#this is what i think about when im opening

[gumii-bearr]

idea maybes

academic rival/nerd satoru… him acting all high and mighty and then is an utter virgin (but you are tew so you too together are hopeless)

YESSSSSSSS HAHAHAHA

thinking about... ❝ hopeless nerds ❞

featuring... satoru gojo

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, nerd!virgin!gojo, nerd!virgin!reader, academic rivals, two dorks, gojo is such an asshole, smut, creampie, praise kink, masturbation, inexperienced dorks tryna bang, dare i say crybaby dom gojo, sexual tension, somnophilia, sexually frustrated nerds

author's note: im sorry i haven't posted in a while!!!! my town has flooded and we've lost power a few times and i can't leave my house :,)

── nerd!gojo immediately pissing you off the moment he opens his fucking mouth.

── nerd!gojo who shares a few classes with you and he's always talking over you, has to prove your points wrong even when you back them up with facts and research.

── he does it to make you mad, you know he does. he does it because it's so easy to make you mad and it's fucking cute how your nose scrunches and how you fold your arms over your chest and give him the cold shoulder the rest of the lesson.

── "fuck you, satoru."

── "oh you wish, sweetheart."

── nerd!gojo who purposely sits next to you in class because he knows his presence drives you up the wall.

── he points out holes in your research, steals your pens off your desk, leans on your shoulder and stays there no matter how much to elbow his side, there is no peace with him.

── nerd!gojo who is tied for best grade in the class with none other than you. and fuck it makes him mad, though he would never admit it.

── nerd!gojo who teases you when you're even a single point behind him when you get your grades back.

── nerd!gojo who never hears the end of it when you do better than him on a test or essay.

── nerd!gojo who may find you annoying, but he also finds your competitiveness and smart-ass demeanour fucking hot.

── you're the only person to ever one-up him. give him a run for his place as the smartest guy in class.

── you're single-handedly his motivation to do better in class. not because he wants to, but because he needs to win.

── you're so smug when you win and you're so hot-headed when you don't. he starts to find it fucking confusing when you bicker with him or insult his intelligence and he finds it... hot.

── you could be calling him every colourful name under the sun and he would just stand there and take it with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face and his eyes peeking over his sunglasses and staring at your pretty lips.

── nerd!gojo who is also virgin!gojo, which you would never have guessed with how he holds himself– always so outwardly confident and always has soooo much to say.

── virgin!gojo who has maybe kissed two girls his whole life, forced to hole himself up in his dorm and fist his cock when he's so beyond frustrated.

── virgin!gojo who finds himself starting to think about... you.

── virgin!gojo who thinks about burying his virgin cock inside you, fucking you stupid on his cock since you always seem to have something to say.

── you find it fucking weird when he doesn't shoot back with a sarcastic comment one morning, his eyes unable to meet yours.

── now you know something's wrong because it always makes gojo's day when he sees your face flush and watches you stomp around all angry and annoyed at him.

── virgin!gojo who doesn't know what to do when he's cornered by you in the library, and for the first time, he sees you be genuine toward him.

── "aw, you care about me."

── "you know what? forget it."

── virgin!gojo who knows he needs to just shut his big mouth for once and he finally does– by slamming you against the closest bookshelf and messily kissing you like his life depends on it.

── virgin!gojo who realises he's super out of practice when it comes to kissing... or maybe you're both bad.

── virgin!gojo who panics when he gets you back to his dorm room, clumsy fingers pulling your clothes off while you nervously pull at his.

── it's slow and it's messy and there's very obviously an elephant in the room that neither of you want to address.

── but you finally bite the bullet.

── "i'm a virgin."

── "you telling me no one's ever wanted to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you?"

── "don't piss me off."

── virgin!gojo who admits he too is a virgin.

── the two of you acknowledge that there's been a sexual tension brewing between you two for a while... so maybe you should just fuck it out.

── virgin!gojo who sinks to his knees, throwing your thighs over his shoulders and pressing his curious tongue against your soaked slit.

── no one's ever touched you like that– you're getting riled up just seeing him between your thighs.

── virgin!gojo who is finally fucking quiet and lets you show him when you guide him on how to finger you. you show him where to touch you, how to touch you, where to lick and suck on you.

── and virgin!gojo who listens and he's a fast learner because he wants to please you.

── and when virgin!gojo finally sinks his huge fucking cock inside you. you nearly fucking scream.

── and virgin!gojo who has no idea he's big. no one's ever seen his cock, or felt it. he's had nothing to compare it to–

── "you're so fucking big."

── "oh, yeah? you like it, baby?"

── virgin!gojo who didn't think he'd like dirty talk as much as he does. but he likes how you whine and moan just from his voice, how he can rile you up and have you soaking his dick and the sheets just from telling you what a good girl you are.

── but also virgin!gojo who is a fucking whiner when he's getting close to his high. your virgin cunt is so warm and tight, he's never experienced such fucking bliss.

── he's whining about how good you feel, how he's never felt something so fucking mind-blowing. he just keeps fucking talking cus if he doesn't he's gonna cum.

── and virgin!gojo who fucking cries when he cums because he's on cloud fucking nine. his hips slap erratically, his thrusts are shallow and fast as he approaches his high and his fists curl into the sheets by your head to keep him grounded.

── and you just wrap your arms around his neck, hold him close as he breathes in your intoxicating scent, arms wrapped around you as he keeps his cock buried inside you alongside the ropes of cum he messily spilled inside you.

── and nerd!gojo who keeps his cock buried inside you all night, unable to part from your tight warmth.

── and you don't mind, you just pet his hair and tell him how good he did.

── and of course, nerd!gojo who wakes you up with quiet breathes by your ear, his hips slapping against your plush ass because he can't get enough of you.

── nerd!gojo who makes it his mission to make you cum. obsessed with watching you fall apart on his tongue and his fingers, or on his cock or his thigh.

── really just nerd!gojo who finds out a lot about himself and is no longer virgin!gojo because of you.

author's note: someone bring me a NERD RIGHT NOW

permanent taglist: @exclusiverinaa @starpachinko @kentotism @gumisueme @arcanefeelings @cyslips @sojumamii @naammiii @jvpit3rr @nvvxlaya @2ukika @ashyiiy @jud3thedude @antiblfanon14 @capsule-losing-contact @mrs-okkotsu222 @somethinglikero @raya4643 @julieannah @arasakaa @luciferslover @re-tired-succubus @xastoriaaurax @girlexpensive @sobbingscripter @bakuhoe37 @doechiiyz @evergumi @showtimejoseph @kimkimoruo

[flowermist7432]

Taking the "Fix" outta the equation what I am gonna say is deliberately a scoffer, and generally coined as Unhelpful; because the ones saying it are often misunderstanding parents or masses of "Arm-Chair Girlies" who think being condesending about therapy and medications is all anyone ever needs.

But, sincerely start trying to go outside. Put time out of your day to find a specific spot that you feel most comfortable and make it a habit. Make it a time that you can look forward to! Walking the dog, Biking, exercise, reading, gardening, bird watching. If you disabled and just find it hard for whatever reason- maybe open a window or sit in the backyard, porch. Open your bedroom curtains for all thats heavens.

And always, ALWAYS get dressed before you head out. I think its best to put on an outfit you really like and can be comfortable in! Im not saying you HAVE to get dressed to the nines, but I am saying dont go out looking like a bum. I dont care what your top shirt is or make up or any o' that, but you gotta brush your hair and put on some sorta pants. This also helps you get into the mindset of "I am going somewhere". I even use this trick for when I am not even going anywhere! I just put on my clothes and shoes and It immediately makes me concious and alert and even start thinking "hm well I am dressed i COULD go outside..."

In the words of Jake the dog;

"Yeah? Dont you always call sweatpants 'give up on life' pants Jake?"

"I do because peeps need to respect themselves when they leave the house, even if its just for ice cream or TP or whatevs."

[menofprogress]

Some of the most (imho) insane choices they made wrg to jayce and viktor:

- having jayce look at viktors crotch post sourdough starter not once, not twice, not thrice but FOUR times. And making it look like hes always catching himself, but cant help it.

- having fire mel turn into fire viktor, essentially comparing the two in jayces mind. What makes this more significant is the lack of other ppl, like if it was "just" about ppl who are important to jayce, why not include his mom or cait?

- jayce rembering viktor with an extremely soft smile on his face, when viktor didnt smile at all in the actual scene. Like it doesnt even matter if jayce is misremembering, imagining, or seeing something that we, the audience, cant. It could be any of those and it wouldnt be any less insane.

- viktor NEVER taking the blanket off, like???? Bro lived in that thing and im just supposed to be normal??

- viktors straight up refusal to believe jayce would hurt him or be against him. Like he cant fathom a world where him and jayce are genuinely enemies and even when theyre actually fighting hes still never going for a killing blow bc he STILL wants to leave the door open for jayce to return to him.

- the sheer fact that viktor does not want to live in ANY world without jayce and is deadass risking the fate of the entire world bc he needs jayce to survive and find him

- and jayce doesnt want to either!!!! He chose to stay and die with viktor even when viktor absolutely believed he would leave him after ~all that~. He could have returned to his mother, mel and cait, but hed literally rather not come back at all than live in a world without viktor like wtf???

- literally the way viktor cant stay mad at jayce? It doesnt happen much, but jayce can be hurtful (the undercity comment) not think things through (building weapons) and actively go against viktors wishes (not destroying the hexcore) and viktor absolutely is mad about that, but he can never STAY mad. Bro, jayce shot him point blank and viktor was like "ah well. Maybe i need to throw him around a little so he can listen to me?"

[darlingdaisyfarm]

r you still open for requests? if so and if you havent done this, stan twins taking care of reader on their period? im on my period rn and i lowkey am craving for it,, /nf!!

❥ Stan & Ford taking care of you on your period headcanons <3

a/n: oh anon this one's for you and for everyone dealing with the struggle right now <333 may ur cramps be mild 🙏

STANLEY

★ “what do you mean you feel like garbage?? you were fine an hour ago! what happened?? who do I have to fight??” and when you explain, he just. OH. THAT.

★ “okay, okay, don’t freak out, but,” he digs around in some closet and pulls out a very old hot water bottle. “this thing got me through some rough winters. i hope this will, uh. . . stop the angry uterus thing.”

★ if anyone (Soos, Dipper, some poor clueless tourist) makes a dumb joke about “mood swings,” Stan will protect you. “oh, you think that’s funny? let’s see how funny it is when I lock you in the Mystery Shack bathroom for a week with no toilet paper!”

★ will not let you lift a finger. so worried about your state he physically shoves you back down if you try to do anything. “nope. nope, nuh-uh, baby, don’t even think about it.”

★ if you're dying from pain and nothing helps, he just holds you close while dramatically saying “oh sweetheart, if only nature was FAIR, it’d be me bleeding instead! why this world is so unfair????”

★ of course he buys you snacks. SO MANY SNACKS. he heard somewhere that chocolate helps, so now he’s bought four different brands of cheap chocolate bars from the gas station

“uh, i got these. one of ‘em’s gotta be the magic one, right?”

★ “old man Mcgucket says bark tea fixes everything. should we. . . should we try bark tea?”

★ once Stanley pulled out a beer and immediately regretted it. “. . . wait, no, that’s for me.”

★ ofc he cooks for you. he’s a big believer that food fixes all things, even if he doesn’t understand the science of it. makes you the heartiest, greasiest, most filling meal he can. you might not even want it but it’s the intent. it's the love. (and if you actually ask for something? he’ll make it with no hesitation)

★ you look even slightly like you’re in pain?? immediate concern. hunched over? “alright, that’s it, you’re going on the couch.” he literally herds you over with his hands on your shoulders, forces you to get comfortable. “c'mon, c'mon, up ya go. feet up. blanket on. there ya go.”

★ lovingly teases you when you cry over dumb stuff, but only a little. “you're cryin’ over a commercial? sweetie, c’mon.” wipes your tears anyway. kisses your forehead after.

★ grocery store trip. Stanley standing in the feminine hygiene aisle, he calls you from the store like, “baby, what the hell is ultra-thin? why are there WINGS on these? you gonna fly away or somethin’? :(”

★ i have a feeling he'll get the wrong ones. Stan comes home proud of himself only for you to be like Stan these are panty liners. he’s FLABBERGASTED. “they were in the same aisle!! they had the same stupid pink packaging!!”

★ eventually, he settles into his caretaking mode, ruffles your hair, makes bad jokes to make you laugh even when you feel awful. if you get emotional from the hormones he panics a little but ultimately just lets you cry on his shoulder and pats your back

★ mutters “alright, where’s it hurt, lemme at it.” then massages your lower back, rubs your stomach clumsily but gently. Stan is determined to physically get rid of your pain somehow even if that’s not how it works

★ makes you rest by putting on a movie and forcing you to stay put. he picks the weirdest mix of old action flicks, crime shows and one sappy romance he swears he doesn’t like. (he totally does.)

★ if you’re in pain he's gonna fix it. but since he can’t punch your uterus, he does the next best thing. distracts the hell outta you. "alright, sweetheart, what’s it gonna be? poker? tall tales? let's watch duck detective?”

you giggle. “Stan, just cuddle me.”

“oh, yeah, you got it, c’mere.” immediately pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his big arms around you, rocking his most precious thing in the world.

★ if you're up at 2 AM, restless from cramps, Stan notices immediately “owwh, doll, let’s getcha comfy.” guides you to the couch, sets you up with a blanket, turns on some quiet late-night TV. he stays up with you, spending sleepless night taking care of you. he sits there, rubbing your back, making sure you’re okay

in some hours more though, he falls asleep next to you, head leaning against yours

STANFORD

★ HE KNOWS BEFORE YOU DO. this man has studied interdimensional quantum phenomena. you think he hasn’t mapped out your cycle like a scientist mapping the tides???? PLEASE

“sweetheart, shouldn’t you be starting your period soon?”

“what? no?? I feel fine“ and twenty minutes later, you’re in pain

“ah. as I suspected.” Ford says

★ literally tracks it like a researcher. has a whole-ass journal with little notes. estimates symptoms, cravings, moods. he says it's because “I want to be prepared for you”.

you catch him writing in it one day. “Ford, what is that?”

he looks guilty and awkward. “a. . . documentation of your menstrual cycle?”

you take it, open it and your eyes widen. it got a whole-ass formula for predicting your moods

“wtf Ford, you made a menstrual algorithm??”

he rubs the back of his neck. “well, i wanted to ensure that i could be fully prepared for any and all symptoms—“

you’re just staring at the notes, not even listening to him. “did you seriously track that I crave sour candy more than chocolate???”

Ford pushes up his glasses. “i prefer to call it an empirical observation, yes.” next thing you do is kiss him senseless, because this nerd is the most devoted man on the planet

★ i assure you, he's already stocked up. you go to grab something and oh . . . heating pad? already plugged in. pain meds? already out on the counter. ur favorite snacks? somehow already bought. tea? brewing

★ of course! of course you'll get his lectures about periods. “did you know that menstrual cramps are caused by the uterus contracting due to prostaglandins? i read a fascinating study on ways to mitigate the pain—“ but let me tell you, he’s rambling because he’s nervous about you hurting. also because he thinks knowledge = comfort

★ his gentle hands, always. adjusting your blanket. rubbing slow circles into your back. fingertips ghosting over your forehead to check if you’re feverish

★ absolutely 100%, without a doubt, Ford takes notes on what helps you. if you ever say something like “ugh, this tea actually helps a lot” he writes that down. if you offhandedly mention “i think dark chocolate makes it better” he’s buying you ten bars of it next time.

★ he tries to keep you distracted. puts on old sci-fi movies and nerds out over them. reads aloud from a book if you want because he knows you love his voice

“did I ever tell you about the time I discovered a species that only reproduces once every ten years?” he just TALKS to you. calmly. thoughtfully. lets his voice carry you away from the pain.

★ he will stay up with you if you can’t sleep. even if he’s exhausted, even if he has research to do. if you’re in pain, he’s right there. “sleep, darling. I’ll stay up for a while. you need to rest.” strokes your hair until you do and presses a kiss to your temple when you finally drift off.

★ Ford can’t stand inefficiency. the first time he hears you complain about normal period products, he rubbed his chin, thinking. you’re uncomfortable??? with a problem that science could potentially solve???

“hmph. there must be a better way.” he disappears into his lab for hours.

★ what he makes depends on what you complain about! hate pads? “ah. they’re inefficient, bulky and uncomfortable. yes, darling, I see the flaws.”

hate tampons? “too absorbent, prone to leaking at unpredictable rates. . . fascinating, but flawed.”

cramps?? “prostaglandin-induced muscle contractions. I can work with this!”

no problem is too small. he listens to every complaint

★ “i will revolutionise menstruation, darling!” you're so proud of him. Ford is proud of himself too

★ normally, he treats you like his equal, his partner, his greatest love. but when you’re sick ohh he secretly loves having an excuse to baby you. he brings you tea and tests the temperature on his wrist before handing it over. he fluffs your pillows, tucks you in way too snug. if you groan in pain, he’s immediately alert. “what is it? what do you need? tell me, dearest, I’ll get it.”

i can't believe i wrote an entire fic from Ford's pov journaling reader's cycle, im going insane

[princesssmars]

so...we can all agree vi is an ass girl, right?

modern!au. 18+ content ahead. post contains lesbian sex and dry humping. inspired by this video from love and deepspace. i didnt know they got down like that. wc : 3.081.

she didn't show it often before, but lately violet could quickly become so achingly desperate for you.

she didn't show it often, but violet could become so achingly desperate.

at the start of your relationship, she tried to play off her need for you in a casual way, brushing it off as just being a very attentive girlfriend. you never had a problem with, always open and accepting of whatever little bits of attention she would give to you.

but then one day she slips, and she can feel your dynamic shift as soon as it happens.

she was away visiting her family for the holidays, body snugly tucked under the covers in her childhood bed as she held her phone above her face. the house was quiet, the air was cold, and she was having an internal battle with the reasonable part of her that told her to call it a night and drift off to sleep already...

and then there was the other side. the one that suddenly brings to her attention the steady heat that’s been building beneath her stomach after you sent the prettiest photo of you all dolled up in your parent’s guest bathroom. the one that made her bite her lip as she observed every inch of you through the screen before instantly liking the photo and sending back a flirty message. the one that now gravitated her fingers to calling your phone in the middle of the night and hoping and praying you’d pick up, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you did.

"vi? are you alright?"

loaded question, she thinks to herself. in perfect health? of course. of sound mind? debatable, but for the most part yes. alright? no, definitely not at the moment.

"yeah, yeah, i’m alright princess. just wanted to talk to you."

"aww, you're such a sweetie. how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

and yes, she does appreciate and silently adore the sweet sentiment. but the sound of you cooing at her with just the tiniest hint of a rasp in your voice from tiredness only cements her fate, having to use all of the rational energy she has left to stop whimpering.

"tell me how your trips been. wanna hear your voice for a little longer."

"no problem. well im fine, everyone here is good. besides my aunt nat, she's still moody because no one allowed her in the kitchen again-"

you go on about your family and their shenanigans, and she cant help but quietly laugh along when you giggle about some of the stories and memories you've made. but the 'conversation' takes a turn when you start to talk about her.

"you know i miss you, right?"

she feels a subtle pang in her chest, half longing and half desire. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. rolled over in bed this morning and kept trying to find you till i realized where i was. it's weird not waking up with you."

she hums, hoping you cant hear her stuttered breaths through the receiver. she doesn't know why hearing about you subconsciously looking for her embrace is what does it for her, but she can only give a short response as one of her hands trails down into boxers.

"wish i could've been there with you, baby."

"mmm, me too. missed your warmth, swear you're like my own personal heater. wish you could be here with me now."

her breathing stops and her eyebrows raise. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. missed your hands, too."

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. she's taken off guard, mind racing at your words and tone and before she knows it she has two fingers stuffed inside of herself while she quietly whimpers for you to keep talking to her.

"fuck, just a little more baby, please, 'm so close-"

"aww, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you violet?"

she swears she bites her lip so hard it nearly bleeds when she cums, walls clenching around her fingers and eyes rolling back into her head as she reaches her peak while you talk her through it.

the next week when she picks you up from the airport she can see it, a glimmer in your eye and quick in your smile that wasn't there before. she tries to ignore it when she pulls you in for a long-awaited embrace but then she just gets so enveloped in your warmth, your smell, the feeling of your body pressed hers. she's only yanked out of her lovestruck stupor when you whisper a sly little comment in her ear about how long and tight she's been holding you.

"call me crazy but if i didnt know any better i'd say you're feeling a little desperate for me."

so the cats out of the bag. she's super attached to you, so what? it's not like you ever complained about it, instead constantly using her neediness to your advantage to get what you want from her. you'll likely never have to beg and convince her to get up from bed to change the thermostat again, only needing to graze your hand across her chest and press a lingering kiss to the space beneath her chin before she's leaping out of bed and speedwalking down the hall.

and don't even get her started on her libido. the both of you had an amazing sex life already, able to almost instinctually tell what brought the other the most mindblowing pleasure possible. but ever since that night, it's like her desire for you only increased tenfold, barely able to go a day without getting her hands on you or vice versa.

it only reached a head when you decided to truly test her limits.

she had taken up a later shift to help out loris who had a date, which meant by the time she returned home she was too tuckered out to have her way with you. but during times like these, she could always count on the early morning sun waking her up just in the rich window of time for morning sex. but when the light rays peek through her bedroom window and she uses her arm to pull you closer she finds you absent, your side of the bed cold.

after a brief search through the house, she opened her text messages just to find your sent a sweet text only an hour before she’d woken up to tell her your friends had invited you on a last minute girls day around the city the night before, and you didn’t want to wake her from her sleep since she seemed exhausted when she got home.

vi groans and falls back into the pillows, lousily texting you back a short message to tell you she loves you and hopes you have fun with your friends. she’ll be alright, she can go a few more hours without you near.

but only an hour later after she’s showered and eaten a quick breakfast she feels the ache start to build in her chest, eyes darting up to the clock on the wall and groaning when realizes just how long this day is going to feel.

everything she tries to do to keep her mind off of you fails miserably. doing chores? she's thinking back on the time when the both of you first split up household duties when you moved in together, feeling giddy at sharing something so menial with the girl she was enamored with. making herself a protein shake for the gym? now she's stuck in a daydream about all the times you've been in this kitchen together, sharing sweet baked goods and sweeter kisses as you settle into domestic bliss.

she has got to get out of the house.

jayce understood her problem as soon as she called inviting her down to the gym for a few hours to work off any ‘pent-up energy’ she’s currently... unable to get out in her preferred method.

it works for a while, the familiar smell of sweat and the slight ache in her muscles grounding her back into reality as she makes casual gym talk with jayce. she's just starting to feel like the absence of you is off of her mind when she hears your text notification on her phone, accidentally leaving her place as jayces spotter to open up her phone.

as soon as her brain registers that you’ve sent her pictures she makes up some lame excuse to get to the bathroom, tuning out her friend's groan of disapproval as she speed walks to the restrooms and locks herself in one of the stalls.

the first few messages are sweet, little selfies of you and your friends as you enjoy your day together as you get some sweet treats together at one of the malls concession stands. a lovesick smile involuntarily grows on her face, always happy to see you smiling and enjoying yourself with the people who care about you. but her eyes start to squint when you start to send pictures of you trying on various outfits from some of the outlet stores, posing demurely in front of the trying room mirrors.

but then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when suddenly shes getting photos of you in her vagina's favorite enemy - lingerie.

even before vi started acting so eager about your body, it wasn't hard for you to catch on to the fact that the woman was so clearly an ass girl. even on five hands, you wouldn't be able to count the number of times you’d caught her staring or sneaking small glances at your behind, not to mention how she thought she was being discreet about her affection for it with the numerous times she’d slap it when walking by you. she tried to laugh it off when you brought it up in conversation, assuring you that she loved each and every part of you and could never pick a favorite.

but now you were determined to really see how much she wanted you, using every dirty trick in the book you could think of. she feels her face get hot as she looks down at her phone, the image of you in lacy lingerie, back facing the mirror as the magenta fabric (nearly the same shade as her hair, jesus christ,) stretches across the swell of your ass and crisis crosses across your back.

her brain short circuits. before she can think about it she’s saving the pictures to her phone and calling you at the speed of light.

“hey, violet. how’s your day?”

“you are so… evil. amazing and beautiful and evil.”

your giggle rings through the receiver, melodic and teasing. “what's the problem? you don't like the set?”

“don’t even joke. when are you getting home?”

“mmm not till late, the girls wanted to go to a club tonight.”

“oh you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“do you want me to send you the address?”

vi hasn't been to a nightclub in months, at first harshly avoiding the hard party scene in favor of her sobriety before feeling no need to indulge in the party scene once her life became more stable, especially after she met you. but she never stopped you from going out and having fun with your friends, tagging along once in a blue moon to sip on a mocktail while she chatted up the bartender and stared at your ass while you danced.

tonight was an extremely necessary blue moon.

the air is hot, and the feel of her drink burns her throat as vi waits at the bar, blue eyes wide and aware as she stares at the club’s crowded entrance like it owes her money. the bartender asks if she’s alright, scared she’s waiting for someone to arrive to jump them before she assures them she’s fine. they slowly nod and get back to making drinks, nearly dropping a glass out of fright when she slams her glass on the bar and quickly makes her way over to you.

if she wasn't so laser-focused on finally getting her hands on you she might've been a little cocky at the fact that you look like you were about to salivate at the sight of her, knowing she made the right decision to wear the tight pants she knew you loved on her. in only a second she’s got her hands settled on your waist, not caring that your friends are laughing at her clear excitement over seeing you in your club outfit, a tiny dress so she can see the wide expanse of your legs, your arms, your shoulder - fuck, the straps of the pink bra aren’t even hidden by the strapless dress-

“wanna dance with me?” your voice is nothing short of flirtatious, and you already know your answer by the way you start to walk past her to the dance floor, already predicting how she follows you like she’s on a leash.

as the both of you grind and dance in the middle of the club every thought racing through vi’s head is centered on you, physically and mentally unable to focus on anything else when she finally has you so close again after what felt like years. she feels a familiar sense of euphoria when her palms glide up and down your waist, smirking to herself when she feels you shudder when her hands reach up to cup and discreetly squeeze your breasts. she’s feeling happy about finally starting to turn the tables back on you before you arch your back into her, your ass pressing into her as your hand reaches up to her head, nails dusting along her cheek before reaching into her hair and pulling.

it’s only to be expected that that’s her breaking point, dragging you through the dancing bodies and into the back of the building until she can find anywhere to get you alone, thanking any god that exists above that she finds an open storage closet and drags you inside, pressing you face first towards the door. a little voice in her head reminds her not to be too rough with you, but it’s quickly silenced when she sees just how much you crave it, how your back is yet again arching and your hands are clenching into fists from their places on the wooden door.

it's nice, to remember that you want her as much as she wants you.

in only a few seconds she’s given into it, pressing you further into the door by pressing her body against yours and grinding her crotch into the fat of your ass, eyes lidded and head dropping to rest on your shoulder from the rush of pleasure she feels below.

“vi, oh my god-” your voice is light and airy, every word almost choked out as you struggle to prevent yourself from moaning out and alerting every person in the bar about what the two of you were up to.

“i know, fuck, I know, baby. i just-” she cuts herself off with a groan when she lets her hand travel down your front and under your dress to your panties, face running hot when she feels just how wet you’ve gotten. she’s all but rushing to ruche up your dress, mind going fuzzy yet again at seeing the pink fabric covering your ass and how it feels under her when she begins humping you yet again.

“nngh, knew it. knew you were an ass girl.” you giggle.

“god, please stop talking-”

whatever snarky little comment you were going to make dies in your throat when her arm comes up and around your neck to hold your jaw, turning your head around and smashing her lips onto yours. you whimper and moan into her mouth, violet greedily eating the noises of your pleasure as she takes you up against the door.

you pull back for a few seconds to catch your breath, both of your eyes drifting to the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips together.

she can feel it, then. an almost electric charge that runs form her body into yours. you lean into her touch, arch into her further like you’re trying ot merge your bodies into one. when her other hand tightens around the pushed-up fabric of your dress and she gets that absolutely adorable scrunch between her eyebrows you know what she’s asking, and you gently nod your head.

and so she presses her lips back to yours, her crotch further into your ass, and rides you in the cramped nightclub storage closet. she's grateful that you seem to be enjoying it just as much as she is, her mind completely focused on getting closer and closer to her peak. she can feel it building quickly, a growing heat below her stomach reach to burst at any moment. all it takes is you, sucking on her tongue before mumbling muffled words into her mouth begging for her to finish against you. she cums with a stifled moan into your mouth, only amplified when she feels you shudder and go loose in the legs beneath her.

you’re both panting, sweaty, and tired as you stare at each other. it’s a comfortable silence as you help each other adjust - vi fixing your dress and you attempting to put her hair back in her signature style.

“so,” your voice lilts up as vi’s busy fixing her jacket, debating if she wants to take it off to cool down or not, knwoing she’ll probably just wrap it around your arms outside anyway. “you gonna admit it yet?”

she rolls her eyes, looking at you with an exasperated but fond look in her eyes that makes your stomach flip. “you just love being proven right, don’t you?”

“absolutely.”

“fine, you were right. are you happy?”

“very. now, let’s go home annnd maybe,” your fingers hook into the loops of her pants and tug her closer,”you can show me a little more just how much you need me, yeah?”

maybe, vi would show her neediness for you more often. just a little.

[hexhomos]

Maybe I’m that one oomf that’s too woke, but I have a feeling that people being weird about jayvik is a sign of Bad Things on the rise =/ I’m old as balls and I’ve been in fandom spaces since late 2000s, and I’ve never seen people act so hostile towards a fanon mlm ship. I mean precisely in women and queer dominated fandom spaces, dudebros never change, whatever. And of course there were always ship wars. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen people act so oppressed over being into het ships, crash out over their ships not being endgame and demand from fandom content creators to accommodate them. What is happening.

I think this started happening around 2023~ to be more precise bc that's when i started getting weird ass entitled comments on OTHER gay ships. IMHO the real issue here is that we are going through fandom clash with a newgen that did not experience early internet and they take the gayness in fandom spaces completely for granted. As in, they think these little niche holes we've built are the de facto 'effortless norm' and minimize the work that's been done to create these safe spaces. This is the kind of rhetoric i keep seeing pop up:

Many of them have also grown up almost exclusively interacting with art created by old fandom graduates where queerness is presented casually. They're not watching shit from the 90's or 00's. They're not adults, so they don't have a personal contrast experience seeing that 'rep' dwindling consistently over the years. They don't remember a time before this and don't know how bad it was.

OFC there are always old ass conservative weirdos riding on this wave to be even more annoying (certain infamous viktor stan accs... lol!) but #backtotradition rightwing bullshit has been on the rise worldwide, and so are the viral tiktok tradwife alphamale detransition white supremacy grifters. Its a larger cultural problem feeding into the micro stuff we see daily and it's terrible. It's also why I tune this shit out and I stand my ground. I'll draw what I WANT to draw and I'm not going to be twisting myself into pretzel shapes to appeal to anyone and everyone; go get YOUR shit elsewhere!

I *do* think people have been getting way more entitled towards fanworks, and that comes with a heightened level of apathy. You can notice this on the decreased number and quality of feedback across twitter, as an example (seeing as that place has been consumed by the conservative grifter wave) but it's also been reported by every fic writer who's consistently used AO3 for years. Tags on tumblr aren't as widely used. The focus on 'community' has been replaced by 'DOES THIS MAXIMIZE ENGAGEMENT?'. I know from personal experience that there is this one specific asshole who, for almost a year now, has been trawling the trans viktor tag and leaving insanely long transphobic critique comments on works of newer writers to discourage them from writing. (They are always on the cusp of open violent transphobia, but shittily cloaked as 'debates' on ~natural biology~ and fantasy logic so they don't get banned. If you've seen the ao3 pfp of a smirking white haired woman before you know who im talking about.)

Things have been Bad and on the Rise for a while now. Look at the current shit on the news. Look at the presidencies around the world. And it's going to get worse before it gets better, because it always does; that's what forces people to wake up. Be annoying. Be watchful. Don't waste your time platforming or debating weirdos that should be left to die on obscurity - this is how trump got a memeable platform, and look at where we are now. Protect your peace.

[eddiesghxst]

hellow, i’m officially done with school for the next year or so which means (if u haven’t already noticed) i’ve started to write 50 wips <3

so anyway, here’s a snippet of something im writing about dom!eddie who’s also a tattoo artist who just so happens to own a tattoo parlor that’s right next to a ballet studio which just so happens to be owned by ballet instructor!reader

18+ — MINORS DNI

It was a series of unfortunate events.

You had spent the last five years of your life building your ballet school from the ground up, but when your old studio was sold out from under you, you were forced to find a new home for your students.

It wasn’t easy. There weren’t many options for you to choose from and most buildings either needed an immense amount of work that your pockets couldn’t afford or were too far away and would inevitably cause you to lose students.

But then you stumbled on a dream. The new studio was perfect— freshly installed tiling, beautiful acoustics, and the fee to install the mirrors wasn’t all that bad— except for one small detail: the tattoo parlor next door.

For the months that you spent preparing the studio for your students, you were tormented with the constant buzz of needles and the faint scent of ink lingers in the air all day, mixing with the sharp fragrance of floor polish and irritation that comes with summer heat. It nearly drove you insane.

But what started as a nuisance soon flourished into something else entirely. The tattoo shop’s owner, a tall, inked-up man named Eddie, was there every morning, the storefront always open to the bustling world outside. Your first conversation had been brief— you introduced yourself, explained how you ended up here and he wished you a good start to your new building.

It wasn’t until a few months down the line that you finally caved and complained about the noise, telling him it was difficult to focus with the loud sounds from his shop and Eddie— surprisingly, since you had somewhat painted him a villain in your mind— apologized and said he’d try to keep the noise down— “I can’t promise the same on the days I don’t work, though. My team tends to never listen to me.”

And so then you and Eddie formed a very nice, casual, and polite relationship. Something like a work relationship. A nice smile and wave in the morning, small and quick conversations about the week— and sometimes, he would get you a coffee and slide it on your desk while you’re busy with your morning class.

But as weeks passed, your casual exchanges became… something more— quick morning greetings turned into full blown conversations and free coffees turned into free lunches— “The deli down the street always gives me an extra sandwich.” And you almost think he’s lying about that, but he never really leaves you room to further pry about it. Lingering looks, shared laughs, and an unspoken connection grew deeper with each passing day.

But it started and ended at work— there on Blackburn Avenue where your ballet studio and his tattoo parlor share a sidewalk— and it never left. And you never expected it to be more— Eddie is more of a work crush anyway. You talk and flirt for the few hours that you share a wall, and when you go home you watch your reality TV shows, eat dinner, and think nothing of it.

But what the hell do you do when you walk into a BDSM club and see your work crush on a stage, knuckle’s deep in a pretty girl, with a bunch of strangers watching— including yourself?

What do you do when the pretty boy that owns the shop next to your studio is on a stage, whispering dirty praises in a girls ear and finger fucking her until her thighs shake? What do you do when you realize— oh fuck, I should probably leave since I actually know this guy and we’re kind of coworkers, but you stay like the idiot you are?

And what do you do when his pretty brown eyes (which look even dreamier when they’re blown out and dark with lust) glance up from the woman below him and just happen to immediately land on you?

What the fuck do you do?

[narcsmelly]

fascinated by devon because she's like the only character with any goddamn sense but also why the hell did she marry that man?

i would love to talk about this..... bcos honestly idk i just.. feel like i get them, mostly cos the show is asking me to believe it and i enjoy stories most when i go along with what theyre telling me until theyre done telling me about it.

but for real here's my take on devon & rickens relationship: when ricken and devon met, ricken was a lil rich boy who loved to write (poorly) and was always a little too privileged and weird, but ultimately very personable/funny and like... puppy dog level head over heels for devon. first love type shit on his end. i think they were probably young and it was probably an honest friendship that grew into a relationship at devons pace, and while ricken was (and still is) ridiculous and a little lost, that doesnt stop devon from loving him. then gemma and she and mark and ricken became close knit, a real ass family spending a lot of time together and devon & rickens relationship became better because of it. and then gemma died c: and devon had to get really fucking serious about caring for mark AND ricken.. and thats the devon we see today, grieving and carrying it all.

AND ricken is grieving... we see him cope with any negative feelings (insecurity etc) with false bravado and overthinking. And ricken who is both grieving and dealing poorly with the grieving people around him is in an ego-driven rabbit hole exacerbated by the random boderline-sycophants who bring out the worst in him.. but the ego rabbit hole friend group makes him feel wanted/loved/important so he's coping poorly and spiraling by playing into it without regard to how it affects devon and what it really 'means' about who he is/what he's achieving (he's not very introspective or self aware even tho he thinks himself to be!!) idk i just think that while ricken is like.. maybe the worst version of himself he's ever been at this point in their lives, he also wasn't ever some incredible amazing superhero person to begin with... he's kinda just a dope. and devon loves him. and he's wealthy lmao. and i just feel like even though they aren't some storybook fairy tale mark & gemma type romance, devons an extremely pragmatic person and wouldnt be with someone she didn't Want to be with. I don't think she'd take as much crap from mark as she does if she wasn't sure about ricken. but idk im prepared to eat my hat cos frankly i think they should open their marriage and devon should date women but thats just me

ANYWAY: Jen tullock talked about a lot of these things on the severance podcast ep she was on, and also a lot of my opinions were informed/solidified by He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother by cassiandor on ao3 and i think everyone who loves devon should read it.

[stevie-petey]

could we see what a valentine’s day between bug and steve would look like? love your writing sm!!

anon i need u to know that for some reason it never clicked in my brain that steve and bug were happy and together during valentines day ,,, like i gasped when i read this i cannot believe i didnt think about their silly lil first valentines day together </3

enjoy !

"steve?" you set your keys on his banister, the clatter of metal against granite echoes in the empty house.

all the lights are off and you frown. steve had invited you over earlier, calling you while you were catching up on some readings at home. the lazy saturday had been enjoyable and needed, but the ring of your landline always warms your chest with the knowledge of who will be on the other side.

"come over, angel."

and you did.

but steve doesnt greet you at the door like he always does. there isnt anyone to pepper kisses across your nose and cheeks and grab you with warm hands. the house is empty and you call out for steve again.

"hello?"

you saw steves car in the driveway, so you know hes home, but still the house remains quiet. frown deepening, you wander through the hall, confused as to where your boyfriend has gone.

the kitchen is a mess when you walk through it. the counter is streaked with the white powder of flour and the sink is practically overflowing with dishes stained with what you can only imagine is muddy dough.

theres a faint scent of something sweet and familiar that surrounds you. the tension in your face lessens and your lips turn up into a smile when you see a trail of scattered chocolate chips.

the oven is still warm from use and you shake your head fondly when you see globs of glitter and icing smeared all over the appliances knobs.

"oh, honey," a small laugh, fond and loving. "whatd you do to this poor kitchen?"

though steve doesnt answer, and though you dont know where he is and you cant see his face you love so effortlessly, you can feel the shift in the air when he smiles at your honey coated words.

you make your way into the living room and its there that you find a nest of pillows and blankets strewn against the floor. the long leather couch is pressed upon the wall, clearing the way for the excess of soft material and feathered pillows, and in the middle of it all is steve.

he sits on the blankets, wearing an old sweater that he stole from your closet months ago, looking soft and inviting and endearing as he holds up a tray of what you can only imagine are cookies. theyre misshapen and inconsistent in size and covered in glitter and too much icing and youre so infatuatedly in love.

"hi, angel." steves face is red from the heat of the oven and from the heat of your love and his honeyed eyes watch as you slowly sit in front of him.

"and what are these?" you giggle slightly, pointing at the tray he holds.

"world famous y/n henderson cookies, obviously." steve grabs one, brings it to your lips and presses against them gently. "want a bite?"

your lips open and the sweet tart of chocolate and raisins coat your tongue. the cookie is still warm, soft and gooey and tasting of home.

"im impressed, harrington." you say between bites. steve continues to feed you, gazing at you lovingly as he does so, tender and soft and lovely. "i can hardly taste the pound of icing youve drenched my recipe in."

the deep chuckle that arises from his chest sets your skin on fire.

"why dont you take a look at the icing, dummy."

you look at steve curiously, and he nods his head down at the cookies. his eyes are eager, anticipating something from you. taking a final bite, you look down.

be my valentine?

the writing is hard to read and the icing drips obscenely down the sides of the cookies each letter is written on and theres so much glitter that you almost cant see the words before you.

but you do.

and a startled, love sick laugh tumbles from your throat and into the air. "oh my god."

"a work of art, dont you think?" steve is smiling so wide that his cheeks are tinged pink. "i mean, i really think i outdid myself with this one."

"youre-" you have to bite your lip, smiling too much to even speak.

"im...?" steve leans close, tongue poking his cheek as his own excessive smile overtakes his body. "really hoping you say 'valentine' here."

you hiccup a laugh, tears in your eyes and body saturated and in love. "of course youre my valentine, honey."

"thank god," steve pops a cookie into his mouth, chewing loud and crudely like a teenage boy. "otherwise i bought all this glitter for nothing-"

he only has mere seconds to put down the tray of cookies before your lips are on his. sugar laces the kiss. hands clutch steves sweater as you pull him in closer and closer and closer.

"i love you," he sighs against your mouth, and youre drowning again.

"i love you too," and still he isnt close enough, but you have all night.

-

﹂blurb masterlist

﹂if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[witless-winion1]

My thoughts on the paralyzed!Polites AU

(Which I really should do more research on; inspired by this)

Odysseus cries when Polites first wakes up

Eurylochus almost cries. Instead just let’s out a very shaky, relieved sigh and tells his friend “I’m glad you’re back”

his vision is messed with in that classic “Eye for an eye” vibe

His left arm is broken and yet he still insists on greeting the world with open arms

“Don’t you mean open arm?”

“You hush, Perimedes.”

So much survivor’s guilt but he’s very thankful to be alive and honors his fallen friends with Ody and everyone else

He basically can’t walk without help

Odysseus carves him a cane himself

It has a bunch of super cool details, including a winion

Polites adores it

(perhaps they go back to the Lotus Eater island and kidnap a winion for Polites? Like a comfort animal. Give Polites, my Disney Princess Pancake, a familiar plz)

But Polites needs a lot of help with things that require both arms or both legs or gods forbid all four

one dumbass numbnuts comments “would’ve been kinder to let him die” under his breath after Polites wakes up

Captain nearly throws him overboard

obviously

“My best friend would be delighted to live life in whatever form it came to him! You shut your fucking mouth and if I ever hear you ask such wretched nonsense again I’m going to put you on latrine duty for a month, am I understood?”

Eurylochus has to hold him back during this

Eurylochus also immediately assumes position of bodyguard of Polites.

He and Odysseus soon begin fighting over this job

they decide to share custody

(eventually)

OPEN ARMS REPRISES BUT HES ACTUALLY ALIVE!!!!

plot? Oh yeah plot

lmao what plot

after the Cyclopes passes out Ody is too busy making sure his friend is okay (which he is not). He gets somebody to check the other smashees and then stays by Poli’s side (no, he don’t give a shit that he’s captain, you guys go stab his eye, he’s asleep it’s not that fucking hard)

Odysseus carries Polites when the Cyclopes wakes up

he’s too busy thinking about getting him back to the ship and calling the best doctors from the 12 ships so he tells everyone to grab the sheep and HUSTLE

Athena grabs him and starts with her “HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE LESSONS I TAUGHT YOU? HE’S STILL A THRE-”

“ATHENA IM BUSY RN WE CAN TALK LATER”

“BUT HE’S STILL ALIVE-”

“WE’RE LEAVING BRO! HE’S NOT GONNA FUCKING SWIM AFTER US!”

they’re not on best terms for a while after that but they still reconcile after

then they get home! Whoop de do, congrant, 99.7777777778% of the canon plot avoided

when they get home and our sunshine is actually properly long-term treated, Odysseus and Telemachus’s first big father-son bonding project is to make Polites’ house more accessible for him

and Telemachus fucking loves Polites. Best Uncle Award. They vibe so hard that Odysseus cries

he almost cries when Penelope starts weaving clothes that are easier for his friend to wear. He’s a tiinnyyy bit jealous but he’s still so happy. And Penelope noticed and weaves her dear husband some clothes too, all his old ones are stinky asf

Eurylochus and all Poli’s friends from the ship still visit regularly. It’s just a big happy family

and nobody dies, not even Nobody

(except for those other guys from the Cyclopes cave but this ain’t about them)

[thegreatyin]

okay. so.

cards on the table: ive had a huge question about a major part of SMEN for quite some time now and all the research ive done whilst trying to solve said question has been pretty much futile.

so.

i'm asking it to tumblr dot com instead.

major spoilers for seeking mr eaten's name, as mentioned. yes i'm asking this for exactly the reason you think i'm asking this.

what is st gawain's,,, Deal? like, what does it look like? how does it function? is it a dullahan situation or do we just go full body horror with it? exactly how literal (and visible) is "you chop off your head and get hollowed out to become a candle"?

i've seen the text. i know what the storylet says. ive just always struggled to picture, like,,,, what it looks like from the outside. whether or not you're essentially just a wax recreation of yourself. if you even still breathe and sleep after That Whole Thing. if you even bleed anymore.

i know these are all questions i can come up with answers for myself. and i can and will and that is a threat. but also i'm open to decapitation-themed suggestions.

[fraudulent-cheese]

You know, funny you bring that up, i actually kinda went on a rant/analysis about this in discord the other day... More centered on the kids themselves than their parents but yes, i'd argue the parents of the kids post gen 1 are at best a little neglectful or too hands off, and at worst just do not care about their child's safety whatsoever.

To get a concrete answer answer on this however, we kinda need to know exactly how the more dangerous and absurd aspects of Total Drama were considered in canon. Like. was the ending scene of world tour actually aired in canon? were all the scenes in mike's head only there for our convenience or did they actually convince this italian boy to dress up as his alters and reenact their discussions? Do the people in universe think the more dramatic scenes or harsher injuries were exaggerated for the cameras, or is the promise of a million dollars enough to sway concerns? (because let's be real here: a million dollars is a fuck ton of money. i calculated for fun what money Cameron would actually be giving in his ending and if every camper takes him up on his offer they get around 77 grand. which is crazy)

If we're talking specifically Gen 1 parents, basically every parent except Sierra's and Alejandro's gets a pass for letting their kid on TD, since it's kinda plot relevant that they were duped into thinking it would be on a luxury hotel and not. crappy summer camp except there's a middle aged guy torturing you for clout. (if you want i'll drop what i said about Ale and Sierra's parents in a seperate reblog because i had. alot to say.)

HOWEVER. I cannot give this pass to the Gens 2, 3 and (maybe) 4 contestants or their parents. Outside of the ones that didn't know (Damien, maybe Dave, unknown if Anne Maria or Ella watched more than just a couple episodes since they only talk about the singing), they really watched the "get thrown out of planes" season or god forbid the "toxic waste" season and decided "yep, auditionning this show is a great idea, actually".

Yes, it was the most popular reality show in universe at some point, but REALLY? Are you sure this is a good idea? ZOEY ARE YOU SURE THIS IS A GOOD IDEA YOU SAW THE VOLCANO FINALE

This goes double for the Pahkitew Island cast, btw. based on their audition tapes + Leonard's stated age in Ridonculous Race, they had to have had sent their tapes close enough in time to the actual filming of the season itself. Which means this was after Revenge. Like at that point auditionning for TD would only be something you'd do if you either:

desperately needed to be away from your family/get that mil

considered the more outlandish happenings to be staged in some way

have the ultimate "Nah i'd win" mindset and just think the bad shit won't happen to you because yes

In any case, their parents HAD to have let them be on the show. How. Especially for the Roti cast's parents, actually (i hc that TD's ratings started dropping after World Tour but this isn't confirmed in canon) because as established, this shit was POPULAR popular. They at least had to have heard about it, and i wouldn't understand why you wouldn't at least double check to see if the show wouldn't make your kid get life long consequences from it. Then again, maybe im overestimating what regular people know about Reality TV and all of it's possible consequences on their contestants or whatever.

So yeah. Gen 2 and Gen 3 parents are not off the hook whatsoever on this... but im not sure about Gen 4.

Listen. Listen. Hear me out. I don't know how much the reboot cast knew about the show. Idk how much teenagers care about 10+ year old reality shows, no matter how popular they got outside of youtube videos talking about the more negative sides or keeping up with the former contestants. or something. I sincerely doubt the show wouldn't have developped an Action Park-like reputation, but... people still went to Action Park when it was open. Even after people fucking died. Maybe it morphed into daring your friends to submit an audition or hoping you could get major clout out of it?

But im still giving Gen 4's parents the major side-eye. They were VERY MUCH alive and aware of the show while it was airing, Priya's parents are proof of this.

On one hand, the most recent related season to TD in canon was most likely Ridonculous Race, and from what i know it got less extreme than TD? In terms of injuries? Like the worst that happends is a broken arm and a concussion i believe. Trends get forgotten quickly. Maybe they promised it would be safer somewhere in the contract??

On the other... They were alive during the time TD presumably aired in canon. They had to have heard about some things, right? Unless Chris burried the intern deaths, the injuries, the everything, (or it was covered up as staged/it was actually staged) shit had to have come out eventually right? RIGHT??? Did no one do any double checking? Granted some of the reboot parents already seem neglectful in canon (Ripper, Chase, Scary Girl, Julia even come to mind), but... Did Damien's parents not ask about it at all? Did neither Raj or Wayne's parents double check what their kids would be doing for summer? Do their parents even know they're going on Total Drama at this point???

uh, TLDR: Something is up with the Gens 2 and up parents, but i'd argue there's something up with the contestants themselves as well.

when u think abt it a lot of td parents are shitty like lightnings dad wouldnt even pay attention to him, duncan’s dad questioned if they really loved him, heather’s parents were celebrating she was gone, sierra’s mom is neglectful of her to the point she puts her idols before her own daughter, trent’s dad doesn’t support him being into music, cody’s parents forget his bday, courtney’s parents have pushed her so hard to succeed she feels inadequate when being anything but successful.i’m p sure u got good td parents like dj’s and cameron’s moms, but like….jesus christ dude

[shuastar]

Between Softened Silks and Gilded Thrones (KMG) - pt.1

pairing: mingyu x reader warnings: KIM MINGYU HIMSELF IS A WARNING; none for this chapter except for sexual jokes (only one!), death threats (um two?), childhood memories </3 a/n: FINNALY OMG when i tell you im so excited for this, i'm SO excited for this. if you think wonwoo's was hot...mingyu .... he's just so hot i can't. i'm like creaming (hahaha lol /jk!!) just kidding!!! anyways, have fun reading, and always, lmk if u wanna be on the taglist for this whoresssss (very kindly)!

y/n

“Students, please rise for the walking of our flags.” 

The dining hall, previously messily noisy with chatter and laughter, diluted to a quiet hush, a thick blanket that fell over the students, dressed sharply in their uniform. The back-most doors – double and oak – slammed open on its golden hinges, revealing five boys, the first and last holding the school’s standards and the middle three bearing the flags of Obella, Xiawei, and Estoran, arms straining under the weight of the heavy flags. 

From some corner of the dining hall, the music restarted in a mellow sort of canon that echoed through the ears of everyone sitting on the hard wooden chairs, pushed close to both the tables and each other. 

The Dean of Schools smiled, proudly watching as the three flag-bearers turned to their respective flag slots, letting the pole drop down into its holding. The BANG!s rang out in the quiet hall, effectively stopping the music. 

The five boys turned towards the rest of the students, the five now raised higher on the steps to the speaking platform. 

The Dean opened his arms. “Greetings! And welcome to another semester in the National Academy!” his voice boomed through. 

There was a slight beat of silence before students – after glancing around at others – broke out into hesitant applause that slowly built itself into a roaring ovation, including whoops and cheers. 

The Dean nodded approvingly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing to you, your five Academy Standards of this semester,” he continued, “Please save applause till the end.” 

He was handed a tightly-bound scroll from another student, standing just off at the edge of the speaking platform. He cleared his throat before starting. 

“With the Academy’s golden standards, Jeong Jaehyun of Obella and Lee Seokmin of Obella!” The Dean let the scatterings of whoops and yells from the Obellan boys table die down before continuing. “With the National colors, Kim Mingyu for Obella,” here, the Dean was required to pause his announcement of the boys because the most ear-splitting, gut-wrenching screams and applause erupted from almost every corner of the dining hall, threatening to split the Dean’s smile wider, “Xu Minghao for Xiawei, and Kunpimook BamBam for Estoran!”

This time, there was no pause before the volcanic standing ovation the five boys received, all five of them almost keening at the attention (some more than others). 

You had the utter displeasure of selecting a seat too close to the manic Obellan girls who seemed to just about scream their lungs out when Mingyu turned to give them a fleeting glance. You grimaced as the screams felt ear-splitting. 

“He’s been a standard for the past two semesters. You would think they would get tired of screaming,” you sigh, slumping in your seat, dipping your spoon in and out of your congee that lay slowly turning colder by the minute. 

“Well, he is a prince,” Yuqi states, looking possibly even more bored than you as she slowly brought a leaf of bok choy up to her lips to nibble on discreetly as the Dean tried to hush the (manic) student body.  

“Still doesn’t make sense why they treat him like some world famous star,” you huffed. “He’s not even that cute.” 

Yuqi laughed at that, brushing her hair out of her face to look at you properly. Dimly, you heard the Dean announce for everyone to start eating. 

“You really don’t think he’s that cute?” Yuqi asked. 

“Of course not. Why? You think he’s cute? What strange taste in men you have, Qiqi.” 

Yuqi rolled her eyes, moving back to her plate of food, only to stifle a loud laugh when Mingyu pulled out a chair right behind you, sitting down in between his group of rowdy friends, slinging an arm around his new girl blessed enough to be able to run her hands down his chest for this week. 

You couldn’t help but let out a fake gag, face twisting into an expression your mother would kill you for. 

“Absolutely disgusting. And he still calls himself a prince,” you muttered, shaking your head, opting instead to turn back to a less grotesque image: your cold mushroom congee, char siu, and steamed bok choy. 

From next to you, you heard Yuqi laugh, choking slightly on her water. 

“Stop laughing! You know I’m right. He never takes anything seriously and just goes off flirting with half of the Academy–” 

You never got the opportunity to finish your sentence because at that moment, someone tapped your shoulder from the back, making you turn away from your untouched plate of food. 

“Wha-”

“-Is your default being miserable and hard to deal with?” 

You blinked, staring dead straight at Kim Mingyu who ever-so-slightly loomed over you even when sitting. When you realized what he had said, your lips curled up into the faintest mocking smile. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did what I said hurt your little royal pride?” You taunt, huffing before turning back to your table. 

Mingyu grabbed your shoulder, forcefully turning you back to face him. You shoved his hand off of your blazer, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, now with the company of his friends. 

“What is your problem,” you snapped. 

“Y/n–” Yuqi started, only to be interrupted by Mingyu’s huff of taunting laughter. 

“What is my problem? What the hell is your problem? It’s the first day of the semester and–”

“-And you’re already out here pretending to be better than us–”

“-I can’t ever recall what I did for you to–”

“-What you did? How about what your country did? Can you recall that, your highness?” 

There was a hush that fell over your vicinity as you stood up, chair streaking across the floor. Mingyu looked like he wanted to stay something, except at Yuqi’s sharp look, you saw him slowly close his mouth and turn back to his table. As you walked out of the dining hall, back to its lively atmosphere, you glanced back, unexpectedly meeting Mingyu’s eyes as Seokmin, from his seat next to the flag bearer, whispered something in his ear that made him frown, muttering something back. 

“He’s just immature,” Yuqi mumbled as she turned to make you face forward, pushing you out of the dining hall and into the cold hallway.

*********************************************************************** 

The library was usually not this loud at five in the afternoon. 

Which is why you prided yourself when you arduously climbed the winding staircase in the law corner of the Greane Library to haul you and your miserably weighted bag up to the third floor study corners overlooking the Field. The third floor was notoriously known for being completely empty, save for the time when students on the War and Diplomatics track would come up to skim through the Diplomatic textbooks shoved to a corner of the bookshelves separating the study corners. 

You passed three study corners, all empty, to reach yours (well, not technically), the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows, illuminating every ridge of the antique oak desk. Except-

“-Jihoon?” Your surprised voice echoed through the empty third floor, bouncing off of the old, dusty, cloth-backed books that were falling apart at the spines. Your bag thudded heavily on one of the chairs. 

A mop of black hair looked up, strands sticking up in the air. Dark circles crowned under tired eyes, drooping already as the warmth of the spring afternoon sun shone in, refracting colors. A hand rose in a bleak and heavy greeting before his forehead met the opened pages of his textbook with a loud THUMP, followed by a muffled groan. 

“I hate this place,” Jihoon complained, head rising. You had to force yourself to not laugh when he rose with a big red mark on the middle of his forehead. 

You pulled out a chair, soft against the carpeted floors, sitting down in front of him. “Finals? I thought Strategy and Politics only had an open discussion?” You opened your bag, taking out an ink well, fountain pen, textbook, and notebook. Your lamp clicked on automatically when you waved your hand in front of it. 

Jihoon nodded, closing his textbook with a massive sigh, sliding down his chair. “A three hour open discussion and a war strategy simulation on the Great War.”

“What Great War? Isn't there like five?”

“Exactly.”

Your hand stilled as you dipped your pen inside the ink pot. “So you don’t know what you’re going to get?” 

“It seems so.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at how Jihoon’s face fell at every word he uttered, frown lines wrinkling his forehead and the space between his eyebrows. Although he was your year, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he picked up his carved-down pencil again, scribbling tired words onto his fat notebook. 

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do amazing. I know it,” you consoled, capping your pen to instead dig through your bag. Your eyes brightened when your fingers brushed a cardboard box, decorated with a ribbon. With a flourish, you pulled the box out onto the table. Hesitant hands slowly pushed the box towards Jihoon’s drooping head. 

He looked up, a questioning sort of sound escaping his lips. 

You smiled, your hair tumbling over your shoulders. “A present.”

“For?”

“You. Consider it an effort of my toils.”

“Toils? You?” Jihoon let out a small laugh, but he pulled the box towards him when you teasingly reached for it back. He shook his head with a rare grin. “No need to get defensive. I’m just saying. A princess? Toiling?”

“Hey!” You huff, “I bought this out of the kindness of my heart when I went home yesterday.” 

Jihoon visibly perked up at those words, unwrapping the box with great care. The smile on his face grew when he lifted a box, opening it to find a pair of topaz cufflinks, delicate and studded with the small gem in a small circle around the main design. He gently placed the velvet box back inside the wrapping with a small sigh. 

“You didn’t have to, y/n,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help but giggle when he tried to cover his blushing ears. 

“It was nothing. Plus, don’t you remember when you brought me those candies from Obella? I think those were one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” you laughed, returning to your schoolwork. 

Jihoon nodded pensively, tucking the present into his backpack. “Those are really good,” he hummed, then almost as an afterthought, he added, “They’re Mingyu’s favorites actu–” and then he suddenly stopped, lips pursed when he realized how your expression had suddenly fallen. He cleared his throat with a sheepish look. “Sorry.” 

You waved him away with a huff, dipping your pen back into the ink pot. “Don’t be like that. I’m not going to combust if I hear his name.”

Jihoon let out a snort of laughter. “Why do you hate him anyways? He’s a year younger than us.” 

“I don’t hate him,” was your automatic response. 

“Liar.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Okay fine. Why do you severely dislike him?”

You gave Jihoon a deadpan look. “He’s annoying.”

“That’s all?”

“And excessively flirty, seriously stupid, loud, obnoxious, happy-go-lucky, and the prince.” You said everything so matter-of-factly that Jihoon seemed to just stare at you, processing your words. 

After a beat of silence, “Isn’t happy-go-lucky something that’s good?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jihoon shrugged, closing his notebooks and sliding them into his bag. “Why does him being the prince have to do with anything?” 

You clicked your tongue. “We’ve been over this. He’s the prince of Obella. I’m the princess of Xiawei.”

“I’m Obellan.” Jihoon gave you an eyebrow raise that you refused to acknowledge. 

“You’re different. You’re not annoying like everyone else,” you huffed, crossing your arms. 

Jihoon laughed, poking your puffed cheek with a quick finger, dancing out of your reach when you went to slap his hand away. “Whatever you say.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and snatching his blazer from the seat next to him. “I’ll catch you later, yeah?” 

You smiled as you nodded. “See you later!” 

You returned Jihoon’s quick wave as he disappeared through the tombs of the Greane Library, messy black hair waving gently with every step. 

*********************************************************************** 

“I never imagined our first visit to be under these…” your brother trails off as the carriage wheels rumble over the cobblestone road of the Capital, “conditions.” 

You scoff at his words, fingers brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen into your paled face. You pluck off a stray hair from your red ruqun – a delicate silk hand-woven from the imperial tailor shop of Xiawei. “Neither did I.” 

When the carriage slows, the hushed chatter of voices leaking into the curtained windows of your gilded cage, your brows furrow, taking a gloved hand to gently peel away the velvet curtains. Your eyes squint as the blazing Obella sun, so different in its intensity than the warm comforting rays of the gardens of Xiawei. Even from within the guarded carriage, you can hear the whispers and the sharp glares of the crowd that is gathering around your slowing carriage. The horses whine as the driver clicks his tongue, trying to calm them as he waits for the palace guards to open the blasted iron gates.

Perhaps your face was slowly turning sour by the passing minute or perhaps you looked too ill-disposed because in the next second, Minghao pulls the curtain from your tight fingers, a loud scratch as he pulled the curtain shut and all evidence of Obella’s harsh rays disappeared with the crowded whispers and looks. 

You blink. “That was unnecessary,” you state, leaning back into your seat as the carriage lurches again, starting forward slower than before but still moving into what you and your younger brother presume is the castle – no, palace. 

Minghao just shrugs from his seat across you, face arranged into an expression, you guess, is in between grudging obedience and lamentable loathing. His posture is impossibly straight – almost rigid – against the cushioned seats of the carriage as you roll across the raised platform and into the grounds of the royal palace. 

You rattle along with the carriage as it makes its way around the loop of the palace courtyard, stopping haltingly with a neigh of the horses. 

“Are we–”

Minghao is effectively cut off by a sharp rap, followed by three more, against the doors of the carriage. 

You suck in a breath as you peek out the window, only to see the magnificent towering Obellan palace, gilded in gold and spires decorated with amethysts so big you could use them as formidable paper weights.

“We have arrived,” comes the muffled voice of the driver, drawling and so obviously bored with his decided task. 

When your younger brother raises his brow in question, you nod, letting him stand up, hunched, as he opens the door. 

The first sight you’re blinded with is people. Just row after row of people, all dressed in what Obella supposedly thinks is a great display of their wealth (or power, who knows). And in the very middle, three people – lined in a small triangle and glinting with what seems to be gold-hinted armor. 

Minghao steps off of the carriage, offering his hand up to you with a smile. You feel your expression soften at the sight of your brother, so starkly different amongst these Obellan nobles, forced to accompany you in this diplomatic envoy to the very country that had left yours in tatters. 

The only tell – rare, usually, to see from him – of his anxiety in this foreign place is his outstretched hand, pale at the fingertips and shaking as he awaits yours.

Your golden fengguan, chosen by Yuqi to accompany your gold-embroidered ruqun, feels so much heavier at that moment. 

Your fingertips meet the palm of Minghao’s hand and you duck, stepping out of the carriage and down the steps until your hanfu touches the cobblestone ground. Immediately, the whispers start again and Minghao visibly stiffens next to you, his arm robotically lowering when you tap his hand. 

The two of you stand, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, as the carriage whisks away behind you, leaving you bare to the nobles standing before you. A quick glance to your brother threatens to pull a laugh from your lips. 

His brows are furrowed in the same way as they would be if he was studying for his finals in the Academy and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. 

“Nervous?” you tease, mouth barely moving when you see the three-person welcome group start walking towards you when they realize you have no intention of moving. 

Minghao imperceptibly shakes his head. “No,” then, after a pause in a much more worried voice, “Should I be?” 

You smile, but you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends. Do you think we’ll be paraded around like war spoils or treated like delegated guests?” The question is infinitely rhetorical and it stills Minghao into a silence that is tenser than his usual presence.

The jarring footsteps grow louder against the cobblestones and you watch as the three stop in front of you and your brother. 

Closer now, you can see all three of their faces, glowing, almost, in the afternoon sun. And if this was any other time, you would have laughed, maybe run into two of their arms with the brightest smile on your face. But this situation seems too tilted to their side for you to feel any other emotion but betrayal. Pure flaming betrayal that simmers deep in your stomach. 

“Prince Minghao.” Kim Mingyu’s voice is echo-y across the courtyard and hushes any other voice down to silence. Then, he turns his heavy gaze to you, pinning you down where you stood. 

Mingyu seems to be, in every way, shape, and form, the same from his days in the Academy. Perhaps taller, more muscular, more handsome in the regal (disgusting) way (though you refuse to admit that fact). His gold-plated armor decorating his well-built figure glitters like a second sun, refracting and reflecting the golden rays. His shoulders are wide-set and he stands tall, proud, with his dark hair falling gently in his face, swaying with the currents of the light breeze that carries the scent of Obella’s spring flowers into your nose. 

“Princess Y/n.” His smirk is as sharp as the blade at his side, your name rolling off his tongue in a teasing jab. His voice is smooth, polished, and entirely too smug for your taste – like violently rubbing salt into a throbbing wound that has yet to scab over. 

Bitterly, you reply, “Prince,” and that one word alone leaves a sour aftertaste in your mouth. If your mother could see you right now, she would be rolling in her grave. The princess of Xiawei, greeting someone else in the place as an envoy-hostage. 

Minghao stutters in his bow when you don’t make any move to bend. 

Mingyu gives you the faintest tilt of the head, brows rising. 

“A little late, aren’t we?” Mingyu hums, arms crossing and causing the sunlight to bounce off of his royal crest and directly into your face. He grins at your misfortune and you’re almost one hundred percent sure he did that on purpose. 

“Yes, well,” your lips turn down, matching his head tilt, “even a princess can’t control carriage traffic, it seems.” 

Your words are clipped and cold. From behind Mingyu, Jihoon and Jeonghan, both classmates of yours at the Academy, stand awkwardly as Mingyu looks you up and down in what you assume is ill-fated interests. Both of them refuse to meet your eyes as if they know the real reason why you and your brother have been dragged here. 

“Your highness,” Minghao suddenly interrupts, extending an arm towards the glittering palace. His face is arranged into a haunting expression. “Shall we go inside? My sister doesn’t fare well after long carriage rides.” 

Almost as if his words are magic, you suddenly feel lightheaded, eyelids fluttering as you try to steady yourself. If anyone notices, they don’t comment. 

Mingyu gives a sideways glance at Jihoon, who nods curtly, before grinning, turning on his heels. “To the palace, then. I wouldn’t want our precious princess to go on bed rest her first day in Obella!” He gives you a cheeky little wink that makes you want to poke his eyeball out of its socket. But you refrain. If not for political decency and societal manners, then for your brother’s reputation. 

With gritted teeth, you reply with a curt, “Lead the way.” 

The walk to the entrance is deathly silent, save for Mingyu’s occasional hums of a random song. Somehow, the two of you ended up walking side by side, making you sandwiched between Minghao on the right and Mingyu on the left, with Jihoon and Jeonghan trailing behind, furiously whispering with each other (you pretend you don’t hear them). 

When you reach the giant double oak doors, the numerous guards littering the entranceway suddenly all let out a war-cry-esque yell of some kind before they salute Mingyu in what you assume is Obella’s salute. You can’t help but let your face wrinkle in displeasure. 

Mingyu salutes back and in that moment, a small part of you wonders how the prince – who used to be the lollygagging, effortlessly smart, playboy extraordinaire of the Academy – had transformed into the Crown Prince (apparently, you weren’t too sure), that you see in front of you, smiling warmly and bowing to the palace workers who line the entrance room of the palace. 

But that thought quickly vanishes when Mingyu leads you into the entrance hall because gilded statues, so great in size you know the workers had to haul them up from the antique dusty storage room, line the path into what you assume is the actual royal palace. 

When you sneak a glance to Minghao, he is already in awe, glancing around the chandelier-bejeweled ceilings and carpeted path, eyes wide and mouth just slightly open. 

He leans into you before whispering, “Do they always try this hard?”

A puff of laughter escapes your lips that has Mingyu’s head careening towards you and your brother in apt curiosity. 

“Do you remember the Obellan kids from the Academy? Of course, always.” 

You laugh again at Minghao’s awe-stricken nod, craning his head to try to see over the top of the winding staircases. 

Mingyu clears his throat but makes no move to stop your conversation, instead leading the way further into the palace. You chew on your bottom lip as you walk through the halls, paraded down another set of gilded statues. You can’t help but notice how Mingyu’s shoulders shift determinedly under his armor, broad and strong even under the dim chandelier lighting of the palace. That thought returns to you again, instead now you wonder how his presence changed into such a commanding aura suited for such a powerful Crown Prince. 

Though you would never admit out loud, of course. 

“Are you impressed?” comes Mingyu’s sudden voice. He glances down at you with a grin dancing on his lips. For a split second, you think he’s asking about himself.

You tilt your head. “Are you fishing for compliments?” 

Mingyu laughs. “So harsh.” 

“Someone needs to tone you down,” you mutter, not even missing a beat. From beside you, Minghao gives you a warning look that you refuse to acknowledge. 

Mingyu sighs, as if he’s content with your answer. “I missed you,” he hums. Your brows draw together and Minghao’s head snaps towards him. Then, almost as if Mingyu finally realized what he said, his eyes blow wide open, an awkward laugh escaping his lips. 

“God, not like that!” he defends, hands rising as he suddenly completely stops in the middle of a hallway. Behind the three of you, Jihoon and Jeonghan also slow, blinking confusedly at the two of you. Mingyu runs a hand through his hair while his head shakes furiously from side to side. “No, don’t ever take it like that! I just meant that I missed the Academy days! You know? When we used to– god, not like that – when we would fight and stuff! But not in like a–” 

You have to basically hold your breath to prevent your laughs from spilling out of your mouth, shoulders shaking as you try to remain composed. You hold your hand out, fingers splayed. “--I never took you for such an experimental person, your highness,” you say, managing the sentence without any laughter leaking out of your traitorous mouth.  

You hear Jihoon and Jeonghan (as well as Minghao) stifle their laughter at your words. 

Mingyu’s face is now aghast, his ears a blushing red as he goes to defend himself again. 

But you cleanly cut him off, “If you liked me when we were in the Academy, you could’ve just said.” You offer a mocking little smirk that sets Mingyu’s jaw out of its socket and Jeonghan almost dying in laughter. And you swear that if it weren’t for the situation, it would have felt like you were back in the Academy, glorifying yourself in the midst of Mingyu’s embarrassment. 

“It’s not like that!” Mingyu stutters, almost stumbling over his own feet when you turn away from him and walk down the hall. He grabs your upper arm – which earns him a well-timed glare from both you and your brother – before he walks in stride with you again, trying to rearrange his hair so that it lays neat. “I swear, Y/n,” he starts, and you try to ignore how easily your name flows from his tongue, as his eyes widen almost puppy-like and he shakes his head again, walking sideways, “it’s not like that! I just– it just came out wrong! Completely wrong! I’ve never liked you – not in the Academy, not after we graduated, and definitely not now. And I’ll–”

As he continues with his monologue of how much he apparently doesn’t like you, you can feel your irritation bubble in your stomach. 

“--Never! Never ever! Okay?” 

“I’m so glad you think of me as so unattractive you’ve never ever liked me,” you snap, jaw clenched as you try to walk faster down the hall. 

Mingyu just stupidly nods, sighing in what you think is relief, almost. If he hears your scoff of disbelief, he makes no note of it. 

Beside you, Minghao gapes at the two of you, eyes wide. 

“What?” you snap. 

He shakes his head. “No, no. I just–” he clears his throat, “Never knew you guys were this … close?” 

You make a face, disgust clearly, or you hope, written all over it. “Close? Us? If anything, the only thing being here reminds me of is how much I detested that man when I was younger.” 

Mingyu scoffs from next to you, but still opens the door into the private royal wing, letting you enter first (which you do, with the slightest upwards tilt of your chin). 

“I was so likeable in the Academy!” 

You roll your eyes, mouth curving into a displeasured frown. “Get over yourself. God, how is it that you haven’t changed at all?”

“I can say the same thing to you.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Is that all you have?”

“What, you want me to insult you?” 

“Well, I don’t know, can you? Because all I know is that the only insult you can come up with is–”

“--Can we please save this bitch fight for later?” 

You find yourself on the other side of Jihoon’s outstretched arm, with Mingyu across from you. Jihoon looks at you pleadingly in what you assume is code for back off please! So, you grudgingly step away, fixing your curled hair, huffing. 

Jihoon gives a pointed look to Mingyu who pouts in response, before turning back to you. 

“Your highnesses,” he starts, bowing curtly to both you and Minghao. “His majesty originally wanted to dine with the two of you, but due to some other matters, this plan has changed. He requests for His Highness to accompany me and Mage Yoon to the strategy room where his majesty will meet us. He has also told me to convey his wishes that your highness, Princess Y/n, be accompanied to her room by Prince Mingyu. There is a welcoming ball tomorrow night and his majesty has also requested your presence there, your highness.” 

Jihoon finishes with a deep-set bow. From over his lowered shoulder, you see, with something between elation and horrification, Mingyu’s thunder-shaken face, such sharp handsome features stuck in a weird expression. 

Minghao suddenly steps up, touch light on your arm. “Sir, I would prefer it if my sister and I didn't separate.” 

Jihoon glances at Jeonghan, who shrugs, before turning back to the two of you. “I apologize, your highness,” he murmurs, eyes flitting over to you. “I have been ordered by the King.” 

Minghao looks like he’s going to argue back so you intervene, patting your younger brother’s back. You gently shake your head. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do as the King wants,” you oblige, earning a worn, but thankful, smile from Jihoon. 

“Thank you, your highness.” Jihoon gives you one more bow before ushering Minghao (who looks completely unaccustomed to people ordering him around) towards the strategy room with Jeonghan, who gives you one last look before following. 

It leaves you, awkwardly standing, with Mingyu, who had, throughout the conversation, busied himself with gazing out the window like some love-stricken fool. He makes no move to turn back to you, which leaves you standing in the middle of the hall with aching legs because your hanfu is not meant for long-distance travel on foot. 

As you stare at his back and he stares out the window, oblivious (or you hope) to the three who had left, you can’t help but feel relieved that you are placed under Mingyu’s care. At least he was a recognizable face, even if the only memories of him you can think to recall involve you yelling at him or vice versa. 

Finally, Mingyu turns back to you, clearing his throat. His hands are clasped behind his back, trying to appear composed though the faint blush decorating the tips of his ears gives him away. “Well, Princess,” he says with exaggerated formality as he steps up to you. 

It’s unfair, really, how the sun perfectly halos around his form so that it forces you to think that you’re laying eyes upon one of heaven’s very own angels. His tan skin – so much more golden than your days in the Academy – glows, perfectly supplementing his golden armor (or perhaps his armor was supplementing his skin?), and his eyes are warm and teasing. When he stops right in front of you, it forces you to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes. 

When had he gotten this tall?

“Shall we? It seems fate has deemed us a perfect match for tonight.” His voice is light and teasing, almost purposefully airy so that it can slither through your cracks and make you laugh. 

You raise a brow, discreetly shuffling backwards to give yourself more space between his Mingyu-ness and your personal bubble. “More like the king has,” you mutter, trying to maintain your distaste. 

Mingyu just grins, offering his arm to you that you refuse. He shakes his head in faux disappointment, instead gesturing to you to follow. “Either way. I’m honored to be finally of service,” he hums. “Shall I carry you to your room or sing you a lullaby?” 

Your face drops into a look of utter disdain as you scoff. Sadly, your reaction seems to only fuel his amusement. “You and I both know you can’t sing for shit.” 

Mingyu gasps in horror. “I can sing!” He then slows his steps until he’s walking side by side to you. He leans down, face in yours. You will yourself to not pull back and instead keep walking (even though you can feel yourself heat up). 

“You’ve just never heard me actually sing,” Mingyu argues. 

You shrug. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Mingyu mutters something unintelligible and you’re not too interested in what he has to say, so you let him be, rolling your eyes when you see him pout. 

“You’re such a child,” you sigh, turning the corner with him. 

Glancing out the nearest window, you realize the sun has already half-set, basking your part of the palace in the prettiest shade of colors you’ve seen in the last couple months. 

It seems that Mingyu has seen your staring because he clears his throat, pulling you out of your thoughts. When you turn to look at him with a sheepish look, he’s much closer than you thought he would be, causing you to almost crash into his chest, limbs stiff and pulled towards your own chest. Mingyu’s large hands – warm – steady you, firm around your shoulders. 

“Woah,” he mumbles, “you okay?” 

His words act as cold water sprayed over you and you blink, jolting, almost as you scramble back, dusting off your ruqun and straightening your fengguan from where it sits on the top of your head. 

“Let’s go,” you sniff, turning towards a random end of a hallway. 

Mingyu stops you, hand around your arm. “Dumbass, it’s the other way.” 

You’re too busy trying to compose yourself that you just turn with his order, the insult not even registering properly. 

You follow Mingyu down the hall, cheeks dusted with a light pink, and you try not to be too embarrassed as you hold your head up. As the two of you continue down the hall, the silence that follows is weirdly comfortable and comforting. You can feel yourself relaxing as Mingyu hums a soft melody, glancing back every so often at you. You take the intervals of a forward-facing Mingyu to study him. It’s been at least ten years (maybe less) since the Academy. You graduated before he did and then right away entered Xiawei’s Courts, ultimately pulling you away from any Academy holdings or other events. If you are honest with yourself, you thought seeing Mingyu again wouldn’t be as conflicting as it seems to be right now. And as you stare at his broad shoulders and thick arms, you feel that there is an odd familiarity in the Crown Prince’s presence that you convince yourself you are better off not acknowledging. 

As you near what you presume is your chambers, there are guards loitering around the hallway, trying to play off what is so obviously an Obellan envoy-hostage game as some kind of “guards on break inside the palace.” This time, when the soldiers salute Mingyu, he looks a smidge uncomfortable, saluting back with less enthusiasm. 

“Knights?” you ask, voice light but you know it has an edge of bitterness to it. “Just for a helpless princess like me? If I knew better, I’d think you were holding me hostage or something,” you hum. You keep on walking, trying to gauge Mingyu’s reaction from your peripheral vision as you continue down the hall. 

Mingyu clears his throat, glancing towards one of the knights leaning against the wall. “It doesn’t hurt to have precautions,” he mumbles, and it surprises you to realize how little argument he has with your claims. And then you realize what he means. 

Of course they were holding you hostage. It’s not like you had expected anything other than this treatment when you were coming from Xiawei. But still, hearing it from the very person who had called upon you under the guise of diplomacy bubbled a pot of frustration, bitterness, and betrayal in your stomach. 

He stops in front of a set of double oak doors, handles a gleaming golden and manned by two guards who seem like they want to be doing anything but guard a foreign princess overnight. 

“Yuqi arrived before you did. She’s in her quarters next door,” Mingyu suddenly states, turning on his heels to face you. 

You raise a brow. “That’s,” you pause, eyes darting to the door just a few steps down the hall, “good to hear. She came fast,” you mumble, and your expression softens into one of tiniest gratitude towards Mingyu. 

Then, he snickers behind his hand covering his mouth. “That’s what I always say,” he chortles, laughing at his own joke like he just said the funniest thing to exist. 

And immediately, whatever gratitude or relief you had from his words disappears like it wasn’t there to begin with. You scoff, loud, pushing him to the side to wrench the door open, your eyes rolling. 

Mingyu stumbles to the side, laughter dying to be replaced with a mocking smirk. “What? Oh, right,” he clicks his tongue, “You wouldn’t know what that means. Princess Prim and Proper.” 

Halfway into your room, you glance over your shoulder at him and you hope your glare is heavy enough to pierce through his horribly thick skull (though quite handsome now). “Oh,” you sigh, “go fuck yourself, Crown Prince,” you snap. Your words echo in the hallway and it seems as though Mingyu hadn’t been expecting those words because the last thing you see when you slam your door shut behind you is Mingyu’s shocked face, the smirk diluted down to a surprised twitch of his lips, as if he didn’t know you could curse. 

You shake your head as you look around the room. 

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter to yourself as your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, the only light being the roaring fireplace on the other end of the room. Just because you hadn’t been with anyone like he had, all prancing around in his half-buttoned Academy uniform with his arm draped over a new girl every week like he needed a new prey to satiate his ever-growing hunger. The audacity still embedded into the stupid stupid Crown Prince almost makes you gag at the prospect of being stuck under his care for the god-knows-how-long period of time you’re caged in Obella as a hostage (oops, envoy!). For all you know, he might just leave you out to die – starve and dehydrate in the royal gardens or something. And when Jun visits you and Minghao like he said he would, your older brother is going to find you dead in some random side-alley of the palace. 

God, the things you go through to–

Knock, knock. 

You exhale sharply, dragging a tied hand over your face before turning towards the door. The last thing you want to see, or deal with, is him. Again! So soon! But when you heave open the heavy oak door, the figure standing in front of you makes you just about cry in joy.

All you’re awarded with is a familiar scent of vanilla, a wave of curly light brown, and a blur of dark silk  before the door slams shut again. 

“I hate you,” Yuqi hisses, gripping your arms as she stares into you. “Do you know what I had to endure in this ghastly place?” 

Despite your exhaustion, you can’t help but bite back a loud laugh. “You already knew we were going to be sent up here.” 

“Yes,” Yuqi groans, throwing her head back, “but while you rode in with Minghao, that doesn’t mean I was prepared to sit in a carriage with Zhong Chenle of all people, while he waxed poetic about the ‘delicate political and economic balance of this arrangement’ and gawked at all the passing noblewomen.” Yuqi throws her hands up, shaking her head in disgust that looked a little too real to be fake. “I thought about throwing myself out thrice.” 

She has you almost choking in laughter, stepping aside to let her roam your room in relative peace. Yuqi gracefully takes on the silent offer, striding past you and frowning at the lavish Obellan style room before flopping dramatically onto the velvet divan, an arm draped over her eyes. 

“Hey,” you hum, hands slapping down onto her shoulders, “you think you have it bad? Now I’m here and he’s here and I’m forced to breathe the same air as the Crown Prince of–”

“--Your nightmares? Horrors? Terrors?” Yuqi groans, hands going to rest on yours, shaking your arms as she turns around, facing you properly. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a laugh of disbelief. “It’s actually tragic!” 

You roll your eyes, moving to pour yourself a cup of tea from the tray by the fireplace. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s not horrible.” 

Yuqi gasps, hands flying to cover her mouth. “This wretched place has already tainted you so,” she cries, hands slapping her knees. 

You shoot her a dry look, sipping your tea. “I’ve been here for five hours, Qi.” 

“Exactly! Long enough, apparently, to lose your sense of reason!” She shudders dramatically. “What’s going to be next? You’ll start saying he smells nice?” 

Your face wrinkles into displeasure. “Ew no. He smells like sweat.” 

Yuqi blanches, “You smelled him?” 

“No!” You huff, “Of course that’s what he’s going to smell like, god, I don’t know! Stop asking questions!” 

“You hate him!”

You blink. “I never said that.”

Yuqi stands up abruptly, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You just defended him! You–”

“--I never defended him!” you argue. 

“Well, you did subconsciously! What happened to Qiqi, I’d rather drink poison than be stuck in the same room as him?” Yuqi narrows her eyes, stalking over to where you were standing. She is quiet before she scoffs at your aghast, blinking face. “Stockholm syndrome,” she states, hands flying up, almost hitting your teacup out of your hands. “It’s happening. Already.”

You sigh, gently setting the delicate porcelain down before she actually hits it out of your hands, and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yuqi, you’re being dramatic-”

“-No!” She collapses onto another sofa, fanning herself with a fan you didn’t even know she was holding. “I know you. I know how much you loathe him. How much you think he’s a horrible, wretched, useless little-”

“-Yuqi.” 

“Fine, fine. Either way, you’re telling me that you think he’s not horrible? God, please,” Yuqi scoffs, arms crossing over her chest, rustling the delicate navy blue silk of her robes, “you’re either lying to yourself or his princely Obellan cooties have already wormed their way inside your brain like a goddamn parasite.” 

You want to laugh, really, but the stringent way Yuqi stares you down has you weakly forcing out a snort. “Fine. I hate him. I think he’s horrible. Good?” 

Yuqi stares. “And smelly.” 

Now you really laugh. “Fine, yes. And smelly.” 

“Say it again.” 

“I hate him…” You trail off when the moon, shining so bright outside like a glittering silver platter catches your eyes. You don’t think you’ve seen it so big and round when you were back in Xiawei. Or maybe you didn’t have time to gaze out windows back home. Either way. When you take a step closer to the large french windows, suddenly, a scene, from just minutes ago, rapidly rewinds through your head. 

His chest, large warm hands firm around your shoulders, and the ever-so-slightly present glint of worry (disgusting) that shone in his eyes for a split second.

“Are you okay, y/n?” 

And you must be actually going insane because you feel heat creep up your neck and blush your cheeks and your lips finds themselves whispering a soft “...most of the time,” towards the window. 

It makes Yuqi gasp so loudly you jolt, almost jumping in the air. 

“Oh my god.” She clutches your wrist so quickly it almost gives you a whiplash. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft. Not for him.”

You scoff, backing away. “As if.” Your eyes, however, search for something else to look at.

“Come on, y/n, I know it’s been years but he’s still the same old mindless prince.” 

“I know, Yuqi.” 

“What did he say to you to deserve even a moment of hesitation?” 

“Yuqi, come on.”

“I’ll stab him. Actually. What did he say?”

“Yuqi.”

“This is a national crisis, y/n! If you’re wavering, then we’re all forever doomed to be chained to this wretched, wretched land with no silk!”

You shake your head, pushing her back onto the couch with a shove. “I hate him,” you insist. “Okay? He’s insufferable, arrogant, and the only thing I’ve realized today was that I’d rather bite my own tongue off than listen to him speak again.” 

Yuqi is quiet while she studies you meticulously, brown eyes tracing over your form as if she could read your aura or something. She finally sighs, slumping back onto the couch. “That’s better. You scared me for a second.” 

You don’t dignify her dramatics with a response, shaking your head as you turn towards a countertop to set your jewels on. 

“...But mark my words. If you ever hesitate again, know that I’m poisoning his wine.” 

taglist...

[utopiastri]

Hi, hello!!!

May i request sleep deprivation for the fic prompt, pretty please???? To be honest I'd be so happy with any ship (bc im obsessed with ur writing), but mayhaps landoscar or maxcar???🥺🥺🥺

Hope you are having a wonderful day!<3

-💫

💫 anon!!! hi lovely! thank you for the prompt! i hope you're having a lovely day too and i hope you enjoy some maxcar!!!

Of all the people that Oscar expected to bump into whilst walking around Monaco at 5am, he wouldn’t have bet on Max Verstappen.

Or, well, he wouldn’t have bet a lot on Max Verstappen – Monaco’s tiny and Max does live here, so it’s not entirely unreasonable to run into him. But still.

5am.

“Oscar! Mate, hi!”

Oscar does his best not to wince at how cheery Max is. From the way Max’s face falls slightly, he’s guessing he doesn’t do a particularly good job of it.

“Hey, Max,” he says quietly, giving him a tired smile.

“What are you doing up so early? I wouldn't have guessed you were a morning person.”

“Just, um, going for a walk, I guess.”

Max frowns. “Hm.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. Oscar prays that the street lighting is dim enough for the dark circles under his eyes to stay hidden.

Eventually, when it becomes clear that Max isn’t going to say anything else, Oscar says, “Right, uh, I’ll see you.”

Oscar’s barely even turned around to start walking in the opposite direction when Max calls out, “Wait! What are you doing after your walk?”

Living the Monaco high life, Oscar thinks to himself, going back to bed and tossing and turning for another six fruitless hours.

“Nothing much,” is what Oscar actually says. In fairness, it isn’t exactly a lie.

“I was just finishing up my run. You should come back to mine for some breakfast,” Max suggests.

Oscar gives Max an assessing look and notes that he looks more like a person about to go for a run than one just finishing one up. Max folds his arms and raises an eyebrow, as if daring Oscar to call his bluff.

On another day, maybe Oscar would. But he feels so tired his bones are heavy with it and giving in is the much easier thing to do.

“Yeah, ok.”

-

Oscar doesn’t realise that the breakfast invite is a trap until he’s blearily blinking his eyes open a few hours later. Or, maybe ‘trap’ is the wrong word. ‘Trap’ implies that there was some trickery or persuasion involved. Max didn’t exactly have to do much convincing to get Oscar to take a seat on his sofa. And Max certainly didn’t have to do much convincing to get Oscar to let his eyes flutter shut, since they were very much doing that of their own accord.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Max calls from the kitchen. Oscar slowly begins to register where is. He bolts upright when he realises that he managed to fall asleep on Max’s sofa when the poor man had only invited him in for a pastry and some coffee.

“Shit, Max, I’m so sorry,” he says, trying to stand up from the sofa and only managing to almost fall flat on his face, his legs getting twisted in a knitted blanket Max must’ve thrown over him. His face flares bright red and he refuses to look in Max’s direction.

Unfortunately, Max has other plans. He feels Max’s gaze burn into the side of his face until finally Oscar looks up and meets Max’s eyes. He’s smirking ever so slightly.

“No apologising. You needed sleep and, for whatever reason, you cannot get it at home. So you slept on my sofa.” Max says it so matter-of-factly that Oscar almost finds himself nodding along.

“No, wait,” Oscar shakes himself and reminds himself that this is ridiculous, “Max, it wasn’t fair, or, I mean, it was rude of me to fall asleep on your sofa.”

“No, it wasn’t, I didn’t mind.”

Oscar groans slightly. “Well, maybe, you should mind.”

A calculating look appears on Max's face. “To clarify," he says, "You object to the part where you fell asleep on my sofa?”

“Yes,” Oscar says firmly.

“Fine. I agree you should not fall asleep on my sofa.”

“Good.”

“You should fall asleep on my bed.”

“What?” Oscar splutters staring at Max, “Hang on.”

However, Max is too busy grabbing Oscar by the arm and frogmarching him through his flat to take heed of Oscar's request for him to hang on. Oscar’s so bewildered by this turn of events he doesn’t even fight the manhandling that much. Before he knows it, he finds himself sat down on Max’s giant bed, staring up at him.

Max is smirking again.

“There, problem solved. You can’t fall asleep on the sofa if you’re asleep in my bed.”

“Max,” Oscar starts.

Max raises an eyebrow ready to counter whatever Oscar’s next argument will be. Oscar sighs.

He knows when he’s beaten. Max smile grows even wider.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me." He turns to leave but Oscar, almost without thinking, grabs his hand before he can.

His skin starts tingling where it's touching Max's and he does his best to ignore it. Oscar swallows. “Stay?” he asks, voice nothing more than a whisper.

Oscar thinks he might have found the one thing to say that would catch Max off-guard, even if that wasn’t his intention. His expression doesn’t shift, but Oscar can just about make out two dots of pink high in Max’s cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“Stay,” Oscar repeats, less of a request and more of a command.

Max takes a second but eventually nods and crawls into the other side of the bed. Oscar carefully arranges his body so it's not touching Max's at all and then has to do his best not to react when he feels Max reach out and gently interlock their fingers. “Sleep,” he whispers.

Oscar convinces himself the kiss he feels pressed to his forehead is purely induced by sleep deprivation.

[ariesprincesss]

Super Random Astro Observations Pt. IV

as always, i am not an astrologer just a silly girl that knows a ton about astrology🤓

View more observations in this series here:

Super Random Astro Observations

Super Random Astro Observations Pt. II

Super Random Astro Observations Pt. III

��₊˚🌈 sun conjuct pluto synastry first meeting was so insane!!

‧₊˚🌈 upon reading into these aspects everything makes sense with my last situation… i also had mercury conjuct pluto with him and as pluto there was a huge obsession over him and intrigue the instant i met him & he def had secrets and a hard time opening up i could tell that he kept cards close to his chest.

‧₊˚🌈 as a gemini venus & mars and the only coworkers ive made instant friends with being geminis is so crazy to me😭 i swear, they love to chat with me & i love it with them !!

‧₊˚🌈 back to the gemini energy, i can ALWAYS feel when someone has gemini placements like omg. every gemini sun ive gotten close with makes a point of like talking about everything ever , asking questions they probably shouldn’t ask, & just being overactive in that way😭 i will say that i feel like gemini in sun sign is kind of weak just in the sense that other placements can reallyyyy mellow their sun out.

‧₊˚🌈 2nd house venus in lunar return chart i spent money with absolutely no care lol. it was also in a taurus degree & i spent it solely on beauty products & clothes LOL

‧₊˚🌈 as an 8th houser (mercury especially) i have like a super big thing with being inconspicuous & using indirect language in conversation with ppl im just getting to know whenever they ask me questions, because i just don’t feel like they should know things ab me😭

‧₊˚🌈 so im like 2/3 months away from my solar return and am seeing it show up in real time… 6h stellium in my natal 7th is making me focus on work relationships & i don’t usually make friends w coworkers and ive already made 2 friends , one coworker i just met yesterday and another that i met like two months ago lol

‧₊˚🌈 after experiencing 8h synastry it rlly felt like the year was almost separated from before i met him and then after because of how different life felt for me afterwards

‧₊˚🌈 I noticed SO many 9h northnode celebrities having very similar life structures. Affluent or well off religious parent(s), moving homes often when young or in adulthood, having teachers or being guided by someone, studied their future profession in school/college, and lastly a lesser commonality i noticed was adopting a different religion at some stage in their life. i think above all with this placement leaving your birth town/ your place of residence could be important in your life story. (Ex: Donna Summer moving to Europe to preform in the musical ‘Hair’ which jumpstarted her career!)

‧₊˚🌈 also random but i noticed that a lot of virgo rising celebrities with 9h northnode were the youngest of 3 siblings & i am too so i thought that was super interesting lol or being one of 3 siblings, being the 3rd child birthed could be significant

‧₊˚🌈 leo mars musicians and being effortlessly good at playing instruments/having the ability to create their own special way of doing something /putting their own spin on something in their music… ex: Jeff Beck, Paul McCartney

‧₊˚🌈 so i always reference a life changing event in these that altered everything about my existence but i never reference what my solar return showed for that year. i had a 12th house stellium (sun,jupiter,neptune,chiron) and mercury, northnode, and uranus in my first house. it literally reads like a hidden part of myself is finally let out and expands, and it was almost like “ fate” for me to change mentally and physically that year. i also had pluto 10h and this feels like it manifested in a public change, or a change in public image and i literally had customers at my job going “you look different everytime i see you” 🫢, my natal sun sign was on the ascendant too and that year i started to come more into myself or i guess i became more like myself if that makes sense!(astrology is scary & almost so overt at times , it’s funny)

‧₊˚🌈 a year when i was overly promiscuous i had 8h moon & vertex in my solar return…

‧₊˚🌈 the month i got covid last year in my lunar return i had neptune & saturn retrograding in 6th house ,neptune square my midheaven & i was out of work for weeks lol

‧₊˚🌈 this one is less of an observation more of a question for the culture😭 has anyone else seen how lunar returns, solar returns, transits ,etc. kind of like hint that something or someone important is coming towards you? i think that is SO interesting because the month i met my ex online ,i had 7h vertex, chiron, & northnode but i remember at the time not considering him until the day before my lunar return chart switched to the next month when he made a big impression on me & asked to take me out and in that lunar return chart i had 7h juno & then 7h vertex again!

‧₊˚🌈 3 months before i met my ex, my ascendant progressed into libra in my progressed chart🫢

‧₊˚🌈 some transits i had for meeting him in person were transit south node trine venus and transit venus sextile northnode! i 1000% consider him as one of my first big karmic partners. you guys can read more about this meetings transits here !

‧₊˚🌈 I’ve recently been introduced to solar arc progressions which is a form of predictive astrology and found out i’m supposed to have a fated meeting with someone february 10th🫢 solar arcs only work to predict something like this if you have confirmation from 3 different chart sources tho!!! For me My Solar Return, Lunar Return, and transits confirm this meeting.

———————————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading! Comment what other Astrology content I should make bc i have no idea lol. I hope you guys enjoyed these observations ♡

[semisasseater]

Baby, you’re so preciou-ciou-ciou-cious.

Boyfriend! Thanos x Boyfriend! Nam gyu

Summary: poor nam gyu was never able to paint his nails and thought he’d never be able to, until he asked his boyfriend to paint them.

Tw: mentions of drugs, fluff, angst if u squint, low self esteem, soft intimacy, acts of service, just cute stuff, let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: i HAD to write this once i saw someone ask for this.. i literally love thangyu so much people who don’t can argue with me !! i swear thangyu is my little babies who do no wrong…? anyways after im done with my other requests i might just also focus on writing thangyu!! also gabby hates me yall </3 (im lying i think)

Not proofread!

Word count: 579

Nam gyu had always wanted to paint his nails. It was a small, silly dream, but a dream nonetheless. Every time he tried, though, it ended in disaster—streaks of polish smeared across his fingers, uneven globs drying in clumps, and an overall mess that left him more frustrated than satisfied. His hands shook too much from all the drugs he had taken in the past with his boyfriend, a lingering reminder of mistakes he couldn’t erase.

Tonight, though, as he pushed open the door to Thanos’s room, he saw something that made his heart flutter.

There, sitting on the floor, back against the bed, was his boyfriend, carefully painting his own nails. A deep violet polish coated his finger, matching his vibrant purple hair. His movements were precise, steady, effortless.

Nam gyu hesitated in the doorway before quietly stepping inside, lowering himself next to Thanos. He fiddled with the hem of his oversized green-and-white shirt, biting his lip before finally whispering,

“Please paint my nails…”

His voice was small, almost embarrassed, and when Thanos turned to look at him, his expression was one of mild confusion.

“You want your nails painted?”

Nam gyu nodded, his dark eyes filled with something vulnerable, something hopeful.

Thanos studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay I’ll do yours after alright?”

Another nod, and Nam gyu settled in, watching closely as Thanos finished painting his last nail. There was something oddly calming about the way he did it—the slow, careful strokes, the way he blew on them after to dry. It was fascinating, almost hypnotic.

When Thanos finally turned to him, he patted the space in front of him. “Okay come here”

Nam gyu shifted so that he was fully facing his boyfriend. Thanos reached for the small collection of polish bottles beside him and glanced up. “What color do you want?”

There was a pause before Nam gyu murmured, “Black”

Thanos nodded, picking up the black polish and opening it with ease. He reached for Nam gyu’s hand, but as soon as he touched it, he felt it—how badly it trembled. The shaking was worse up close, uncontrollable. It made something in Thanos’s chest ache with guilt.

Without a word, he gently took Nam Gyu’s finger, holding it steady in his own hand before carefully applying the first stroke of polish.

Nam gyu watched, his lips parting slightly. He had never been good at sitting still, but in this moment, he felt frozen, caught in the warmth of Thanos’s hands, the way he handled him with such patience.

Thanos worked in silence, finishing the left hand before moving to the right, his grip never faltering. He didn’t rush, didn’t get frustrated, even when Nam gyu’s fingers twitched every now and then.

And then, finally, it was done.

Thanos blew gently on Nam gyu’s nails before leaning back with a satisfied nod. “Wait for them to dry okay?”

Nam gyu stared at his hands, his breath catching. It wasn’t just that they were painted perfectly—it was that someone had done this for him. Someone who cared.

“Thank you…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Thanos simply smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of Nam gyu’s head. “Of course anything for my love”

For the first time, Nam gyu didn’t feel ashamed of his shaking hands. Because for once, they had been held with love.

And for the first time, his nails were painted perfectly.

All thanks to his amazing boyfriend.

@semisasseater

Taglist : @ancientvamp