#shreya writes

[thatstolenpayal]

"le toh chalu main, tujhko waha pe

lekin waha pe sardi badi hai

kab main lagaaunga tujhko gale

khuda ki kasam, mujhe jaldi badi hai"

"odhungi aise main tujhko piya

sardi mujhko sataayegi kaise?

tujhko lagaaungi aise gale

koi gum ho jaata hai jaise"

"kis baat ki der phir tu lagaaye hai

khud ko ab roku main kaise?"

kashmir

[93millionmilesaway]

hi laurel <3

how are you doing?

SHREYA HELLO :D

right now it is currently chilly and a nice classic midwest autumn which i like.

school is schoolish, nothing too interesting there, but grades are where i want them to be at the moment so hooray :) the music field trip/literal vacation to new york city is in a few weeks and i am quite excited about that :> a lot of people in the music department are going which is pretty fun. i just submitted my audition for the state viola/orchestra thingy, so we'll see how that turns out (hopes aren't super high, but who knows.) (also what i've auditioned for is a whole other paragraph so i'll just skip details for rn.)

as far as overall well-being, mental health is what it is right now. things are pretty alright.

here is a random picture of the sky when i thought it looked cool because why not :]

anyhow, what have you been up to? how r u?

any interesting thing spottings?

[shreyaajmani]

On Purpose

Vadehra Art Gallery

Vadehra Art Gallery is pleased to present a group exhibition by some of the most exciting names in contemporary Indian art and literature. The exhibition includes artists Anju Dodiya, Atul Bhalla, Gigi Scaria, Jagannath Panda, K.M. Madhusudhanan, Praneet Soi, Ranbir Kaleka, Shrimanti Saha, Sudhir Patwardhan, Sunil Gupta, Nalini Malani and Ashim Purkayastha and meaningful contributions by writers Jeet Thayil, Nonita Kalra, Shruti Kapur Malhotra, Meena Kandasamy, Janice Pariat, Manju Sara Rajan, Anindita Ghose, Akhil Katyal, Gayatri Rangachari Shah, Anish Gawande, Kabir Jhala and Shreya Ajmani alongside the powerful works, opening up the discourse of a white-cube space to interdisciplinary interventions.

On display from May 27 to July 10, 2023.

[93millionmilesaway]

oof exams yikes but YAY NEW BABY! :D life is in fact okayish.

I'm fairly good, tired, but theater is fun. it's pretty hot right now in my area and it should be a lot cooler by now (booo global warming.) things are different, but not worse.

hola Shreya :D

what is up?!! (with swag)

Hi Laurel <3

My half-yearly exams start on Monday with Maths, so I'm trying to get myself to study (and mostly failing). I keep forgetting to take my Spanish lessons because I've turned off notifs, so I think I should set a daily reminder. My aunt from my father's side had BABY GIRLLLLLL. My dance theory exam is in December and the syllabus has increased a lot this year so we've started studying.

I'm feeling a bit low today (with swag), but life is good. Okayish.

How are you?

[diamonddaze01]

golden promises

pairing: xu minghao x reader | wc: 5.6k genre: angst angst angst! failed soulmates au | warnings: none a/n: this one goes out to my 8stars @ylangelegy & @haologram // thank you to @gotta-winwin and @haologram for the beta i adore you both! // my second attempt at trying to make my writing more poetic lol recommended listening 🎧:  raanjhan - parampara tandon | bin tere - vishal-shekar | samjho na - aditya rikhari | khairiyat - arijit singh | ek tarfa - darshan rawal | judaiyaan - darshan rawal & shreya ghoshal | dill tutda - jassie gill | jhol - maanu & annural khalid | humnava mere - jubin nautiyal  the angst olympics are live! check out all the amazing authors <3 join my taglist here

summary: And so it began. Minghao, who believed in fate, and you, who didn’t.

The first time Xu Minghao saw you, his timer hit zero.

There are moments in life that split time into before and after. Moments that settle deep in your bones, rewriting everything you thought you knew. Moments where the air thickens, where the world rearranges itself, where your heart stops—not in fear, but in recognition.

He’d heard stories about this. How the second you meet your soulmate, the universe exhales, and suddenly, everything makes sense. How the colors brighten, how your name must already be written somewhere inside him, waiting for his mouth to speak it into existence.

And for him, it did.

The summer air was heavy with the scent of ripe mangoes and jasmine, the marketplace humming with the kind of easy chaos that made everything feel alive. He wasn’t looking for anything—just wandering, just passing through, just existing—until he saw you.

You were standing in front of a small stall, the kind draped in delicate trinkets and woven bracelets, spinning one between your fingers. Sunlight poured over you like melted gold, catching in your hair, glinting off the curve of your smile.

Something cracked open inside him.

Dhadkan tak tainu rasta diya, sajna

His heart had shown him the way to you.

Minghao looked down at his wrist.

Zero.

The numbers, the ones he had watched his whole life, had disappeared. The silent countdown, the seconds that had ticked through his childhood and whispered promises into his dreams, were gone.

No fireworks. No divine chorus. Just this—his heart a steady, unshaken certainty.

It’s you.

His feet moved before he could think, drawn forward by something older than reason, stronger than doubt. He was going to say something—what, he didn’t know. Maybe your name, as if he had known it all along. Maybe something simple, something mundane, just to hear the sound of your voice.

But then, his gaze flickered to your wrist.

And there it was.

Numbers. Still ticking.

His breath left him all at once.

It was as if the earth had shifted beneath him, tilting the universe off its axis. The relief, the elation, the quiet wonder—shattered. His fate was sealed, but yours was still unraveling.

The wind tangled in your hair as you laughed at something your friend said, a sound so light it felt like it could lift off the ground and drift toward the sky. You didn’t notice him. You didn’t feel what he felt.

Minghao had spent his whole life waiting for this moment. But now that it had arrived, it didn’t belong to him the way he thought it would.

He could have called out to you. Could have walked forward, told you his name, told you that he knew. That he knew.

But fate had played its hand, and it was not kind.

So he stayed where he was, watching as you tied the bracelet around your wrist, as you moved through the market, as you disappeared into the crowd.

His heart, once so certain, now a quiet war between longing and restraint.

He had found you.

But you hadn’t found him.

The second time Xu Minghao saw you, you were at an art gallery. 

It was a quiet evening, the kind where the world outside felt muffled, softened by the hush of a setting sun. The gallery was nearly empty, save for a few patrons lost in the language of brushstrokes and shadowed frames. The air smelled of old paper and fresh paint, of something delicate and fleeting, like a memory slipping through fingertips.

And there you were.

Standing in front of a canvas, your head tilted ever so slightly, eyes tracing each careful stroke. It was an abstract piece—colors bleeding into each other, shapes unraveling into something intangible. The kind of painting that felt like a secret, like it was whispering something just out of reach.

Minghao should have walked away. Should have kept his distance, let you exist in that moment without the weight of his knowing.

But he had spent days—weeks—thinking about you.

So he found himself saying, “Do you think the artist believed in soulmates?”

You turned at the sound of his voice, eyes catching his. Startled at first, but then—recognition flickered, not of him, but of something in his words, something worth answering.

“I doubt it,” you said, lips curving into a thoughtful smile. “Do you?”

Minghao hesitated. He could have lied, could have said something lighthearted, something easy. But standing here, in the quiet weight of oil and canvas, in the space between past and present, the truth pressed against his ribs like a caged bird.

“I think… sometimes you don’t get a choice.”

You laughed, soft and warm, like a silk ribbon unraveling in the wind. The kind of laugh that made things feel lighter, even when they weren’t.

“That’s tragic,” you murmured. “I’d rather choose.”

Minghao swallowed.

Tu taan saare dil 'te hi kabza karke beh gaya

You had already taken over his heart, even if you didn’t know it.

He studied you then—the way your fingers hovered just slightly in front of you, as if reaching for the meaning behind the painting. The way your eyes held galaxies, waiting to be charted. He wanted to memorize this moment, carve it into his bones before time stole it away.

He thought about telling you. About turning his wrist to show you the truth written on his skin. About how his world had stopped the moment he saw you, how the universe had already chosen for him.

But then your wrist shifted, the timer still ticking down. Still leading you to someone else.

The universe may have chosen for him, but for you, fate was still unwritten.

So he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he turned back to the painting, letting silence stretch between you like an unfinished story. And maybe that’s all he would ever be to you—a passing presence, a stranger in an art gallery, someone whose name you might never think to ask.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Maybe choice is better.”

You smiled again, the kind that lingered even after you turned away, moving to the next painting.

Minghao stayed behind, staring at the colors on the canvas.

Wondering if love, when unreturned, still counted as love at all.

It should have ended there. A fleeting moment, a brush of time that barely left a mark. 

He told himself it would. That he would walk away, that he would let fate take its course, even if it didn’t bend in his favor.

But you didn’t let him.

You let him in.

It started small. A conversation stretched across an evening, then another. Then a name exchanged at a café a week later when he ran into you by accident—except it didn’t feel like an accident at all.

"Xu Minghao," he said.

You repeated it, testing the syllables on your tongue, making them something softer. Something dangerous.

After that, you existed in his life like a watercolor painting—gradual, spreading into all the empty spaces, impossible to contain.

It was raining the first time you talked about soulmates again.

You were both in a café, your fingers wrapped around a warm cup, the city humming outside in blurred headlights and water-streaked pavement. Minghao watched you, the way you always seemed lost in your own world before pulling him into it.

“The thing about soulmates,” you mused, tracing a finger along the rim of your cup, “is that they take the romance out of it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

You nodded, thoughtful. “It’s too easy. Too neat. Love should be a choice, don’t you think?”

Minghao hesitated. His wrist had already made its choice. But you hadn’t.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates,” he murmured.

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “No. I think it’s just another story we tell ourselves. Something to make the world feel a little less lonely.”

He wanted to tell you, then. Wanted to turn his wrist over on the table, let you see the blank space where the numbers had disappeared, let you understand what had already been decided for him.

But you had a timer still ticking down, still leading you somewhere else.

So he just smiled, soft and unreadable. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Like—what if it’s all just biology? A trick of the mind? The idea that we’re all predestined for one person seems… sad.” The way you said it made Minghao’s heart clench in his chest.

Minghao had watched you carefully, fingers tightening around his cup. “Sad?”

“Well, yeah.” You glanced out the window, watching the rain smear the city into soft, indistinct colors. “It means you could love someone with everything you have, and if they aren’t ‘the one,’ it doesn’t count.”

But it does count, he had wanted to say. It counts for the one who loves, even if it’s not returned.

“I don’t know,” he had murmured instead, watching the way the light framed your face. “Some people don’t get a choice.”

You had hummed, considering. “I’d still rather choose.”

And Minghao—Minghao, whose timer had hit zero the moment he saw you—wanted, for the first time, to believe in choice too.

It didn’t stop at coffee.

You became a presence in his life, slipping in like a poem written in margins, like a song hummed under breath.

It was the bookstore, where you ran your fingers along spines like they held secrets meant only for you. Minghao had asked what you were looking for, and you had grinned, mischievous.

“Something tragic,” you had said. “Something that’ll ruin my week.”

Minghao had laughed, shaking his head. “Why do you want to be ruined?”

You had met his gaze, something unreadable in your eyes. “Because at least then I’d know it meant something.”

It was the late-night walks, where the world shrank to just the two of you, city lights flickering like fireflies in the distance. You had spoken about dreams, about places you wanted to see, about how the concept of forever never sat right with you.

“Nothing lasts,” you had said, kicking a stray pebble down the sidewalk.

Minghao had tilted his head toward the sky. “Maybe not everything is supposed to.”

You had smiled at that, a small, quiet thing. “See? Now that’s tragic.”

It was the mornings where you sat across from each other, the clink of ceramic cups filling the space between easy silences. It was the stolen moments where he caught you laughing at nothing, where you tilted your head against his shoulder when you were tired, where you let him trace shapes into your palm absentmindedly as you talked about anything and everything.

The next time, it was late at night, both of you lying on a rooftop under a sky thick with stars. The city pulsed below, neon lights flickering like distant fireflies. You had dragged him up here, claiming it was the best place to think.

And Minghao would follow you anywhere.

You turned your head to look at him. “You ever think about what you’d do if your timer hit zero at the wrong moment?”

Minghao stared up at the sky, at the endless black, at the constellations that had burned for thousands of years and still hadn’t figured out how to stay together.

“It’s not supposed to be wrong,” he said eventually.

You laughed, but it was a quiet, almost sad sound. “But what if it is?”

He turned to look at you, to the slight crease between your brows, to the weight behind your question.

He thought about telling you. About the way his timer had gone silent the moment he saw you, how his world had stilled in a way he hadn’t even realized was possible.

But then you rolled onto your side, elbow propped up, fingers tracing absent patterns against the rooftop.

“Love should be terrifying,” you murmured. “It should be something you have to fight for, something that could break you.” You glanced at him then, eyes gleaming in the dark. “Wouldn’t that be better than some numbers on a wrist?”

Minghao swallowed. “Maybe.”

You smiled, satisfied, and turned back to the sky.

Minghao turned back too.

And said nothing.

It was like this for months.

Conversations that drifted too close to the truth. Fingers brushing and lingering before pulling away. The quiet intimacy of something unspoken, something fragile, something too good to last.

Minghao knew he was losing you before you were even his to lose.

Because your timer kept ticking.

Because fate had not chosen him for you, even though it had chosen you for him.

Because love, when unreturned, still felt like love—but it also felt like drowning.

And someday soon, the clock would run out.

You said you didn’t believe in soulmates.

You said it with certainty, with fire in your eyes, with conviction carved into every syllable.

“That timer is just a cruel game the universe plays,” you told him once, voice steady, fingers curled around your own wrist like you wanted to crush the numbers beneath your grip. "Love isn’t about some stupid numbers on your skin. It’s about choosing someone."

And then you had looked at him—really looked at him—like he was something inevitable. Something certain.

"I choose you, Minghao."

Ab na Heer kade dil da yaqeen kar paayegi

How could he not believe in you when you said it like that?

Minghao had spent his whole life believing in fate.

Believing in the weight of the numbers, in the invisible thread that wove two people together across time and space. His timer had been a promise. A quiet, patient thing ticking down with purpose, with certainty.

Fate had called your name, but it had not whispered his.

And yet, here you were—standing in front of him, eyes searching, hands trembling slightly at your sides, offering him everything despite the ticking clock on your wrist. Despite the fact that your soulmate was still out there, waiting.

Minghao should have walked away. Should have been noble. Should have let you go before you could regret this, before you could realize that love, without fate behind it, could still crumble.

But he had spent months loving you in silence. He had spent months letting you fill the spaces between his ribs, settling into his bones like a song he could never forget.

So he stepped closer.

“You can’t take it back,” he murmured, barely above a whisper.

You frowned. “What?”

“If you choose me, you can’t take it back. Not when your timer runs out, not when—” his voice broke, but he forced himself to continue—“not when you meet them.”

Something in your expression shifted. The way the light flickered across your face, the way your breath hitched like you suddenly realized what you were doing.

But then your fingers reached for his, slow, deliberate.

“I don’t care,” you said, voice shaking but firm. “I don’t care about a timer, or some stranger I haven’t met. I care about you, Minghao. And I choose you.”

It was everything he had ever wanted.

It was everything he had feared.

Because love was never just a choice. Love was cruel. Love was fate and timing and inevitability. Love was a thief, and it stole from him the moment your words settled between them like a vow.

Because one day your timer would run out.

And when it did—when you met the person you were supposed to belong to—Minghao knew you would leave.

Not because you wanted to. But because some things were stronger than words. Because fate always won in the end.

So he exhaled shakily, pressed his forehead against yours, and closed his eyes.

“Okay,” he whispered.

If this was all he would ever have of you, then he would take it.

Even if it destroyed him.

For a year, Xu Minghao believed he had conned fate. 

He convinced himself that love could exist outside of destiny. That the universe had miscalculated, that your hand in his was proof that numbers meant nothing.

And for a year, you were his.

Judi hai rahein saari tujhse meri

Every road, every path, every turn—somehow, they all led back to you.

It was in the mornings when he woke up to find you tangled in the sheets, your breathing slow, the weight of your arm draped over his chest like a quiet claim. Minghao never moved right away. He just lay there, memorizing the shape of you against him, the way the early light painted soft gold across your skin.

It was in the afternoons, where laughter spilled between you like an unspoken promise. The two of you existed in a world of inside jokes, of coffee shop debates over which pastry was superior, of whispered conversations in libraries where you barely managed to keep your voices down. You stole fries off his plate, he stole sips of your drink, and every moment felt like something infinite.

It was in the nights, when time folded in on itself, and there was only you. Only your voice, a quiet murmur against his shoulder. Only your hands, threading through his, pulling him deeper into a love he shouldn’t have had.

A love that shouldn’t have lasted.

Because your timer was still ticking.

Some nights, when the world was too quiet, he would trace patterns over your wrist with featherlight fingers, his touch lingering just long enough to make you ache. You would see it then—that fleeting sadness, the way his eyes darkened as if trying to memorize the numbers before they could betray him. Before they could betray both of you.

And so you would do the only thing you knew how to. You would curl yourself around him, press your lips to the hinge of his jaw, to the soft curve beneath his ear. You would kiss him until he forgot about it, until he forgot about everything but the way your body molded against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, the way you whispered his name like he was the only future you could ever want, like he was something worth staying for.

So he loved you recklessly, desperately, like a man who had borrowed time and dared to believe it was his own.

For a while, it worked.

For a while, he let himself believe that your love was louder than fate.

And then—

Then your timer hit zero.

The day your timer hit zero, Minghao was at your apartment, waiting. The scent of your favorite takeout filled the space, boxes neatly stacked on the counter. He had set the table the way you liked—your favorite glass, extra sauce on the side, a pair of chopsticks resting beside his own. A quiet offering of comfort, a piece of him saying I know today was hard, but I am here.

When he heard the sound of your keys turning in the lock, he turned toward the door, ready to greet you with warmth, with open arms.

But the moment you stepped inside, something was different.

Your smile faltered, just barely. Your breath caught, almost imperceptibly. Your fingers hovered at your wrist, pressing into the skin as if trying to hold something in place, as if trying to stop time from moving forward.

Minghao had always been good at reading between the lines. He didn’t need to ask.

“It happened, didn’t it?”

His voice was too calm. Too steady. A whisper against the quiet, like speaking too loudly would make the walls collapse around you both.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “At the café,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t expecting it.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and irreversible. Minghao exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the untouched meal he had laid out for you, as if the smallest details of your shared life could somehow keep you tethered to him. As if love could be measured in cups of jasmine tea and takeout containers.

“Do you love them?”

The question came quietly, but it landed like a blow. You flinched, your fingers curling into fists. “Minghao, I love you.”

He smiled, soft and broken. A tragedy dressed as tenderness. “But you met them.”

Silence.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. The truth sat between you, thick and heavy, an inevitable thing. Minghao felt his world shift, splintering like glass beneath too much weight.

He had always known this was coming.

He had spent a year looking at your wrist in the dead of night, feeling the pulse beneath his fingertips like a countdown to an ending he could not stop. He had spent a year memorizing you, loving you, hoping—God, hoping—that maybe you would never reach zero. That maybe love could defy mathematics.

That maybe, just maybe, you would choose him.

But here you were. And here he was. And fate had finally caught up.

You took a step toward him, hesitant. “Minghao, please—”

“Don’t,” he said, so gently it hurt.

Because he had promised himself he wouldn’t make this harder for you. Because he had sworn he would let you go with grace, no matter how much it tore him apart.

He forced a breath, blinking up at the ceiling, willing his voice to stay steady. “Did it feel like the universe sighing in relief?”

You let out a shaky breath. “Minghao—”

“It’s okay.” His hands clenched at his sides before slowly, deliberately, he let them go. “It’s okay,” he repeated, even though nothing about this was okay.

Because he had always known he was just borrowing time.

And then—

Your hand reached for his.

Not out of hesitation, not out of guilt, but with purpose. With conviction. And when he finally looked at you, your eyes were burning. Steady. Unwavering.

“No,” you said, and your voice was stronger than it had ever been. “It didn’t feel like relief. It felt like the end of the world.”

Minghao’s breath hitched.

“I met them,” you continued, stepping closer, pressing your palm against his chest, where his heart was unraveling. “And I felt it, that shift, that pull. But it wasn’t you.” Your voice wavered, but you held on, gripping his hands like a lifeline. “It wasn’t the person who knows how I take my coffee. It wasn’t the person who stays up with me on my worst nights, who makes me laugh when I think I’ve forgotten how.”

His fingers curled around yours, tentative, as if he was afraid to believe it.

You swallowed hard. “I know what fate says. I know what the universe wants. But I—” You exhaled shakily, eyes searching his, pleading for him to understand. To believe you. “I chose you, Minghao.” Your voice broke, but you kept going. “I choose you.”

You brought his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, to the hands that had held you through every storm. “And I will keep choosing you.”

Minghao didn’t realize he was crying until you reached up, brushing the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs. His chest ached, torn between disbelief and the quiet, unbearable hope blooming in its place.

For a year, he had believed he was running on borrowed time.

He so desperately wanted to believe that time had never mattered at all.

Tu bhi kya yaad rakhega

Minghao wished he could forget. Wished he could peel every memory of you from his skin, let them slip through his fingers like grains of sand, like something never meant to be held onto in the first place.

But he knew he wouldn’t.

He would remember.

He would remember the way your laughter curled into the spaces between his ribs, how your touch had been an anchor, how every late-night conversation had felt like stitching his soul to yours.

You had carved yourself into him, written your name into the marrow of his bones, and there was no undoing it. No rewinding, no erasing. Only this—only the ruin you left behind.

You were crying. He wished he could hate you for it, wished he could feel something other than this unbearable ache, but all he wanted was to hold you, to wipe your tears away, to tell you that it was okay even when it wasn’t.

You tried to explain. You needed him to understand.

“It doesn’t change anything,” you whispered, voice trembling, breaking over the weight of the moment. “Meeting them—it doesn’t make my love for you any less real. It’s just… it’s different. It’s not stronger. It’s not—” Your breath hitched. “It’s not fair.”

It wasn’t. It never had been.

Tears streaked down your cheeks, and you gripped his hands like you were afraid he would slip away, like you could hold him here, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Minghao exhaled, slow, steady. He looked at you—really looked at you. The person he had loved in a way that defied reason, the person who had turned his life into something softer, something worth waking up to.

And yet, fate had taken that love and cracked it in half.

Judi hain raahein saari tujhse meri

"My paths are tied to yours."

You said it like it was a promise. But it felt like a wound.

Minghao pulled his hands from yours, gently, like he was untying a knot that had held for too long. Like if he did it softly enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

“You say that,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “but your wrist says otherwise.”

Your face crumpled, and something inside him shattered.

Because love wasn’t supposed to be a war against destiny. Because love wasn’t supposed to be a choice between what you wanted and what the universe had written for you.

But here you were. And here he was. And the universe was still waiting.

You left anyway.

Not right away. At first, you fought it. You fought it because you loved him, because you chose him—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You tried to pretend, tried to act as though nothing had shifted beneath the surface.

But Minghao was always watching, always noticing, even in the moments you thought you’d hidden the truth. He saw the quiet distance between your fingertips when you reached for him. He saw the way your eyes would glaze over, distant and lost, as though you were somewhere else, with someone else. He saw how your voice cracked when you mentioned them—their name—like it was nothing.

It was a betrayal he didn’t know how to describe, but he felt it all the same. The way the rhythm of your heart had started to slip out of sync with his, like the song that once belonged to both of you was now missing its key notes.

Your laughter, which once felt like home, was no longer his.

You didn’t want to hurt him, not really, but you couldn’t ignore what had happened.

“Minghao,” you said one night, your voice trembling as it fell from your lips. "I don’t want to hurt you."

He didn't answer right away, but the silence between you was as loud as a thousand storms crashing together.

Sona tha tera ve jhootha

Your gold-dipped promises had been false, empty, but it didn’t matter because he still loved you.

"Go," he said, his voice steady, almost cold in the dim light of the room. His heart was a hurricane, but his words were a calm before the storm. "You’re already halfway out the door."

The words were a punch to his own chest. They weren’t born out of anger, but out of this quiet, painful truth. He could feel the space between the two of you growing wider with every passing second, and he couldn’t force you to stay when your heart wasn’t there anymore.

He didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t let go. But he already felt your absence creeping into the corners of his mind, into the small, delicate spaces where you had once existed as his everything.

You froze at the door, the silence between you thick with the weight of what had come to pass. You knew it, too. The finality in his voice, the way he saw through every excuse you tried to tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, choking on the words that burned in your throat, words that had no place in this story, not anymore. "I never meant for this to happen."

Minghao didn’t move. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t beg you to stay. He couldn’t be the one to break and shatter everything when you had already made your choice.

“Go,” he repeated, quieter this time, but somehow that made it even worse. The absence of anger, the quiet surrender to what was inevitable.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Minghao stood there for a long time, staring at the space you once occupied.

But in the hollow silence, he heard your heartbeat, still tangled with his, still beating somewhere, even if it was no longer in sync with his own.

Lakh samjhaun main taan, dil samajh nahi paata

He told himself it was for the best. That this was the only way. He couldn't hold onto someone who was meant for someone else, someone who had already found their place, their soulmate. He kept repeating it in his head, like a mantra, like it was a truth he could believe in. But even the strongest words felt weak against the tide of his emotions.

But his heart, that damn heart of his—it didn’t listen. It never listened.

He couldn’t make it stop. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he told himself that this was what was right, what was logical, the truth always bled through—the truth of how much he still loved you. How much he always would.

And so he sat in the silence of his empty apartment, a place that used to feel like home, but now felt like a stranger’s house. The emptiness gnawed at him, not because of the space you’d left, but because of the parts of him that had vanished with you.

Rang do dinon mein chhoota

The color of your love faded faster than he could comprehend. The once-vibrant moments of tenderness between you two were now dull, drained, leaving behind only the cold ache of what could have been. What should have been. He could almost hear your laughter echoing in the silence, but it was distant, like a song on the wind that he could never quite reach.

How quickly it all fell apart. How quickly the thing he had fought for, the thing he had clung to with every part of himself, was slipping from his grasp, like sand through his fingers. His chest ached with it, a sharp, gnawing pain that refused to leave.

You were the one. He had known it. Fate had made that clear, even if fate had played some cruel game with him. How could something so perfect feel so incomplete now?

He didn’t hate you. He could never hate you. Not when you were the one his soul had always craved, the one he had always sought in his dreams, in his waking moments, in every fleeting thought.

But the bitterness lingered.

It lingered at the edges of his heart like a stain that wouldn’t wash away. He hated the universe for showing him something so beautiful only to rip it apart. He hated the fact that he had loved you so completely, only to be forced to let you go. He hated the feeling of emptiness that came with that love—empty but full of everything he would never get to have.

He sat there, in the dark, the silence louder than any words could ever be. He didn’t know when it would stop hurting. Maybe it never would.

Maybe he would just learn to live with the ache.

Years later, he saw you again.

It was at a bookstore, the kind where the scent of old paper clings to the air like nostalgia. Rain dripped from the edges of his umbrella, the soft patter against the pavement a soundtrack to his every step. He wasn’t expecting it. He wasn’t looking for you. Yet, there you were.

You were standing by the window, flipping through a novel, your face bathed in the soft glow of the lights above. You didn’t notice him at first, lost in the pages, your brow furrowed in concentration. But when you looked up and your eyes met his, everything inside him stopped.

His heart twisted.

“Minghao,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the moment.

“Hi,” he replied. His smile was practiced, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile that lived in the places where pain and love collided, only to become something unrecognizable.

There was so much left unsaid between you two. So much more than the weight of those two syllables could carry. But you only said, “I still don’t believe in soulmates.”

He laughed. It was hollow, like an empty echo in a quiet room. “You don’t have to. The universe does.”

Har koi yaar nahi hunda, ve bulleya.

Not everyone gets to be a lover.

The words felt heavier in the space between you two, like a truth neither of you had ever really wanted to face.

He turned and walked away, the rhythm of his footsteps mixing with the rain's quiet murmur. He left you standing there, by the window, where light met shadow and memories lingered in the air.

The world felt smaller now, smaller than the spaces between your heartbeats.

Jaa, Raanjhan, Raanjhan, Raanjhan Go, Raanjhan. Go, the one I loved. Tu bhi kya yaad rakhega? What will you even remember? Jaa, Heer ne tainu chhod diya Go, for Heer has let you go.

tagging: @ottersmind @blvenote @kyeomsworld @cookiearmy @armycarat2612 @rjea @xylatox @flwrshwa

@christinewithluv @headlockimnida @letwiiparkjay @cherr-y-eji @codeinbelle @baguette-atiny @whoa-jo @noiceoofed @thestraybunny @smiileflower @gam3bo17

[cherrynflowergarden]

𓇢𓆸 CHERRYNFLOWERGARDEN SPEAKS...!

ᴇʟʟɪᴇ☼ desi, XVIII, she/her, logan sargeant defender, sylvia plath, regulus black kinnie, bollywood enthusiast, literature and psychology, six of crows, music, pink, bows, flowers, sturniolo triplets, stuffed toys, books, f1, cricket, football.

🎧 lana del rey, mitski, taylor swift, arctic monkeys, the neighborhood, sabrina carpenter, gracie abrams, olivia rodrigo, conan gray, noah kahan, azooz, arijit singh, shreya ghoshal, atif aslam, roop kumar rathod, rahet fateh ali khan.

come say hi; my page is always open to talk and yap:) requests open! (although i take hell lot of time to write them:/ ) anons are appreciated<3

i hope anyone reading this has an absolute lovely day. i'm so proud of you and i'm glad you exist. i love you<3

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 || 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 || 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[storyofmychoices]

It's hard to pick 5 when I write for so many couples! So I'm breaking the list into 2 sections, the first five are the "top" five I'm submitting for @choicesficwriterscreations. They consist only of fics that didn't make my tumblr top 5. After the break there are some other fics that I really am proud of this year which also consist of fics already attributed to my tumblr top 5.

Top 5 for CFWC

💛 Bitten by Love: Vampire!Daenarya feeds on her favorite human. [Blades AU] *I had this silly little idea for a Vampire Blades AU but I love it more than I thought I could and definitely would love to explore it more!

💛 Whispers in the Fog:  Daenarya and Mal both reflect on the journey so far and share a moment too [Blades 1] *I love all versions of Mal x Daenarya but those early moments at the start of their relationship are always some of my favorite to explore. I loved getting back to that.

💛 Neon Glow: Bryce and Olivia enjoy some fun during laser tag with their friends. [Open Heart] *This was in WIP for over 2 years so I'm glad to have finally finished it.

💛 International Day of Women and Girls in Science: Magazine Interview with Olivia, Merida (@lilyoffandoms), and Casey (@jerzwriter) for International Day of Women in Science. [Open Heart] *I've never written an interview style story before so this was interesting to explore with these three beautiful ladies.

💛 Of Leaves & Laughter: Mal and the boys are cleaning up around the orphanage when Mal has an idea to make things more interesting. [Blades—Orphanage Series] *The orphanage is my favorite so I always love writing that series but also I enjoyed seeing a little flashback to Mal's childhood

Bonus Fics:

💛 Autumn's Embrace: Bryce and Olivia find magic in the small moments of autumn. *Because Bryce and Olivia dancing in every day moments is my favorite

💛 Safe: Mal contemplates life as he watches over Daenarya. *I just love them. The mood of this fic is so sft and I just love that for them.

💛 Through the Pain: Emilia takes Jun up on his offer to try the punching bag. [The Deadliest Game] *This is my first TDG fanfic; I enjoyed getting to know Emilia a bit more through it.

💛 Yoga & Pancakes: Emma, Shreya, and Atlas run into Beckett at breakfast and Emma discovers a new Attuned food. [The Elementalists] *I missed Beckett. I loved revisiting him and Emma

These made my tumblr top 5 but I really loved writing them so wanted to mention them again.

💛 Hidden Romance: Lilah makes an interesting discovery at Trystan's apartment. [Crimes of Passion] *Just another silly idea I had that I had to bring to life

💛 The Princess of Parnassus and The Trophy Husband: Daenarya and Mal enjoy a much needed relaxing afternoon while contemplating what comes next. [Blades 2 AU] *This wasn't supposed to be an engagement fic, but I love how it turned out, it seems just right for them...

💛 Adventures with Threep: Three vignettes of Threep's life with Rayden, Mal, and Daenarya. [Blades] *I've wanted to write Pregnant!Threep since book one, so I was excited to finally tell this story, or at least the beginning of it hehe

[practicalromantic]

my attempt at making one of those cute intro pages but i keep forgetting what stuff i even like (scatterbrain alert) so bear with me 🤡

im an xx chromosome human

infj, introvert and a pathological people pleaser

i like reading, writing, cooking, math, nature, animals, travelling and any physical activity that involves walking

i loovve six of crows. also shadow and bone but obviously the soc duology is the goat.

also like the hunger games, the lunar chronicles, harry potter. i have a thing for mystery/psychology related novels as well.

artists i like: taylor swift, gracie abrams, olivia rodrigo, sabrina carpenter, maisie peters, chappel roan and lily kincade

indian, so i also listen to hindi music. favourite artists currently are probably arijit singh, sonu nigam and shreya ghoshal

i adore modern family. also himym

i like watching romcom kind of movies like 10 things i hate about you, the hot chick and to all the boys i loved before. also bollywood movies (last watched movie jodha akbar)

feminist

i also have an unhealthy obsession with pendants and jhumkas

NOTE: i tend to make a lot of typos in my posts because i type like a crazy person on tumblr and apparently can't be bothered to read the final thing before posting it. so please excuse my carelessness i promise i'm literate 😭

[romeclipse]

welcome to my blog!

𖹭 you can call me shreya/rey :)

𖹭 aries. 20. desi. infj. english major.

𖹭 interests :

— music : hozier, ethel cain, moondog, noah kahan, sabrina carpenter, taylor swift, laufey, beabadoobee, phoebe bridgers

— aesthetics : coquette, cottagecore, light and dark academia

— media : mofy, abbott elementary, succession, fleabag, good omens, interview with the vampire, 9-1-1

𖹭 i like to read classics or feelgood romance novels and also write sometimes, my favorite pastime activity is watching sitcoms but i've also learnt to crochet recently!

𖹭 all terfs and bigots dni.

𖹭 my dms are open but sometimes i might take longer to respond depending on college hours and the like :) drop a follow if you'd like to be friends!

[wishing-on-a-staranise]

We're wanderers, the lot of us.

(mixtape - side a)

Challa - A.R. Rahman, Rabbi, Gulzar

Ek akela is sheher mein - Bhupinder Singh

Kun faya kun - A.R. Rahman, Javed Ali, Mohit Chauhan

Aaj jaane ki zid na karo - Farida Khanum

Iktara - Amit Trivedi, Kavita Seth, Amitabh Bhattacharya

Bin tere - Vishal-shekhar, Shafqat Amanat Ali, Sunidhi Chauhan

Love is a waste of time - Sonu Nigam, Shreya ghoshal

Saibo -Sachin-jigar, Shreya Ghosal, Tochi Raina

Balam pichkari -Pritam, Vishal Dadlani, Shalmali Kholgade

Badtameez dil - Prtam, Benny Dayal, Shefali Alvares

Uff Teri adaa - Shankar Mahadevan, Alyssa Mendonsa

Aao Milo chalo - Pritam, Shaan, Sultan Khan

Ae zindagi gale laga le - Ilaiyaraaja, Amit Trivedi, Arijit singh

Jhumritalaiya - Pritam, Arijit Singh, Mohan Kannan

Je t'aime - Vishal-shekhar, Vishal Dadlani, Sunidhi Chauhan, Jaideep Sahni

A/n: these are the songs for the first five chapters of wwtlou!! why the first five?? because that is as far as i have made it in terms of outlining the basic story (bear with me, i'm not fast with this stuff) i'm so excited to write this fic tho i'll start posting and reblogging on a regular basis from may !! i'll still be online but i wont be posting more than a few reblogs every now and then (ty for being patient with my fics ik they take time but i'll make them worth your while!!)

also thank you for liking 'you, me, lonely' so much <3333

taglist: @luvsersi @bitch-biblioklept @avianawrites @lauenderhaze @kaverichauhan @hollandweather @procrastinationprincesses @eddiesguitarskills let me know if u wanna be added or removed from the taglist <3

[whatinthehale17]

Okay so, this is a bit of long shot but I'm planning on starting a fanmade project for TE. It's my favorite choices story and there's still so much you can do with it.

I'm currently figuring out how to use Ren'py right now and watching videos and what not to figure out how to do this. I'm pretty new to all this but I think it'd be a fun project.

I'm probably gonna do some of the writing like the plot and Shreya's route (best girl) and also as I said I'm figuring out the coding as well.

But I'm definitely gonna need some help on this. I know others have expressed interest in a 3rd book and now is your chance if you're willing to help. Again it's fanmade and we're not making money off of this, this is just for fun and you can bail at any time.

I'll be making a discord once I start to get some interest in this so the link will be up at some point but if you're interested, just comment saying you'd like to help and what you'll be able to provide for this project.

Co-runner- I'm gonna need someone to help me run this project, help me keep the thing running and I'm a bit of an idiot so I'll be coming to you if I need help with anything. You'll be the Atlas to my MC lmao.

Artist- If you're a good drawer or you just love to draw and wanna help out on this project, we'd love to have you. I'm thinking we'll need some new characters for the plot and if you want, maybe some new backgrounds too (or we could just pick ones from the multiple backgrounds choices already has)

Writer- I'm a lesbian and obsessed with Shreya so I don't really have any idea about the other routes. But I know a lot of people are obsessed with like Beckett and the other love interests so anyone willing to help work on the different routes would be great. Not to mention the plot of the book, the adventures the pend pals could be getting into and side stuff like your relationship with your mom and the villains and such.

Coders- Like any great game, we'd need people who can code or wanna try it out like I'm currently doing. I've always heard Ren'py is good for that stuff and that's what the ILW crew used and that's what I'm currently learning right now so if you wanna try it out or already know how, we'd appreciate the help.

And of course, if you just wanna help out, you can join and I'll figure something out for you to do. My work schedule is kind of whack right now so this week we probably won't be getting anything done unfortunately (maybe Thursday or Friday if I have people and what not) but hopefully the week after, i'll have things figured out.

Last but not least, my idea for how I think the plot should go-

The gang is back for their next year of school

MC, Shreya, Zeph, Beckett- Juniors

Griffin- Senior

Aster, Atlas- Sophomores

But just like always, the school year is never simple for them.

The High Attuned has been watching over the school and visiting more frequently, keeping an eye on you and Atlas.

Zeph is having trouble with Thief captain as much as he hates to admit it.

Griffin is having parent troubles after they found out about his interest in Natural disaster field work instead of being a professional Thief player.

Shreya has hired an assistant to help with Serene and Sublime, though the assistant keeps messing things up and causing Shreya to lose customers, important ones at that.

With Beckett's urge to please his professors, he works himself too much to the point he begins to experience burnout and freaks out over the smallest things resulting in him pushing his friends away.

Aster is having trouble running the shop and keeping up with her studies and she's worried she might have to close it down.

Atlas is happy to catch up on lost time with their mom but when their mom becomes a professor for the school, Atlas isn't exactly sure how to feel about it and starts to lash out on Theia, resulting in the MC to have to try and fix the relationship.

MC does their best to help everyone with their problems but begins to have problems of their own when the school recruits another sun-att who does everything in their power to one up MC in every way.

Of course, it's just a rough draft of how I think the year should go, but we could always change stuff around if people have better ideas. Also, of course, there will be new spells to learn like in the other books and I was also thinking like...was I the only one that shipped Dean Swan and Theia together? Like Dean Swan already acts like a mother figure to the twins. And some of the sources will be back like Gemma and I really wanted to incorporate the High Attuned because we got like two minutes of information about them and then nothing ever again.

So yeah, this is super long and we can talk more on the discord but if you're interested just tell me what you wanna do.

[siegfriedrice]

this pic was taken on the night of jan 12, 2024.

it always made me feel a certain way. i often thought about writing it down. the feeling. but it was too surreal.

me and my friend shreyas had gone to chennai to stay the night there on our way to Pondicherry. our friend guha lived there in a flat he shared with his classmates. we went straight to the terrace upon arriving.

And there it was. the river. the night sky. the faint rumble of a tired chennai. and the shuddering gait of an empty train, its lights reflecting on the river. idk why i felt or how i felt at that moment, but thankfully i took a pic of it. thank god i did it.

we ate store bought curry rice there.

later subhranil came over too. we drank, played board games. laughed and jested. then slept. the first time sleeping in a different state by myself.

maybe in the coming days I will be more apt at describing what i felt that day, or how that empty train made me feel.

but i guess i felt assurance among all the other things. that the guy who used to be my roommate, who had vented to me in his most trying times, is living by himself there now. but he'll be okay. and maybe perchance, i will be okay too.

and i get reminded of all the other things that happened that year, after that trip too.

thank you chennai for keeping my brother safe. thank you 2024 for being awesome.

[niaking]

My books are on sale for pride season. Usually $20 each, you can get all three volumes of Queer & Trans Artists of Color for only $50 (and free shipping) until the end of June. These books include interviews with Janet Mock, Julio Salgado, Vivek Shraya and more! Get the discount here. Full listing of interviewees below the break.

VOLUME ONE (2014) ​CO-EDITED BY TERRA MIKALSON & JESSICA GLENNON-ZUKOFF

Mixed-race queer art activist Nia King left a full-time job in an effort to center her life around making art. Grappling with questions of purpose, survival, and compromise, she started a podcast called We Want the Airwaves in order to pick the brains of fellow queer and trans artists of color about their work, their lives, and “making it” - both in terms of success and in terms of survival.

In this collection of interviews, Nia discusses fat burlesque with MAGNOLIAH BLACK, queer fashion with KIAM MARCELO JUNIO, interning at Playboy with JANET MOCK, dating gay Latino Republicans with JULIO SALGADO, intellectual hazing with KORTNEY RYAN ZIEGLER, gay gentrification with VAN BINFA, getting a book deal with VIRGIE TOVAR, the politics of black drag with MICIA MOSELY, evading deportation with YOSIMAR REYES, weird science with RYKA AOKI, gay public sex in Africa with NICK MWALUKO, thin privilege with FABIAN ROMERO, the tyranny of “self-care” with LOVEMME CORAZÓN, “selling out” with MISS PERSIA and DADDIE$ PLA$TIK, the self-employed art-activist hustle with LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA, and much, much more. Buy book one here.

VOLUME TWO (2016) ​CO-EDITED BY ELENA ROSE

Building on the groundbreaking first volume, Queer and Trans Artists of Color: Stories of Some of Our Lives, Nia King is back with a second archive of interviews from her podcast We Want the Airwaves. She maintains her signature frankness as an interviewer while seeking advice on surviving capitalism from creative folks who often find their labor devalued.

In this collection of interviews, Nia discusses biphobia in gay men’s communities with JUBA KALAMKA, helping border-crossers find water in the desert with MICHA CÁRDENAS, trying to preserve Indigenous languages through painting with GRACE ROSARIO PERKINS, revolutionary monster stories with ELENA ROSE, using textiles to protest police violence with INDIRA ALLEGRA, trying to respectfully reclaim one’s own culture with AMIR RABIYAH, taking on punk racism with MIMI THI NGUYEN, the imminent trans women of color world takeover with LEXI ADSIT, queer life in WWII Japanese American incarceration camps with TINA TAKEMOTO, hip-hop and Black Nationalism with AJUAN MANCE, making music in exile with MARTÍN SORRONDEGUY, issue-based versus identity-based organizing with TRISH SALAH, ten years of curating and touring with the QTPOC arts organization Mangos With Chili with CHERRY GALETTE, raising awareness about gentrification through games with MATTIE BRICE, self-publishing versus working with a small press with VIVEK SHREYA, and the colonial nature of journalism school with KILEY MAY. The conversation continues. Buy book two here.

VOLUME THREE (2019) ​CO-EDITED BY MALIHA AHMED

Is it possible to make art and make rent without compromising your values? Nia King set out to answer this question when she started We Want the Airwaves podcast in 2013. In her Queer & Trans Artists of Color book series, Nia collects podcast interviews — with Black, Latinx, Asian, Middle Eastern and Indigenous LGBTQ writers, musicians and visual artists — which feature both incredible storytelling and practical advice.

In the latest installment of the Queer & Trans Artists of Color series, Nia discusses performing at the White House with VENUS SELENITE, the global nature of colorism with KAMAL AL-SOLAYLEE, writing for Marvel Comics with GABBY RIVERA, using lies to tell unspeakable truths with KAI CHENG THOM, Black mental health with ANTHONY J. WILLIAMS, curating diverse anthologies with JOAMETTE GIL, growing up trans in rural Idaho with MEY RUDE, covering crime as a baby-faced reporter with SAM LEVIN, feminist approaches to journalism with SARAH LUBY BURKE, documenting Black punk history with OSA ATOE, crossing color lines with QWO-LI DRISKILL, fat hairy brown goddesses with PARADISE KHANMALEK, the usefulness of anger with JIA QING WILSON-YANG, transitioning as death and rebirth with ARIELLE TWIST, surviving homelessness and touring the world with STAR AMERASU and much, much more. Buy book three here.

[notyouraryang0dd3ss]

also i've got beef with tyalor the lyricist because god did mitski not write / IAnd the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape / I looked over it and I ached / for her stupid tattooed golden retriever to be hailed as the poet of the generation.

-shreya again (god you're turning into my coping person now that my cousin blasting the new album in my year)

hi shreyaaaaa

mitski is such a talented songwriter. im glad one of her songs went viral on tiktok, she deserves a much bigger audience!! taylor swift has so many titles and accolades she doesn’t deserve and songwriter of the generation is one of them!! we need to make a bingo card of her worst lyrics

[mortemersgf]

Hi I don't know if I'm characterizing Beckett correctly but he seems like someone who would be really soft with his partner and would show a sweet side that others typically don't see right?

What if you wrote a fic where he's cuddling or just spending some sweet time with a partner (is female! reader okay?) and they get interrupted by the rest of the Pend Pals that are surprised?

Thanks!

The warm August weather sends a soft breeze filtering through the windows, gently rustling the curtains. In the distance, you hear Aster shrieking with delight as Zeph yells, “Cannonball!” Shreya screeches for Atlas to ‘get away from her’ while Griffin laughs uncontrollably, endeared by the sight of his friends letting loose and having fun.

Vacations at Shreya’s lake house are always filled with raucous laughter and endless shenanigans, most of which you would participate in on regular bases. It might be the blazing sun or the food you ate this morning, but a pesky headache has rendered you rather sick and unable to join in on the fun. Instead, you’re curled up on the velvet sofa, resting your head on Beckett’s chest. Being the darling boyfriend that he is, he refuses to leave your side, wanting to make sure you’re taken care of.

You wish you had more energy, but the heat and the pain leave you disjointed and unable to cast a Blood magick spell to take the headache away. You simply lay there in Beckett’s arms, letting him stroke your hair and your back.

His touch is soothing and light, and despite the fact that it’s only five in the evening, you find yourself growing drowsy. It doesn’t help that he’s speaking in that saccharine tone to distract you from the irksome throbbing in your head. Beckett has a soothing voice in general, one that’s able to induce sleep in you within minutes.

He’s speaking about some recent advancements made in portal magick, and you hum absentmindedly, groaning as you shift to get some blood circulating in your arm that’s fallen asleep.

“Sure you don’t wanna go take a swim?” you mumble, glancing up at him.

“I’m quite sure, my love,” he says, “I want to spend what little alone time we have together.”

“Even if it includes cuddling with your sick girlfriend?”

“You say that as if I would ever turn down the opportunity to be with you, indisposed or not.”

You laugh, charmed by his comment. “Well, if you’re certain… c’mere, gimme a kiss.”

He tilts your head up, cupping your cheek with one hand to meet you in a sweet kiss. Satisfied, you settle back into your original position, murmuring, “Keep talking about portal magick.”

An hour passes by like this, your limbs tangled, laughter on your lips. By the time the sun sets, you’re asleep.

The rest of Pend Pals pad into the living room, still giddy from spending the day on the lake. Beckett pins them with a death glare and a finger to the lips, and they halt at the sight. A beat of silence passes between them.

Beckett grows pink. Aster coos quietly while Atlas pushes past everyone to get to her room, making an exaggerated face of disgust as she passes by. Zeph and Shreya hold back giggles, and no doubt a slew of teasing comments, as Griffin smiles fondly.

Moments later, they all disperse to prepare dinner. Atlas reemerges from her room with a blanket and tosses it at Beckett wordlessly, gliding away to pester Aster for scraps of food. Beckett straightens out the blanket and settles it atop you, brushing your hair to coax you back to sleep as you mumble incoherently.

The sound of a camera click goes off. Beckett’s head snaps up. Shreya gives him a pointed look, smiling when she says, “What? You guys look adorable. I’ll send it to you.”

She’d better.

a/n: hii anon tysm for the cute request!! i had fun writing this one :3 you characterized beckett perfectly, he’s a big softie when it comes to his s/o!

taglist: @mm2305 @holystxne @simpforbeckett @itsjustwinter @theclassycandy @sylviefilms @bluebellot

[lover-also-fighter-also]

😶😃😨👍 👎😡🎉🔞❓

For Anitha and Ria

Ask list here

hc + 😶 for a headcanon about a secret they know of / keep

Anitha:

One of my HC's about a secret that Anitha keeps is that though Atlas scorns Disney movies, Anitha once saw her crying at the end of Frozen, when Elsa hugs a frozen Anna. Since then, she has been using that against Atlas when she wants to get something done.

Ria:

Ria does not tell anyone about her cancer history, because she finally feels that people at Berry High like her for what she really is, and not come to her out of pity. The only two people who know about it is Maria and Emma.

hc + 😃 for a happiness-themed headcanon

Anitha:

Ahh...what to say, there are a lot of happiness-related HC's for Anitha. But one of my favorites include one of her and Griffin going to the Jersey Shore and enjoying the broadwalk rides and games, and mind you, Griffin is a sucker for teddy bears (+especially pink ones), and Anitha wins him one big, cute, fluffy one.

Ria:

One of my favorite happiness-themed HC's for Ria is the first time she had fast food. Being sick and all, she wasn't allowed to eat all kinds of food, so when Scott took her out to McDonalds, it was a huge treat for her, and ended up having too much ice-cream that day. Nevertheless, it was a happy memory.

hc + 😨 for a fear-themed headcanon

Anitha:

During the events of TE 2, when Atlas accidentally got hurt because of Anitha's blood magick outburst, she gets scared that she might lose control and hurt someone else and locks herself in her dorm room, refusing to meet anyone until Shreya drags her out and helps her air her emotions out.

Ria:

The thing Ria fears most is abandonment. She is scared of screwing up and driving away a person she loves. So, around the time when Maria was considering moving far away for college, Ria was worried about how it would effect their relationship and tried to stay calm, but her nerves took over and she had a full-bout panic attack. Since then, Maria would encourage her to be more open if she was worried about something.

hc + 👍 for a headcanon about things they like

Anitha:

Anitha is a nature kid. Being outdoors makes her feel that she is more in her element. Some of her favorite activities include playing sports (Thief and soccer are her favorites), going for motorcycle rides, hiking, camping, and stargazing.

Ria:

Ria likes calming and soothing activities that usually does not spike her adrenaline up. Some of them include playing the piano, writing poetry, baking, and curling up with a good book.

hc + 👎 for a headcanon about things they dislike

Anitha:

Physically, Anitha hates being holed up in one place and needs open spaces to think clearly. Emotionally, she dislikes letting others down or others trying to fight her battles.

Ria:

Physically, Ria is not much of a sports person, be it watching it or playing it. Emotionally, she dislikes it when people ghost her without giving a proper explanation because she would think its her fault that it was happening. Additionally, she hates conflicts and is the most conflict-avoidant person.

hc + 😡 for a headcanon about something that makes them angry

Anitha:

While she loves her foster parents, Anitha did feel momentarily angry with them when she found out that they knew that she was an attuned and they tried to keep that part of her life hidden from her. She felt that she missed out on a lot of things that an average attuned would know about and blames the lack of knowledge from her parents as the reason she felt out-of-place.

Ria:

Normally Ria is a calm person, but once she gets ticked off, she finds it very difficult to control her anger. One such incident was when Zoe called Maria a control freak and Ria lashes out and could have broken Zoe's nose if Maria wasn't there, squeezing her hand.

hc + 🎉 for a celebration-themed headcanon

Anitha:

My HC for one of the celebratory events for Anitha was her pre-wedding sangeeth (a fun event where everyone sings songs). I haven't decided much on what happens in the sangeeth, but it was truly a melodious one, considering how the bride and groom are both gifted singers.

Ria:

For Ria's high school graduation, she didn't expect Maria to come due to her heavy college schedule, but then Maria surprises her by coming for the ceremony. Ria's face was a mixture of shock and surprise before she ran over and hugged her, nearly knocking her off her feet. After the ceremony, Maria takes her to the cliffs for a private picnic to celebrate.

hc + ❓ for a headcanon of the receiver's choice

Anitha:

(for a weapon-themed headcanon)

Anitha's favorite weapon would be the the shadow-powered sword that she fought with in the mirror dimension, and the mace of Penderghast that she took from Dean Geoffe's office before battling Raife.

Ria:

(for a hair-themed headcanon)

One HC I have about Ria is her hairstyle. After she started to grow back her hair fully, she was determined not to let it go to waste and insisted on straightening it, curling it until she settled on classic waves, and would streak her hair ends with different hair dyes.

hc + 🔞 for a nsfw-headcanon

P.S Im not really good at nsfw's, so I apologize in advance

Anitha:

Anitha and Griffin are more into rough sex. They both like to do it fast, especially when they are hyped up on so much adrenaline after a victorious match.

Ria:

Ria likes sex going slow and sensual. She wants to savor every last moment of it and enjoy it. She is the little spoon of the relation.