. “‘m gonna cum…”

he didn’t even know if you managed to process his words but he kept going before his hips stuttered and he groaned, thrusts turning sloppy as he came.

your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head the feeling of hot spurts of his cum coating your insides had your legs shaking, even as your own orgasm overcame you.

silence quickly fell over the room, the only sound being heard coming from both of you were your heavy breaths. “you’re perfect…” in-ho murmured again, placing a tender kiss on your forehead as he gently pulled out, leaving you missing the warmth he provided.

he made sure you were comfortable on the bed before leaving and coming back with a warm towel, gently cleaning in between your thighs before sliding your panties back on. “do you want some hot chocolate?…”

you paused and furrowed your brows before glancing at him. “i usually don’t get offered hot chocolate after having sex.” you mused, a smile pulling at your lips as his cheeks flushed yet again. “i’d like some.”

in-ho nodded and got up, making his way to the kitchen. after a few minutes, he returned with two mugs and placed one in your hands. “be careful, it’s hot.”

“well i’d hope so.”

he chuckled and laid beside you, pulling the blankets to cover both of you. you sipped on the hot chocolate, letting out a small sound of pleasure.

“this is really good.”

“is it?”

“mhm, maybe you could help me with my shifts back at the bar.” you claimed with a giggle, leaning closer to him and resting your head on his shoulder. in-ho’s heart melted and with his other hand, he held yours, a small hum coming from as he sipped on his own hot chocolate.

“maybe i could.”

#hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho #lee byung hun #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x you #player 001 #front man #in ho x reader #lee byung hun x reader #hwang inho

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morimemichael · 1 day ago

Note

Walks up to the microphone and gulps nervously…… can you write a daisuke x Reader with him possibly eatingthereaderout preferably a gender neutral reader… ok sigh walks away in shame

- 🦇

I got you anon… 😏😎

DAISUKE X N!READER

Warnings: smut! Reader receiving oral! Cunnilingus! Orgasm!

Daisuke’s muffled moans we’re filling the empty room. Laying on the couch in his back, he has his mouth attached to your core. Napping at your juices. You were hovering over his face, moaning his name at the top of your lungs. The tip of his tongue circling that spot you love so much.

“Daisuke!! God! Babe, just like that!” You screamed once more, making the young boy hum against your wet and throbbing core.

“You’re so wet, I can’t get enough of you. Please lemme keep eating you sweetie….” He begged.

“Please, please, don’t stop!” Your hips start rocking forwards, meeting his tongue midway. You let your head fall back whimpering with pleasure. Daisuke’s hands gripping your hips tightly, desperate to please you, wanting to know if he was doing good.

He starts to lick your wetness and granting at your own flavor.

“Mhg-fuck, your taste…want more.” He let out a grunt-kind of noise, from deep back of his throat.

“It’s all yours Dai…” You coo him.

“Please ride my face darling.” He asked, almost begging.

You didn’t have to be told twice, when you start moving a little bit faster, he didn’t have much experience, but he learnt what he knows form you. Moving your hips to help you ride his face faster. You feel the peek of your orgasm getting closer.

“Dai!” You moan, a subtle warning that you were getting closer to your climax.

“It’s okay, beautiful, it’s okay. Cum on my face, I wanna taste your orgasm.” He whimpered.

A few more moves was all you needed to explode and cry his name, sobbing a little bit as you come hard on his face.

“D-Dai!! Babe-God….!” You cried out, riding your orgasm as long as you could.

Once you were done, Daisuke kissed your thighs gently, workshopping every inch of your skin. Soft lips trailing a soft path of kisses upwards, heading to you face.

“You’re so beautiful…” He reassured.

“Cheesy…” You teased.

“Come on! It’s true. You’re a magnificent, intelligent and cool person. How did I get is lucky? Me? From all the guys you could’ve had if you wanted to…”

“Yeah, but only you make me laugh like a seagull.” You giggle and he laughs.

“Geez…I love you.” He confesses again. He flash him a big smile as you kiss the tip of his nose.

After that, you stayed the night in his sleeping quarters, having his arms wrapped around your waist, as he cuddle you to sleep.

Okay, THIS SUCKS 😭 I’m sorry! I wrote this last night in the middle of the night 🥹 I promise I’ll do better next time ✨ I hope you liked it tho! 😊 see ya around guys!!

#daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke fanart #daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #intern daisuke #mouthwashing fanfic #Daisuke

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hencheri · 12 hours ago

Note

i dont even gaf anymore i need haechan to take advantage of me so mf bad 😭😭 i just know he would be rough as fuck too and leave me there afterwards like im nothing I NEEEEEDDD THAAATTTT

oh, girl... how fucking insane

18+ mdni.

warning: noncon

his hand around your neck, your panties stuffed in your mouth to muffled down your cries that he finds oh so annoying, fucking you right there on the floor. haechan just wants his release, and he will have it.

"how does it feel to be my little cum dump, hm?" his lips are stretched into a grin, pupils blown out. he watches your reaction, how you squirm beneath him, how you whine so loudly despite the makeshift gag in your mouth. his smile slowly falters, tongue passing over his bottom teeth. "fucking hurt, doesn't it, huh? stupid bitch."

you think you hear it before you feel it; his palm colliding with your cheek, making your head turn to the side at the force of the impact. it burns and you let out a sob that rips through your throat.

"i hope it does," he hisses, "really badly."

it's no surprise when he leaves you there, hole dripping from his cum, not even acknowledging you once. you were only a quick and easy fuck for him to empty his balls. nothing more, nothing less.

#asks #— ☆ starring dream #— ☆ starring 127 #w/ haechan !#nct smut #nct hard hours #tw noncon

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unstableverse-headcanons · 2 days ago

Note

Hii sorry if I’m being annoying with all my asks my mind is just. Working overtime with Parrot’s newest video and I need to pour out my word vomit somewhere.

The fact that Nufuli was SO quick to rush to Parrot’s room when he pressed the emergency signal has me writhing on the floor. Like I know that the whole point of it is to like, send a distress call, but I like to imagine Nufuli being on the other side of the base and sprinting over to Parrot’s room because Derapchu, Jumper and Leo have went on like. A mission or smt and he got stuck with babysitting duty. Like idk why it’s just so sksjsksjsj. I hope that the distress call is going to play a role later in the season cause it’s so. Idk how to explain it. It’s like with the beacons except this time, someone actually came and helped him??? UU! Parrot’s probably feeling so lonely having to grieve over Wifies and Dean all by himself, being too scared of letting anyone else in because everytime he lets someone in and doesn’t cut them out they leave him. And I like to believe that this is the reason he kept pushing everyone away, even in s1 pre-Wifies and Dean’s deaths. He’s so scared, so terrified of getting hurt that he’s decided to lock himself in this little sphere and push anyone who tries to come in out and there’s just. Leo and his team sneaking past the barriers since s1 and he’s SO BUSY PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY he doesn’t even. notice them until Leo sneaks up on him lol. Their dynamic is so interesting I need someone to give them a duo name (<——— is horrible at coming up with duo names). I n e e d more ParrotX2 & Leow0ok content like. Words can not explain how obsessed I am with their dynamic they’re so fucking. (Distant screaming)

On another note! I hope that at some point during s2 there’s a confrontation between Parrot, Jumper and Woogie and maybe even Parrot and the rest of district 13. Grief is a tricky thing but it feels like Parrot’s currently either in the stage of pain and guilt or the stage of acceptance but it seems more like pain and guilt and. As the season progresses I would love to see more of Parrot’s grief because he’s actual lost so much like how does bro keep on going 😭😭😭 Having him go through anger, bargaining and acceptance of the deaths would be so cool like. I can imagine a falling out happening between Parrot & Leo’s team, more so because of Derapchu and Jumper because one day it hits him that they just. Left District 13 because he was having trouble coming up with a plan and that the only person who stayed with him ended up fucking dying while everyone else was fine and well. The mix of being angry at them for leaving, a part of him convincing himself it was for the better because he would’ve probably gotten them killed too, and the majority of him just being so grief-struck that he can’t function. The constant back-and-forth of blaming the rest of District 13 and convincing himself that if he’d made just one decision differently - if he’d maybe listened to Wifies when he was begging him to run, to leave the rest of the server behind, etc etc…. That birb is going through so much I hope the next video is longer so that we can see more of his grief. In addition, the “bargaining” part could be Parrot interacting with the director, finding himself in a similar position as Spoke in the previous season except this time Parrot’s atleast semi-aware that he’s talking to the villain of their smp. The only question is what would Parrot have to offer? Cause like. The director seems sorta hesitant in killing him and Wemmbu and ik it’s probably the plot armor but I personally like to believe that the director is struggling to figure out which one to Spokeify but leaning towards Parrot because on one hand, you have Wemmbu - sorta prone to violence, decent fighter, would fist fight you. NOT very good listener. His moral compass lowk depends on Egg. ON THE OTHER HAND. You have Parrot. Not exactly stable. Clearly resistant to people in power. More vulnerable than Wemmbu because he just lost his two best friends and is struggling to integrate into Leo’s team. Could Probably get snowballed out of it so quickly at the tiniest misstep on Leo’s (or literally any member of his team) part. Like I’m sorry but “Nah I’m gonna stop trying to kill you cause this is kinda annoying like I thought killing you would be easy but you’re actually giving me trouble so no” from the #1 MINECRAFT PLAYER is wild??? Like I can. Not see someone being so good at the game and not appreciating a good challenge like. ??? Plus bro literally gets hired by the director why would he warn Parrot about more people coming after him if he’s working with the director?? Like. Maybe I’m just paranoid but that feels like such weak reasoning like. I am so scared of the director but also lowk want him to pull at Parrot’s strings and spin him into a sort-of villain like narrative so that the director can stay hidden for longer while everyone tries to deal with this internal conflict because Parrot’s proved he’s a pretty hard player to kill time and time again. He’s like a real life bird (or a fish ig) constantly slipping out of someone’s hands. I love the idea of the director but I do not like the thought that his only want is killing Parrot (and Wemmbu - although I’m pretty sure it wasn’t outright stated, and also Spoke probably) like. What happened to villains with ulterior motives. You’re telling me this guy stayed hidden behind the scenes for a year with very few people even being aware of his existence and. That’s it? All he wants to do is kill a few players and probably take over the server? I’m sorry I’m just not buying it.

I will also be side-eyeing every single new character like. Any of them could be the director or maybe none of them are and I’m just slowly losing it. The thing UU does to me man.

I think this is all I wanted to say (for now) sorry for the long semi-analysis lol

- 🌺 Anon

Don't worry, I'm always glad to get new asks in my inbox! Anyways! These are all really nice :D

#headcanon #unstable universe #parrotx2 #nufuli #leowook #derapchu #jumperwho #🌺 anon

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katerinaaqu · 2 days ago

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hi! i was reading the iliad book 9 and nestor told diomedes that “If you were one of my sons, you would be the youngest of them all.” (Wilson, around line 70 i believe) but we know from the odyssey that peisistratus was the youngest son, and he couldn’t have been much older than telemachus since i remember him saying he never knew his brother antilochus, who went to troy. and i’m assuming diomedes was in his late 20s in the iliad so the maths just aren’t mathing haha. i was just wondering if that was ever explained? or maybe discussed among scholars?

in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter much i guess but it bugs me so much. i’m so curious 😭

That is a very good question for starters yes I do also believe that Diomedes was around his late 20s at war (having joined when he was around 18). Now for Peisistratus we do not know his exact age but as you said we can assume he's at the same age group as Telemachus (thus also the term "like-minded" in rhapsody 15 which doesn't only emanate from emotions themselves but also that the two characters are close at age but being close to age might not as well imply no age difference at all. Peisistratus could have been several years older than Telemachus just not in a conscious age when Antilochus was around which could be anywhere between the years of 1 till 7 or 8) also Peisistratus not fully having met Antilochus could also imply Antilochus early marriage and possibly his moving to another estate or simply that he was not around him much in the first place.

Of course he wouldn't have been older than Antilochus either otherwise he wouldn't have stayed at home and he would have gone to the war. And also Antilochus is arguably younger than Diomedes as well given how according to some myths he arrives around the 5th year mark of the war not only because his father prevented him from arriving but also because he was too young to fight earlier. Now there is a possibility Antilochus and Diomedes being very close at age or about the same age group but I think it fits more to assume that Antilochus is several years younger but that is left for interpretation.

But the passage you refer to is this (which also has some interesting points)

For you could have been my son; coming from the youngest of my kin capable of bearing arms

(Translation by me)

The reason why I translated "youngest of my kin" is because the final word is the word γενεά which basically also stands for "clan" or "race" or "generation" so I thought to show it here (of course the translation "youngest born" is very valid as well)

So here is the thing. The word ὁπλότατος means "youngest" but it most likely came from the ancient word ὅπλον which stands for "shield" and later on came to mean the arms aka weapons in general so in this case the passage could also mean "of proper age to bear arms" or "of the right age to fight"

So I tend to see it this way; that Nestor mentions how back then Diomedes could have been the youngest of his sons that could bear arms. Because otherwise with Antilochus in the army who was arguably one of the youngest if not the youngest it wouldn't make sense to think of Diomedes as the youngest indeed unless Nestor is speaking in past tense which again seems unlikely it seems more like Nestor is generalizing on how young Diomedes is rather than imply that he is younger even than those characters that are not even present at war.

Hope these random thoughts make some sense here.

#greek mythology #tagamemnon #homeric poems #the iliad #katerinaaqu answers #nestor #diomedes

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scarletwinterxx · 2 days ago

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hiiii! i really enjoy reading your niki aus!! if the request are open, is it possible to request a vernon or minghao x oc one-shot/short drabble based off of niki's song 'facebook friends'? i just heard it again and thought about them :((((

YOU ARE IN LUCK BCS I JUST SAW NIKI 😭 when i read this request I JUST KNEW WHAT TO DO but i'm still working on my angst writing skills but i hope you enjoy this one🥺

alsoooo for reqs, i am slowly working my way through them. it might take some time tho so just a heads up😅🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You stare at the name on your email inbox, double-checking to make sure you read it correctly.

Xu Minghao.

Your fingers tighten around the edge of your desk as Jihyo leans over your shoulder. "No way," she whispers. "It’s him? The artist you've been trying to track down is him?"

It almost doesn’t feel real. The elusive, secretive artist whose work has been making waves in the industry—the one you’ve been assigned to collaborate with for the upcoming exhibit—is none other than the person you once thought might be your forever.

The one who slipped away from you like a dream fading in the morning light.And now, after years of silence, you have a meeting scheduled with him.

You exhale slowly, trying to push down the sudden wave of emotions threatening to rise. It's been years. Maybe he’s changed. Maybe you have. But there’s no denying that the name on your screen still has the power to shake you.

Jihyo nudges your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure if it’s true.

“I mean, what are the odds?” she says, still staring at the screen like it might change if she blinks enough times. “Are you gonna go?”

You give her a look. “Of course, I have to. It’s my job.”

“Yeah, but—” she pauses, studying you. “It’s him. You never really told me what happened between you two.”

You swallow, memories flashing through your mind—late-night conversations, whispered laughter, the way he used to look at you like you were the only person in the room. And then, the goodbye that came too soon.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “We just… lost each other.”

Jihyo hums, clearly not satisfied with that answer but choosing not to push. Instead, she gestures toward your laptop. “Well, whatever happened, you’re about to see him again. Are you ready for that?”

You glance at the email again, at the date and time of the meeting.

Ready or not, it’s happening.

The café you picked for the meeting is quiet, tucked away from the usual crowd. You arrived early, nerves buzzing under your skin, but you kept your posture composed. Professional. This is just work.

When Minghao walks in, the air seems to shift. He’s just as you remember—tall, effortlessly graceful, his presence commanding without trying. His dark eyes scan the space before they land on you.

“Hey,” he says simply, sliding into the seat across from you like this is the most casual thing in the world.

Like nothing ever happened.

Your grip tightens around your coffee cup. “Thanks for coming.”

He nods, leaning back slightly. “You were persistent.” There’s a ghost of amusement in his tone, but nothing more. No flicker of recognition beyond what’s expected. No acknowledgment of the past you once shared.

Jihyo, sitting beside you, clears her throat. “So, you two know each other?”

You hesitate. Minghao beats you to it.

“We used to.” His voice is light, indifferent. “It’s been a long time.”

That’s it. No warmth, no curiosity. Just a fact, stated and discarded.

Jihyo shoots you a glance, one eyebrow raised, but you can’t meet her eyes. Instead, you straighten your shoulders and force a professional tone. “Let’s talk about the exhibit.”

You pull out your tablet, tapping the screen to bring up the exhibit’s concept proposal. Your fingers are steady, your voice even as you start outlining the details, but you can feel Jihyo’s gaze flickering toward you every so often. She’s noticed. Of course, she has.

“This exhibit is designed to focus on themes of anonymity and identity,” you explain, keeping your tone neutral, professional. “Your work fits seamlessly with that concept. The way you obscure figures, distort reality—it makes the viewer question what’s real and what’s hidden beneath the surface.”

Minghao listens, his face unreadable. He nods slightly but doesn’t interrupt.

You glance up, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression gives away nothing. This version of him—cool, detached—feels foreign to you. The Minghao you knew was quiet but warm, his words sparse but meaningful. You remember the way his gaze used to linger, the way his laughter felt like a secret just for you.

But this man in front of you? He might as well be a stranger.

Still, you push through, keeping your voice steady.

“We’ll be dedicating an entire section to your work. Since you prefer anonymity, we can arrange for all communication to go through me directly—unless you’d like to be more involved in the curation process?”

Minghao tilts his head slightly, considering. “I trust your judgment.”

Something about the way he says it, so detached, makes something tighten in your chest.

“Then we’ll handle the layout and let you approve before finalizing. I’d also like to discuss any specific pieces you have in mind.”

Minghao hums, fingers lightly tapping against the table. “I’ll send over a selection tonight.”

And just like that, it’s all business. No hesitation, no awkwardness on his part. It’s like the years apart never happened. Like you never meant anything more than a fleeting acquaintance.

Jihyo clears her throat, leaning forward slightly. “So, Mr. Xu,” she says, feigning casual interest

“Minghao is fine”

“Right, sorry. Minghao, I heard you go way back, huh?”

You shoot her a sharp glance, but she ignores it.

Minghao, to your frustration, remains utterly unbothered. He gives a slight nod. “Yeah. We knew each other a long time ago.”

That’s it. No elaboration. No emotion.

“Minghao, we’d also like to arrange a preview event before the full opening—”

Jihyo leans back in her chair, clearly unimpressed with your deflection, but she lets it slide. For now.

The meeting continues, all smooth efficiency and professional formality. You and Minghao exchange words, but none of them are personal. Nothing slips through. Still, you can feel it. That undercurrent of something unresolved.

The office is quiet except for the rhythmic clicking of your keyboard as you work on the proposal layout. You’re determined to focus, to push past whatever lingering tension is still curling in your chest from the meeting. Minghao is just another artist, and this is just another exhibit. That’s all.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you see Jihyo.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just slowly rolls her chair over to your desk. The wheels squeak slightly against the floor, making her approach all the more dramatic. You pretend not to notice.

She stops right beside you, hands folded in her lap. Waits.

You continue typing, expression neutral.

Jihyo exhales. “So…”

You keep typing.

She leans in. “Who was Minghao to you?”

You knew this was coming. You let out a slow breath, still focused on the screen. “An artist I’m working with.”

Jihyo makes a noise—a mix between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, please.” She swivels her chair so she’s directly facing you. “I may not have known you when you two were a thing, but I know you now, and you were not normal back there.”

You sigh, finally looking at her. “Jihyo—”

She lifts a finger. “No. Don’t ‘Jihyo’ me. The tension at that table? I could taste it. And I don’t even know what flavor it was. Bitterness? Regret? Unresolved yearning?”

You groan, letting your head drop onto your desk. “Can we not?”

Jihyo pats your shoulder. “Oh, we absolutely can.” Then, after a pause, she adds, “But we won’t.”

You lift your head just enough to glare at her. “It was a long time ago.”

Jihyo tilts her head. “And yet, here we are.”

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because she’s right. You did react. You did feel something. And the fact that Minghao acted like nothing ever happened? That stung more than you’d like to admit.

Jihyo smirks, clearly seeing the conflict on your face. “Look, I’m just saying… If this were a movie, this would be the part where you two have a dramatic, emotionally charged confrontation in the rain.”

You deadpan. “We’re curating an art exhibit, not starring in a K-drama.”

Jihyo grins. “Yet.”

The exhibit venue is quiet when you arrive. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the polished floors. You exhale, taking in the open space, already visualizing how the pieces will be arranged.

You came alone on purpose.

After the meeting with Minghao, you needed a moment to clear your head. No distractions, no lingering stares, no best friend dramatically rolling her chair toward you demanding answers.

Just you and the work.

You move toward the center of the room, pulling out your tablet to review the layout. The space is perfect—high ceilings, just the right balance of natural and artificial light. The way the walls curve will complement Minghao’s pieces beautifully. You can already imagine the way his art will breathe life into the room.

You’re so focused that you don’t notice someone else entering. Minghao stands near the entrance, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning the space before they land on you.

Your fingers tighten around your tablet. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

He shrugs slightly. “I wanted to see the space for myself.” His voice is calm, casual like running into each other is just another normal occurrence. Like you didn’t sit across from each other yesterday, pretending you were just two professionals who had never been anything else.

You nod, forcing yourself to mirror his indifference. “It’s a good venue. Your pieces will stand out here.”

Minghao steps further inside, gaze flickering over the walls, the lighting, the empty space waiting to be filled. “It suits the theme.”

There’s a beat of silence. You shift your weight slightly, debating whether to say something more, but Minghao speaks first.

“You always wanted to do this, didn’t you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“This.” He gestures loosely around the venue. “Curating. Putting together exhibits. I remember you talking about it.”

You stare at him for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. He remembers?

You shake it off, nodding. “Yeah. I worked for it.”

Minghao hums in acknowledgment, stepping closer. “You’re good at it.”

It’s a simple statement, but something about it makes your breath hitch. You tell yourself it’s just the surprise of hearing him say it, not the warmth curling at the edges of your chest.

You clear your throat, shifting the conversation back. “We’ll need to finalize the layout soon. If you have any specific requirements for how your pieces should be displayed, now’s the time to bring them up.”

Minghao looks at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “I trust your judgment.”

It’s the second time he’s said that, and yet, it still feels different coming from him.

For a moment, the weight of the past lingers in the space between you. But then, Minghao turns, walking further into the venue, and just like that, the moment is gone.

You pull up the digital floor plan on your tablet, stepping to the center of the space as Minghao watches. “The main area will have the larger installations,” you begin, voice steady, professional. “We want visitors to be drawn in immediately, so we’re positioning the most visually striking pieces here.”

Minghao nods slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room, already visualizing it. “This section will be more intimate. It’s meant to slow people down, to make them pause and really engage with the work rather than just passing through.”

You continue walking, feeling yourself getting more absorbed in the details. You’re in your element now curating, shaping the experience, making sure every piece has a purpose.

Then, you stop in front of a particular section of the room.

There’s something about this space. The way the light falls, the way it feels slightly tucked away yet still open. You can see it. something important should go here. Something that holds weight. But for some reason, the words to explain it won’t come out the way you want them to.

You frown slightly, trying to find the right phrasing. “This part—there’s just something about it,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “It’s like… I don’t know, it feels different from the rest of the space, like it—”

You cut yourself off, frustrated, but before you can try again, Minghao speaks.

“I can see that.”

You turn to him. He’s looking at the space, his expression soft, thoughtful. Then, he smiles—small, barely there, but real.

“You’re right,” he says simply.

And just like that, you know he understands. Exactly what you meant, even when you couldn’t find the words.

After walking through the space, you decide to stop by the small café tucked inside the venue. You were planning on going alone just a quick coffee before heading back to finalize more details but Minghao follows.

You don’t say anything as you both order, and he doesn’t make a move to leave once you find a quiet corner to sit. It’s not awkward, exactly.

Just… unexpected.

Then, as you stir your drink absentmindedly, he asks,

“How have you been?”

You blink, looking up at him. There’s no bitterness in his tone, no underlying anger or resentment. Just a simple question, asked like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You hesitate for a moment before answering honestly. “I’ve been better.”

Minghao nods slightly, as if he expected that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask for details. Just lets your words settle between you. For some reason, that makes it harder to breathe.

Minghao watches you for a moment, fingers curled loosely around his cup. Then, in that quiet, thoughtful way of his, he says,

“You look good. More at peace.”

You freeze. Not because of the words themselves, but because of what he means.

He’s not just saying you look good. He’s talking about then. About the person you were when you left him. The version of you who didn’t know what to say, who let silence build walls between you both until there was no way back.

The wrong person at the right time.

You swallow, gripping your cup a little tighter. “I guess time does that.”

Minghao hums in response, gaze still steady, like he’s seeing through you rather than just looking. But he doesn’t say anything more.

You take a sip of your drink, staring down at the foam swirling in your cup. The air between you and Minghao isn’t heavy, but it isn’t entirely light either. It’s balanced on the edge of something unspoken. Something that neither of you seem willing to reach for.

Still, if he can acknowledge you, then you can do the same for him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” you say, setting your cup down. “Your work is everywhere now. People are obsessed with figuring out the artist behind it all.”

Minghao exhales a small laugh, tilting his head slightly. “That wasn’t really the goal.”

You nod, because you know that. He never cared for fame, only the art itself. “Still. Congratulations.”

His eyes flicker to yours, and for a second, there’s something unreadable in his gaze. “Thanks.”

You lean back in your seat, studying him in a way you hadn’t let yourself before. He’s still him—still thoughtful, still composed—but there’s something different now. A certain ease in his presence.

“I always thought you’d make it,” you admit quietly. “Even back then.”

Minghao watches you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course. You were never meant to be small. It was just a matter of time before people realized how good you are.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something like surprise, something softer. He looks down at his cup, fingers tracing the rim. “You were the first person who ever said that to me.”

Your heart stumbles over itself for a moment. “I was?”

Minghao nods, gaze still on his drink. “Yeah.”

You sit with that for a moment, the weight of it settling between you. Back then, you were the one who saw it—the potential, the brilliance in him before the rest of the world did. You wonder if he remembers the late nights spent in quiet corners, sketchbooks spread out between you, his voice low as he talked about what he wanted to create.

You wonder if he remembers how much you believed in him.

Minghao lifts his head again, his gaze steady. “And you?” he asks. “Are you where you thought you’d be?”

The question catches you off guard.

You let out a slow breath, considering it. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I worked for this, and I love what I do. But… I don’t think I ever imagined it exactly like this.”

Minghao nods like he understands. Maybe he does. Then silence settles again, but this time, it doesn’t feel so sharp.

Maybe, after all these years, you’re both learning how to sit with unfinished conversations.

You don’t expect the call.

It’s late in the afternoon when your phone buzzes, Minghao’s name flashing across the screen. For a second, you just stare at it, debating whether to answer. But curiosity wins over hesitation, and you press the call button.

“I need to show you something,” he says, skipping the pleasantries.

You blink. “What?”

“My studio,” he says simply. “Come by if you can.”

And just like that, you’re standing outside his studio a few hours later, staring at the discreet entrance of a space you never expected to see. Minghao lets you in without a word, leading you through a warmly lit, open space that’s somehow both chaotic and meticulous. Canvases lean against the walls, paintbrushes sit in jars, and sketchbooks are stacked on nearly every surface.

It smells like paint, ink, and something distinctly him.

You take your time looking around, scanning the pieces scattered throughout the room. Some are finished, others half-done, waiting for something only Minghao knows. His style has evolved—bolder, more refined—but you can still see the traces of the artist you once knew.

Then your eyes land on something unexpected.

A random piece of paper, slightly worn at the edges, tucked between a few sketchbooks. And on it—

You.

A sketch, delicate and detailed, as if he had drawn it absentmindedly but with careful intent. The lines are softer than his usual work, more personal.

It looks like he made it a long time ago.

Your breath catches for just a second. You carefully pick up the paper, running your fingers over the edges. “This is…”

Minghao glances over, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t look surprised that you found it.

You look at him. “You kept this?”

He holds your gaze for a moment before shrugging. “It was never meant to be thrown away.”

There’s something in his voice—something quiet, something real—that makes your chest feel too tight. Minghao doesn’t acknowledge the sketch any further. No explanation, no lingering stares, no sentimental comments. Just a simple, indifferent shift in attention—like it was nothing at all. Like it wasn’t a quiet echo of something neither of you had spoken about in years.

Instead, he steps past you, gesturing toward a set of canvases against the wall. “These are the pieces I’m considering for the exhibit.” His tone is smooth, professional. As if the last few minutes never happened.

You exhale, steadying yourself before setting the sketch down carefully. If he wants to act like it wasn’t there, like it didn’t just pull you backward in time, then fine. Business as usual.

“I want this one in the main space,” Minghao says, tapping a particular canvas. It’s bold—strong lines, movement that commands attention. It’s exactly the kind of piece that pulls people in.

You nod. “It’ll work well as a centerpiece. We can adjust the lighting to enhance the depth here.” You gesture toward a section of the painting. “It should be the first thing people see when they enter.”

Minghao hums in agreement, moving on to the next one. He explains the intention behind each piece, his voice calm, collected. You listen, taking notes, asking the necessary questions. You keep your posture straight, your tone even. Like you’re just a curator working with an artist.

Like you didn’t just see a version of yourself from years ago, sketched on a piece of paper he never threw away.

You sit in the small office area of his studio, notebook open, pen moving as you jot down notes. Minghao sits across from you, leaning slightly against the desk, his arms folded as he explains his vision for the exhibit.

“This one should be near the entrance,” he says, tapping a photo of a piece. “It sets the tone.”

You nod, writing it down. “And the smaller installations?”

“Scattered,” he replies. “I want people to explore, not just walk through.”

You hum in understanding, scribbling another note. Your focus stays on the page, on the structure, on making sure everything is recorded properly.

Then—silence.

You don’t notice it at first, too absorbed in organizing his ideas into something tangible. But after a few beats, the quiet lingers, stretching between you like something waiting to be acknowledged.

You pause. Slowly, you look up.

Minghao is watching you.

His expression isn’t unreadable, nor is it piercing. It’s just… thoughtful. His dark eyes steady, observant, like he’s studying something beyond the notes you’re taking.

You hold his gaze, but he doesn’t speak.

It’s the way he used to look at you—when you weren’t paying attention, when you were lost in thought. Back then, you had pretended not to notice. You wonder if you should do the same now.

Instead, you blink, shifting slightly in your seat. “…What?”

Minghao’s lips curve just slightly, something almost amused flickering across his face. Then, as if nothing happened, he looks back at the notes.

“Nothing,” he says smoothly.

And just like that, he continues as if he hadn’t just looked at you like that.

Jihyo orders the second round before you even finish your first. She gives you a knowing look over the rim of her glass, waiting, letting the weight of the night settle around you. The bar is loud enough that no one else is paying attention to your conversation, but not so loud that you have an excuse to avoid it.

You sigh, pressing your fingertips against your temple. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Jihyo leans forward, eyes glinting under the dim lights. “How about the part where you and the mysterious, elusive Minghao actually have history? Because I’m still recovering from that revelation.”

You exhale a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “We met in university.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We were… close.”

Jihyo raises a brow.

You roll your eyes. “Fine. We were together. Sort of.” You take a sip of your drink, letting the warmth settle in your chest before continuing. “It wasn’t like some grand, dramatic thing. One day, it was just… us. And it made sense.”

Jihyo watches you carefully, sipping her own drink. “And then?”

You grip your glass a little tighter. “And then one day, I left.”

She stills, waiting.

You swallow, staring at the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass. “It wasn’t planned. Or maybe it was, but not in a way I let myself admit. One day, I was fine, we were fine. And then the next, I told myself it was too much. Too fast.” Your fingers trace the rim of your glass absently. “I convinced myself I needed space. That if I stepped away, I’d figure things out. And when I was ready, he’d still be there.”

Jihyo doesn’t say anything, just watching you carefully.

You let out a quiet laugh, but it’s hollow. “That was just me being selfish.”

There. You finally said it.

“I came back,” you continue, voice quieter now. “I thought—maybe I’d say something, maybe I’d fix it. But by then, he was gone. Really gone. And I couldn’t blame him for that.”

Jihyo exhales slowly. “Damn.”

You huff out a weak laugh. “Yeah.”

She tilts her head, eyes searching yours. “And now?”

Now.

Now, you’re a curator, standing across from him in a professional setting, acting like none of it ever happened. Now, he’s a well-known artist, more self-assured, more composed, as if the years that passed had only refined him.

Now, you sit here, trying to be happy for him. And you are.

But there are moments—like when he looked at you in his studio, like when he spoke about his art the way he always used to—when you wish you met now.

When you wish he met this version of you.

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It doesn’t matter. He’s doing well. I’m happy for him.”

Jihyo gives you a long look, then sighs, taking another sip of her drink. “You can be happy for someone and still wish things were different.”

You close your eyes briefly, exhaling. “Yeah.”

Neither of you say anything for a while, just letting the weight of old memories and unfinished stories settle between you.

Then Jihyo knocks back the rest of her drink and slaps a hand on the table. “Okay, I love you, but that was depressing as hell. We need another round.”

You let out a real laugh this time, shaking your head. “Fine. One more.”

Jihyo grins. “Atta girl.”

And for now, that’s enough.

A few days later you go back to check the venue. With the event fast approaching you wanted to make sure everything is perfect.

The venue is quiet, save for the occasional shuffling of canvases and the soft hum of the overhead lights. It’s late—too late for the rest of the team to still be here—but you stayed behind, double-checking the placements, making sure everything looked just right.

Your footsteps echo lightly as you walk through the space, stopping in front of one particular painting.

It’s larger than you remember.

You know this piece. Or rather, you know the first version of it, the one that used to sit in Minghao’s dorm back in university. He had painted it late one night, the room dimly lit, colors swirling on the canvas as he worked in quiet concentration. You remembered watching him, sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, knees pulled to your chest.

A voice breaks through the stillness.

“I didn’t think you’d still remember that.”

You turn to see Minghao a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets. He isn’t surprised to see you here. Maybe he expected it.

Your lips curve slightly. “Of course I remember.” You glance back at the painting. “It’s right here.”

Minghao steps closer, stopping beside you. His gaze lingers on the canvas, something unreadable in his expression.

“This was the first piece I ever made public,” he says after a moment.

You blink, turning to him. “Really?”

He nods. “After you left, I thought about getting rid of it.” He exhales, tilting his head slightly. “But I couldn’t. So instead, I made it bigger. And when the time came to submit something for my first exhibit, I chose this.”

Something tightens in your chest.

You look up at him. His expression isn’t unreadable, nor is it particularly wistful. He’s just… there. Present. Real.

And maybe that’s enough. Maybe some stories don’t need rewriting. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be undone, only understood.

You look back at the painting, taking in every stroke, every layer of color. It’s the same, but it’s different. Like you. Like him. Like everything that’s changed between you.

You swallow, voice quieter now. “So this was it. The start.”

Minghao nods, his voice just as soft. “Yeah.”

You don’t know what else to say.

The painting stretches before you, a silent testament to the history you share—one that neither of you ever really put into words. You keep your gaze on the painting, the familiar swirls of color pulling you back to a time when things were simpler—when you didn’t question what you meant to each other, when you just were.

Your voice is quiet when you ask, “Why this?”

Minghao doesn’t answer right away. He stands beside you, hands still tucked in his pockets, his head tilted slightly as he looks at the painting.

Then, after a long pause, he says, “Because I thought even if we parted ways we were still under the same stars.”

Your breath catches.

His voice is steady, like he isn’t saying something that shakes you. Like it’s just a simple truth. “And maybe,” he continues, softer now, “somewhere, on rare days… you think of me too.”

You blink, staring at the painting but not really seeing it anymore.

Because the thing is...

he’s right.

There were days, rare but sharp, when your mind drifted to him. When a passing song or a quiet night sky would remind you of a version of yourself you hadn’t spoken to in years. A version that had loved him, once. A version that had left.

You exhale slowly. “I did.” A pause. “I do.”

Minghao doesn’t react right away. But then, almost imperceptibly, his lips curve—just slightly, just enough for you to notice.

Neither of you say anything for a while. You just stand there, in the quiet of the venue, looking at a piece of art that holds more history than either of you are willing to say out loud.

Then, finally, Minghao shifts. “Come on,” he murmurs, glancing toward the exit. “You shouldn’t stay here this late. I’ll walk you out.”

You hesitate, just for a second. Then you nod.

But as you follow him out, you glance back one last time—at the painting, at the stars you once saw in it.

And you wonder how many times you’ve looked up at the same sky, thinking of him without realizing he was doing the same.

The event is a success.

People linger in front of Minghao’s pieces, murmuring their admiration, pointing out the details, the emotions woven into every brushstroke. Critics and collectors alike speak highly of his work, and you hear words like breathtaking and transcendent float through the air as you move through the crowd.

And yet, he’s not here.

You knew he wouldn’t be. Minghao had always been private, letting his work speak for him rather than stepping into the spotlight himself. But still, as the evening progresses and the venue slowly empties, you find yourself glancing at the entrance, wondering.

When the crowd finally dies down and most of the guests have gone, you take a quiet moment to breathe.

Then the door opens.

You turn

And there he is.

Minghao walks in without ceremony, effortlessly slipping into the space that had been dedicated to him all night. He looks around briefly, taking it all in, before his gaze finds you.

And in his hands a bouquet of flowers.

You blink, caught off guard. “You bought me flowers?”

His lips curve into something close to a smile. “It seemed fitting.”

You accept them hesitantly, fingers brushing over the petals. They’re simple, elegant not overly extravagant, but thoughtful. Like him.

He exhales, looking around at his own work before settling his gaze back on you. “It turned out even better than I imagined.”

You nod. “People loved it.”

Minghao hums, glancing at one of the paintings. Then, after a beat, he says, “Thank you.”

You look up at him, tilting your head. “For what?”

His expression softens. “Because you were the first person who ever believed in me.”

Something catches in your throat.

You think back to university, to late nights spent watching him paint, to the way you had always known—even back then—that he had something special. That the world would recognize it one day.

“I just saw what was already there,” you say quietly.

Minghao holds your gaze for a moment before letting out a small breath. “Still.”

You don’t say anything else. You just stand there, surrounded by his art, by his success, by the quiet weight of everything that has led to this moment. And this time, there’s no regret. Just something warmer, something steady. Something that feels a little like peace.

You glance down at the flowers in your hands, fingers brushing over the petals. The colors are soft, warm—not unlike the way this moment feels. When you look back up at Minghao, he’s already watching you. Not expectantly, not searching.

Just seeing you. The way he always has.

“I’m glad we met again,” you say, voice quieter now.

Minghao’s gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t ask what you mean, doesn’t press for something deeper. Maybe because he already knows. You’re content to meet this version of him. And you’re happy he got to see this version of you too.

Minghao exhales softly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nods, just once. “Me too.”

Minghao reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He hesitates for just a second before extending it toward you. You take it carefully, unfolding it with steady hands.

And there it is—the original sketch of his first painting. The one you used to watch him work on in that tiny university dorm, the one that reminded you of the stars. The one that started everything.

You trace the faded lines with your fingertips, feeling the weight of time in every stroke.

Minghao exhales, tilting his head slightly. “It’s fitting that you have it.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “You were the first person who saw something in it. In me.” A small pause, then, softer—“It should be yours.”

Something in your chest tightens—not with regret, not with longing, but with something steadier, something like understanding.

You fold the paper carefully, holding it close. “Thank you.”

Minghao doesn’t say anything else. He just gives you a small, knowing smile before turning back to look at his own paintings. The pieces of himself that the world finally sees.

And as you stand there, with the past in your hands and the present settling around you, you realize—this is closure.

And it’s enough.

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