#sorry to anyone who doesn't appreciate this content but i have needed to get this out for almost 10 years

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: Boyfriend Privileges Pairing: Mingyu x gn(femme presenting)!reader Genre: fluff, suggestive, established relationship Wordcount: 9.9k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: The ten times Mingyu has shown off his "boyfriend privileges"

Warnings: suggestive content not suitable for anyone under the age of 18, food mention, pet names, reader presents as feminine at one point (wearing a dress) but it still reads as gender neutral, slight angst, bathing together

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

Masterlists

You're not sure exactly when it began or what prompted it, but a few months into your relationship, Mingyu started asking you to do little tasks for him. They're always small, often tedious things. Whenever you hesitate, he flashes a charming smile and invokes "boyfriend privileges." Maybe it's the playful way he says it or the endearing look in his eyes, but you always end up giving in.

Mingyu, ever perceptive, has noticed this and teeters on the brink of abusing his "powers." But it doesn't bother you. You'd happily indulge your boyfriend's privileges.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 1. Overgrown puppy cuddles

Mingyu is a large puppy that just doesn’t understand how big he is. At least, that's how you see him. Whenever your boyfriend comes home from an especially rough day at work, he wants cuddles. It doesn't matter what you're doing, he'll pout and beg until you sit down on the couch and let him cuddle up in your lap.

"You're crushing me," you mutter.

You're sitting with your legs over the couch cushions, your back against the armrest. Mingyu's laying over your body like a human blanket—one of those electrical blankets that people use in winter. The man is warm.

"Boyfriend privileges," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your skin.

You sigh because you know he's right, you'd let him do this even if he's crushing your bones. Letting your fingers tangle in his hair, Mingyu let's out a sound of approval and nuzzles his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His arms are around your torso, making sure that you don't even try to move. Not that you would.

"Did you have a long day?" you ask softly and he hums. "My poor baby..."

You coo at him, and he whines—he's relishing in being doted on. Mingyu's arms squeeze you a little, a silent sign that he wants you to continue.

"You work so hard, don't you?" You wait for Mingyu to nod before you coo again, "My hardworking Gyu, you're doing such a good job. People love you, you know that? They appreciate your work. So do I."

Mingyu tilts his head up, his eyebrows raised as he silently asks for confirmation. "I really do," you add.

"Thank you..." He puts his forehead against your chest and sighs. "I needed this... needed you."

"I know, puppy." You smile and ruffle his hair.

Mingyu groans and lifts his upper body off of you, his arms resting on the armrest behind you. "Oh, finally! I can breathe!" you exclaim dramatically.

"Sorry," he mutters.

You cup his face in your hands. "I was kidding. I don't mind." You lean in and press a kiss on his pouty lips. "You're like my blanket... or like a Saint Bernard who's forgotten he's not a puppy anymore."

Mingyu smiles at that, before leaning in to litter your face with pecks that have you giggling and squealing.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 2. Random massages

You're in line for a ride at an amusement park when Mingyu suddenly turns to you. It's been at least five minutes since you started waiting, and you can tell he's getting impatient. His foot taps rhythmically on the ground, and he keeps glancing at his watch.

"Can you give me a massage? My shoulder's stiff," he huffs, rubbing the offending spot for emphasis.

"Again?" Your eyebrows furrow with concern. "Gyu, you should really go see a specialist..."

Mingyu pretends to ponder this suggestion, then shakes his head with a playful grin. "I don't need a specialist if I have you."

You sigh and roll your eyes, but can't help smiling at his pleading expression. His big, puppy-like eyes, the way his smile showcases his adorable canines, and his hands clasped together in a mockery of prayer make it impossible to refuse. "Sure," you mutter, already resigning yourself to his request.

The line moves a little, and you both shuffle forward a few steps. You're momentarily distracted by the imposing structure of the rollercoaster ahead, watching as the cart sends passengers hurtling through loops and dips at breakneck speed. Your reverie is interrupted by Mingyu poking your side.

"What?" you ask, looking back at him.

"Please?" he repeats, his tone even more imploring.

"Now?" You glance around at the crowd surrounding you—though no one seems to be paying attention, you feel self-conscious.

"Now," Mingyu insists, nodding earnestly.

"Babe, I can't massage you here. You know you shouldn't take off your shirt in public, right? Even if we do find somewhere private, I don't have any oils—"

"Not a big one." He interrupts, holding up his hand with his index finger and thumb inches apart. "A small one. Just on the spot on my shoulder."

"Gyu—"

"Boyfriend privileges," he pleads quietly, eyes wide and hopeful.

You can't say no to him when he gets like this. With a resigned sigh, you motion for him to turn around. He does so eagerly, bending his knees slightly to give you better access to his shoulder. Placing one hand on his neck and the other on his shoulder, you begin to work your thumb into the knot you find there.

Mingyu lets out a soft, contented sigh, only audible to your ears, as he relaxes almost immediately under your touch. The tension in his shoulder melts away, and his head drops forward slightly, eyes closing in relief. The gentle hum of the amusement park, the chatter of the crowd, and the distant screams from the rollercoaster all fade into the background as you focus on easing his discomfort.

Despite the oddity of the situation, there's something intimate and endearing about the moment. The world around you blurs, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of your own making. And as you massage Mingyu's shoulder, you can't help but feel a warm rush of affection for him and his silly, endearing ways.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 3. Sharing food

The restaurant is alive with the hum of conversations, the clinking of cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter. However, all of this fades into a distant background as you focus intently on Chan's story. It's a rare opportunity to meet the members in person, despite your boyfriend working so closely with them, so you want to make the most of every second.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is lost in his own world. Ever since he finished his meal, he’s been zoned out—leaning back in his chair with a distant look in his eyes. You can't decide if he's impatiently waiting for Chan to finish or if he's just succumbed to a food coma. But when he casually reaches over and steals a fry from your plate, your doubts about the food coma vanish. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze with a small, mischievous smile before grabbing another fry. You let him.

A sudden gasp beside you snaps you back, and you turn to see Jun staring at you with mock jealousy from across the table. You smile and tilt your head questioningly.

"What?" you ask, bemused.

"You hit my hand when I tried to borrow a fry from you," Jun accuses, his eyes narrowed at you.

"First of all, I gently slapped it," you correct him. "Second of all, you were stealing, not borrowing. Don't try to make your crime sound better."

Jun huffs dramatically, and you can't help but grin. Meanwhile, Mingyu, taking advantage of the distraction, nabs another fry from your plate. There are almost none left now. As Jun reaches out to make another attempt, you slap his hand away with a swift motion.

"But he—" Jun starts to protest.

"Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu interjects smoothly, popping the last two fries into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

You hear a collective groan from the others at the table, but you just chuckle at Mingyu’s proud expression. "Mhm, boyfriend privileges," you repeat softly, unable to suppress a smile.

You lift a hand to gently brush the hair out of Mingyu's face, and he looks at you with a loving smile that makes your heart flutter. The warm feeling in your stomach is more than just the satisfaction from the delicious food you've eaten.

"Can I finish telling my story now?" Chan interrupts, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

You pull your gaze away from Mingyu and refocus on Chan, giving him your full attention once again. "Go on," you say, eager to hear the rest of his tale.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 4. Seeing you first thing in the morning

The feeling of someone's soft breaths feathering against your face makes you scrunch your nose in sleepy annoyance. Mingyu's warm hands travel to your waist with the familiarity of someone who’s done it a million times before. And he has. His touch is intimate and assured, sliding over your skin with practiced ease. He knows you're awake now, evident by the low hum you let out, so he presses a few tender kisses on the bare skin of your clavicle, each one like a gentle spark of warmth.

"G'morning," you mutter, your voice still heavy with sleep, the words blending into a sigh.

"Good morning," he whispers softly, his breath tickling your skin.

You recognize his morning voice—his "I just woke up" voice—so you can tell he’s been up for a while. His voice sounds clearer, more alert, like he’s had time to turn around and take a sip of the water he always leaves on his bedside table.

"Have you been awake for long?" you ask, your words barely above a whisper as his lips continue their gentle exploration, each kiss a tender reminder of his affection.

"Since eight-thirty," he answers between kisses, each one a delicate attempt to keep you as close as possible.

You glance at the clock, seeing that it's almost nine already. "Babe, you've been awake for half an hour... why didn’t you wake me up?"

Mingyu pauses his kisses to look up at you, his expression soft and affectionate, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Turning his head slightly, he looks over at the clock and hums thoughtfully.

"I was busy," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. He nestles his head back in the crook of your neck, his warmth enveloping you, but doesn’t resume his kisses, much to your dismay.

"Busy doing what?" you murmur, curiosity piqued, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back.

"Looking at you," he admits with a giggle, lifting his head to meet your eyes. His gaze is filled with affection, his eyes sparkling with sincerity, and he's trying his best to hold back a big grin. "It's my boyfriend privilege. Only I get to see you like this."

"It's a privilege to see my bed head?" You snort, but Mingyu stays serious, his eyes unwavering, his hand gently stroking your cheek.

"Everyday," he replies softly, his voice a tender caress.

You feel a rush of warmth at his words, and you can't help but smile. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer for a soft, lingering kiss. His lips are warm and inviting, the kiss deepening with the love and tenderness that has grown between you over the months. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this quiet, intimate moment.

When you finally pull back, Mingyu's eyes are half-lidded, his expression content and serene. He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch light and loving. "I love these quiet mornings with you," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your soul.

"Me too," you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection, your eyes locked with his.

You snuggle closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. The world outside can wait a little longer as you bask in the warmth of each other's presence, the quiet intimacy of the morning making everything else fade away. Mingyu's hands continue their gentle caresses, his fingers tracing soft lines over your skin. You feel utterly cherished, each touch and kiss a testament to the love you share. The gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the warmth of his body against yours create a cocoon of contentment that you never want to leave.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 5. Showing you off

"Gyu!" you shout from the bathroom, "What time is it?"

The sound of his long steps come closer and closer until the bathroom door pushes open. Mingyu's head peeks through the gap in the door, and smiles as soon as he sees you. You're wearing the new dress he bought you, the cute sundress that couldn't help himself from buying when he saw you looking at it.

"You're pretty," he murmurs and slinks into the bathroom.

He wraps his arms around you, your back relaxing into his chest. "Mingyu," you repeat.

"What?" He pulls his eyes away from the dress to meet your eyes.

"What time is it?" you ask again with a teasing smile.

"Oh, it's around three-thirty." His hands find your waist. "We should leave in half an hour."

You nod and start packing up your make up. "Good, I think I'm done anyway... do you think I look okay?"

Mingyu lets go of you, spinning you around to face him. You can only grin while he studies you carefully with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed in focus. After a few seconds, he nods—satisfied with what he's seen.

"Perfect." He puts his hand right below your jaw, careful not to disturb the make up on your face. "You look perfect, baby."

His smile remains radiant as you arrive at his family's get-together, a constant beam of joy that lights up the entire evening. Mingyu keeps you close, his arm possessively yet gently wrapped around you, presenting you to the members of his family you haven't yet met. Every introduction is accompanied by a glowing remark about you, his voice brimming with pride. You feel like a movie star at a film premiere—the constant pampering, the way his eyes sparkle every time he looks at you, and the sneaky photos he snaps when he thinks you're not looking.

Mingyu can't seem to stop showering you with compliments. "This is my partner," he says, beaming, as he introduces you to yet another relative. "They're incredible, you know. Smart, kind, and absolutely stunning." He turns his head to you, trying to contain his big smile by biting down on his bottom lip.

You blush, murmuring polite responses, but his praise never ceases. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes full of adoration, and the way he never lets go of your hand, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin in a soothing gesture.

Throughout the evening, Mingyu is a constant presence by your side, his touch grounding you amidst the whirlwind of social interactions. His family is warm and welcoming, their smiles genuine as they embrace you into their fold. The air is filled with laughter and conversation, the smell of delicious food wafting through the house, creating an atmosphere of warmth and togetherness.

Mingyu’s playful nature shines through as he snaps candid photos of you, his grin widening each time you catch him in the act. "You’re just too beautiful not to capture," he explains with a cheeky smile, earning a soft laugh from you.

As the night progresses, you find yourself growing more and more flustered under the weight of his unending compliments. Yet, there's a thrill in it—a heady mixture of embarrassment and joy at being the center of his universe. His family notices, and they tease him gently about his lovesick behavior, but it only makes him hold you closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that make your heart flutter.

By the time the evening winds down, you’re overwhelmed with affection, feeling cherished and adored in a way that leaves you breathless. The warmth of Mingyu’s family, combined with his constant praise and tender glances, has wrapped you in a cocoon of love and contentment. As you prepare to leave, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close for a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Thank you for coming with me tonight," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with genuine gratitude. "You made everything perfect."

You smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own. "Thank you for taking me along... I don't think I've seen you like this before," you admit, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet of the night.

"What do you mean?" He cocks his head, his eyes curious and endearing, making you laugh softly at his obliviousness.

"You were trying to show me off all night," you explain, a playful note in your voice. Seeing his slightly worried expression, you quickly add, "It was sweet, Gyu. Really, it was."

Relief floods his features, and he leans in to press a kiss on your lips. The kiss is soft, lingering a second longer than it should, filling you with a warmth that spreads through your entire body. "It's my boyfriend privilege to get to show you off," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and affection.

You groan playfully, rolling your eyes at his words as he starts giggling, the sound infectious and heartwarming. Taking your hand in his, he leads you to the cab he's ordered to take you home. The night air is cool and refreshing, a gentle breeze rustling through the trees, but Mingyu's hand in yours keeps you warm.

As you approach the cab, he pauses for a moment, turning to look at you with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. "You know," he says softly, brushing a stray hair from your face, "You should wear that dress more often."

"Oh yeah?"

Your breath catches in your throat at his words as he pulls you into a tight embrace. "Yeah," he whispers.

With one last lingering kiss, you both get into the cab, his arm never leaving your shoulders. As the city lights blur past the window, you lean into Mingyu, feeling his warmth envelop you.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 6. A shoulder to cry on

When you enter the apartment, none of the lights are turned on. You worked late that day, but not so late that Mingyu would've gone to sleep already. The apartment is eerily quiet, devoid of the usual warmth and liveliness. Toeing off your shoes and putting away your outerwear in their rightful places, you start to wonder if he's not home. He usually texts you when he gets home, but you haven't received any messages.

Concern etches between your brows as you walk further into the apartment. The kitchen is spotless, with no pots or pans on the stove—not that you always expect Mingyu to cook, but he had told you earlier today that he'd have something ready for you when you got home. You open the fridge, finding it just as you left it this morning. The absence of any signs of recent activity deepens your worry.

As you pass the bathroom by the guest room, you flick on the lights, casting a warm glow to see the path to your shared bedroom. By the ajar door, you notice a piece of fabric slumped together on the floor. Picking it up, you realize it's Mingyu's jacket. You drape it over your arm and continue to the bedroom, your heart pounding with unease.

He's not there, but you see that the light in your bathroom is on, a soft glow seeping through the cracks in the door. You place his jacket on the edge of the bed before approaching the bathroom door, only to find it locked.

You knock softly, pressing your ear against the door. "Mingyu, I'm home... are you okay?"

"I'm okay, baby," he replies, but his voice is thick with tears. "Sorry, I didn't have time to make you dinner... I think there's some leftovers from yesterday."

"Please, open the door." Ignoring his suggestion about dinner, you grab the door handle. "I can hear that you're not okay."

You hear him sigh, and his footsteps approach the door. Stepping back, you wait as the door swings open. The first thing you see is his bloodshot eyes and red nose. He sniffles and looks away, trying to hide his vulnerability.

"I'm..." He hesitates, torn between lying and being honest.

Before he can decide, you engulf him in a hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso. "Oh, baby..."

The dam breaks as a sob bubbles up Mingyu's throat, a raw, heart-wrenching sound that shatters the silence. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot tears streaming down his cheeks and soaking into your shirt. You can feel the wet warmth of his tears spreading, a tangible sign of his anguish.

You rub his back soothingly, your hand moving in slow, comforting circles. Each sob wracks his body, causing his shoulders to tremble violently. His fingers clutch at your shirt, holding on as if he might drown without this anchor.

Minutes pass, each one heavy with his sorrow, until finally, his sobs begin to subside. His shoulders stop shaking, and his breathing slowly evens out, though occasional hiccups still break through. Only then do you loosen your embrace, though you don't fully let go. Instead, you gently take his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that cling to his skin. His eyes are red and swollen, filled with a mixture of lingering sadness and gratitude.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you ask softly.

"...can I tell you later? I'll start crying again if I tell you now." He lets out a choked laugh, trying to relieve the tension, but your frown remains.

"Okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

You gently wipe away Mingyu’s tears, your thumb brushing over his cheeks with tender care. His skin is warm and damp, his eyes still glistening with the remnants of his sorrow. Your touch is gentle and reassuring as you guide him to change into more comfortable clothes. You help him out of his work attire, unbuttoning his shirt with careful fingers, and replacing it with a soft, worn-in t-shirt that brings him comfort. Each movement is deliberate, designed to soothe and calm him. You then help him into a pair of loose, cozy sweatpants, ensuring he's enveloped in softness and warmth.

Once he’s settled, you guide him to the couch in the living room, your arm around his waist, supporting his slow and heavy movements. The weight of his exhaustion is impossible to miss, his shoulders slumped and his steps dragging. He collapses onto the couch with a weary sigh, sinking into the cushions as if they might absorb some of his burden.

You start to leave for the kitchen, intending to get him something to eat or drink, but he grabs your hand. His grip is firm yet desperate, his fingers curling around yours with a silent plea for you to stay.

You turn back to him, your heart aching at the sight of his vulnerable expression. Mingyu looks up at you, his eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and need. "Don't leave," he whispers.

"I'm going to heat up some leftovers," you explain. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

Mingyu shakes his head no and lets go of your hand. You feel his eyes on you as you walk around the kitchen, quickly putting something together. It's not fancy, and it's nothing like what he usually makes you, but it's enough for the two of you right now.

When you return to his side, you give him his bowl before settling down next to him. You eat in silence, letting Mingyu sit as close to you as he pleases. When you're done, you take the dishes to the kitchen. Although you want him to sit still and rest, he follows you—his arms wrapped around your waist the entire time.

It's hard to move around, but you don't complain. Soon enough, the dishes are done and you're back on the couch. Mingyu has his arms wrapped tightly around you as you lay on top of him.

"Thank you," he mutters.

"You don't have to thank me." You lean up to look him in the eye. "Me taking care of you is your boyfriend privilege."

He smiles and presses a chaste kiss on your lips before closing his eyes. The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch on accident. But your stiff body is worth it when you get to see Mingyu smiling at you the next morning.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 7. A shoulder to nap on

On the flight back home from a much-needed vacation, Mingyu booked the two of you first-class seats. It was partly because he loves spoiling you, but also so you could sleep comfortably on the way home. The plush seats and extra legroom were a perfect idea, promising a restful journey, but right now, that comfort feels like a far-off dream.

The flight was delayed by a few hours, leaving you and Mingyu stuck at the gate. The airport buzzes with the quiet hum of late-night travelers, the occasional announcement crackling over the PA system. The two of you sit in the lounge, surrounded by weary passengers slumped in their chairs, eyes glazed with fatigue. The smell of coffee and cleaning agents lingers in the air, mingling with the soft rustle of newspapers and the muted clatter of luggage wheels.

Mingyu tries to make the best of the situation, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the weariness. "Just a little longer," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Despite the delay, his presence is a comforting anchor in the sea of exhaustion, his voice a soft murmur that calms your racing thoughts.

You glance at the clock, the minutes ticking by slowly. The soft lighting of the lounge casts a warm glow, but it does little to chase away the tiredness settling into your bones. Mingyu's fingers trace soothing patterns on your arm, his touch gentle and reassuring, each stroke a silent promise of love and comfort.

"I can't wait to be home in my bed," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with exhaustion.

Mingyu leans his head on your shoulder, his soft hair brushing against your cheek as he closes his eyes with a contented sigh. The weight and warmth of his head against your shoulder provide an unexpected comfort, grounding you in the moment. "This is enough for me," he says softly, his breath warm and reassuring against your skin.

"My shoulder?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice, feeling the vibration of his chuckle through the closeness.

"Yes," he replies, his tone earnest and affectionate. His closeness feels intimate and safe, a bubble of tranquility amidst the chaos of the airport.

"And why should I let you have my shoulder?" you tease, a smile tugging at your lips as you relish the closeness.

"Boyfriend privileges," he replies matter-of-factly, his lips brushing against your neck as he speaks. The slight pressure of his lips against your skin sends a wave of warmth through you.

You sigh, a mixture of amusement and tenderness filling your heart. The playful banter and the sincere love in his voice make your heart swell. You tilt your head to rest against his, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The world around you fades into a comforting blur, the distant chatter of the airport and the mechanical hum of the environment becoming mere background noise.

For a moment, it's just the two of you, wrapped in each other's warmth and love. His presence is a cocoon of safety and affection, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax fully in his embrace. The gentle rhythm of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart, and the soft, warm pressure of his head against yours create a symphony of comfort that lulls you into a peaceful state.

Your peace is soon interrupted, however. Finally, the boarding announcement crackles through the speakers, breaking the heavy silence of anticipation and sparking a collective sigh of relief that ripples through the gate area. The weariness of the long wait begins to lift as passengers gather their belongings. Mingyu helps you gather your things, his hand never leaving yours as you make your way to the boarding line. His touch is a reassuring anchor, grounding you amidst the bustling crowd.

"Almost there," Mingyu whispers, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank goodness," you reply, offering him a tired smile.

The atmosphere shifts as you step onto the jet bridge, a mix of excitement and fatigue hanging in the air. The cool, conditioned air of the plane greets you as you board, offering a welcome contrast to the stuffy terminal. The flight attendants greet you with warm smiles, guiding you toward the plush sanctuary of first class.

Settling into your spacious seats, the world outside begins to fade away. The soft cushions envelop you in comfort, and the generous legroom allows you to stretch out and relax. Mingyu stows your carry-ons in the overhead compartment with ease, his movements fluid and practiced.

As he sits down beside you, the overhead lights cast a gentle glow. "This is so much better," you murmur.

Mingyu smiles, reaching over to adjust your blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness that melts your heart. "I told you it would be worth the wait," he says softly, his eyes filled with affection.

You can't help but smile at the thought of curling up next to him, the hum of the plane's engines a soothing backdrop. "You always know how to spoil me," you whisper, leaning into his touch.

"It's my favorite thing to do," he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Besides, you deserve it."

As the plane takes off, you lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. The world outside the window shrinks to a distant blur, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace.

"Thank you, Gyu," you murmur, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

"For what?" he asks, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"For everything. For this. For you," you whisper, your words trailing off as sleep begins to claim you.

"Always," he replies softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. "Sleep well, my love."

Wrapped in the comfort of his love and care, you drift off, the promise of restful sleep finally within reach. The gentle touch of his fingers lulls you into a peaceful slumber

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 8. Lunch boxes

When someone called out for lunchtime, the members collectively let out a big sigh of relief. With tired limbs, they make their way to the cafeteria. While everyone else lines up to buy something, Mingyu heads straight to the fridge and retrieves a carefully prepared meal. He sits down at a table, placing the metal box with a wooden lid in front of him. A pink, stretchy band adorned with tiny red strawberries holds the spoon in place. His face lights up with a smile as he spots the small note on the lid.

Hope practice is going well! I know you're working hard, so please enjoy your lunch and eat well! Can't wait for you to come home♡(>ᴗ•)

Mingyu carefully folds the pink post-it and tucks it into his phone case, a cherished reminder of your thoughtfulness. By then, people have started sitting down beside him, their eyes subtly glancing at the box in front of him. Nobody says anything—they already know what it is—until he opens it.

Inside the box is a beautifully arranged Korean lunchbox. The main compartment holds perfectly steamed white rice, topped with a sprinkling of black sesame seeds. Nestled beside it is a portion of crispy fried chicken, golden brown and glistening with a light coating of sweet and spicy sauce. The other sections are filled with a variety of colorful banchan: neatly sliced kimchi, lightly seasoned spinach, sweet and tangy pickled radish, and tender strips of stir-fried beef bulgogi. There’s even a small section of rolled omelette, its yellow hue bright and inviting.

The delicious aroma wafts up, drawing envious glances from his fellow members. The savory scent of fried chicken and the tangy hint of kimchi fill the air, making everyone's mouths water.

"Did Y/N make you another lunchbox?" Seokmin asks, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, they were working from home yesterday, so they had some extra time on their hands," Mingyu replies, a small smile playing on his lips as he inspects the beautifully arranged food.

"It's not fair that only you get homemade lunches from Y/N!" Seungkwan whines, his tone a mix of genuine envy and playful teasing.

Mingyu responds by sticking his tongue out at Seungkwan, making the younger man groan in exasperation. "Boyfriend privileges," Mingyu states proudly, his grin widening.

As he digs in, Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, savoring the flavors and the love that went into preparing his meal. The meat is perfectly seasoned, the rice fluffy, and the banchan vibrant and flavorful. Each bite is a reminder of your care and effort, making the meal taste even better. The members watch with a mix of admiration and envy as Mingyu enjoys his lunch.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 9. Bath buddy

As you walk the last bit to the door of your apartment building, you notice a figure in the distance. A tall man, vaguely boyfriend-shaped, waving both of his arms over his head with enthusiasm. Your heart skips a beat, and your smile matches Mingyu's as you break into a run, closing the gap between you. He’s sweaty from the gym, his skin glistening in the fading light, but you don’t mind. You launch yourself into his embrace, pressing yourself as close as possible, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of his body.

"Are you trying to squeeze me to death?" he asks jokingly, his voice vibrating against your ear.

You loosen your grip slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. "You have no idea how much I've missed you today."

Instead of teasing you, Mingyu gently pats your head, his fingers threading through your hair with a comforting touch. He sees the weariness in your eyes and the way your hair seems to stick out in all the wrong places, evidence of a long, hard day. "Bad day, hun?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

The moment he speaks, you feel your guard drop completely. Your lips naturally fall into a pout, and your hands grip the material of his shirt a little tighter. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the exhaustion you feel. Mingyu coos at you softly, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering for a moment, offering silent comfort. He then guides you to the door, his hand resting on the small of your back, a steadying presence.

"Do you want to take a bath with me?" he asks as he opens the door for you, his voice gentle and soothing.

"Okay," you murmur.

Once inside, the apartment feels like a sanctuary, the chaos of the outside world fading away as the door clicks shut behind you. The familiar scent of home, mingled with Mingyu's comforting presence, immediately begins to soothe your frazzled nerves. He leads you to the bathroom, his touch a constant, reassuring anchor as he guides you down the softly lit hallway. The gentle hum of the apartment envelops you, creating a cocoon of tranquility.

In the bathroom, Mingyu starts running the bath, the sound of water filling the room like a calming symphony. You watch as he carefully adds your favorite bath salts, the granules dissolving into the warm water and releasing a soothing aroma. The scent of lavender and chamomile fills the air, creating a spa-like atmosphere that begins to unwind the knots of tension coiled within you.

Mingyu helps you undress with tender, loving movements, his touch feather-light yet filled with purpose. His fingers trace the contours of your body with a delicate touch, each gesture a silent reassurance of his love and care. The way his hands glide over your skin, unhurried and gentle, sends a wave of warmth through you, dispelling the day’s weariness.

He sheds his own clothes with practiced ease, the fabric slipping off his toned frame effortlessly. The sight of his familiar form, strong and comforting, brings a sense of security and warmth. His skin, slightly glistening from the exertion of the day, catches the soft light, highlighting the lines of his muscles and the contours of his body. There's a serene beauty in the way he moves, each action unhurried and filled with quiet confidence.

Stepping into the bath first, Mingyu eases himself into the steaming water with a sigh of contentment, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the water. He settles into the tub, the water enveloping him like a warm embrace. His eyes, inviting and filled with affection, lock onto yours as he extends his hand towards you. The look in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent invitation wrapped in love and intimacy.

You take his hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip as he helps you into the tub. The water envelops you in a gentle embrace, its warmth soothing your tired muscles. You settle between his legs, leaning back against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby against your back.

As you relax into his embrace, Mingyu's arms wrap around you, holding you close. His hands begin to gently massage your shoulders, his fingers working out the knots of tension with skillful precision. The sensation is both relaxing and intimate, his touch a balm to your weary soul. You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment, feeling the stress of the day melt away under his tender ministrations.

The soft glow of the bathroom light casts a golden hue over everything, enhancing the sense of intimacy and warmth. Shadows dance along the walls, creating a serene and almost magical ambiance. The only sounds are the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional sigh of contentment from both of you.

"I love you," you whisper, your voice soft and content.

"I love you too," he replies, his lips brushing against your ear.

You stay like that for a while, the water lapping gently around you, the only sounds the occasional drip from the faucet and the steady rhythm of Mingyu's breathing. It’s a perfect moment of peace and connection, wrapped in the comfort and love that only he can provide.

After a few minutes, Mingyu shifts slightly behind you, his movements gentle yet purposeful. "Can you wash my hair?" he asks softly, his voice laced with a boyish charm that makes your heart flutter.

You smile, turning slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his. "Of course," you reply, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hands you the shampoo, and you pour a generous amount into your palm. Mingyu dips his head back into the water, wetting his hair thoroughly before leaning forward to give you better access. The rich, lathering scent of his shampoo fills the air, mingling with the soothing aromas of the bath salts, creating a calming symphony of fragrances.

Your fingers work through his hair, massaging his scalp with gentle, circular motions. The silky strands slip through your fingers, and you take your time, ensuring each section of his hair is coated with the fragrant lather. Mingyu lets out a contented sigh, his eyes closing as he leans into your touch, his body visibly relaxing under your ministrations.

"This feels amazing," he murmurs, his voice a low, relaxed hum that sends shivers down your spine.

You smile, continuing your careful work. "You deserve it," you say softly. "It's your boyfriend privilege, isn't it?"

Mingyu chuckles, the sound a soft, comforting vibration against your chest. Before he can respond, you pick up the shower head, adjusting the temperature before gently rinsing out the shampoo. Tilting his head back with a gentle hand, you let the warm water cascade through his hair, washing away the suds and leaving his hair clean and soft.

He leans back against you once more, his hair damp and silky against your skin. His eyes are half-lidded with contentment, a serene smile playing on his lips. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and affection.

"Anytime," you reply, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment create a cocoon around you, shutting out the rest of the world. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, a steady, reassuring rhythm that syncs with your own. Mingyu's hands rest gently on your arms, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as you both bask in the tranquility of the bath.

The two of you stay like that, cocooned in warmth, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a golden hue over everything. The sounds of the water and your synchronized breathing create a peaceful ambiance.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ 10. Tie-fixer

You were already in your pajamas, nestled comfortably in bed with your book, when Mingyu walked in, still dressed in his suit but without his tie. The crisp white shirt accentuated his broad shoulders, and the slight dishevelment of his attire made him look irresistibly charming. His hair was slightly tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, adding to his effortlessly handsome appearance. He didn't have to say anything; the moment your eyes met his, you were already putting your book to the side and swinging your legs out of bed, the anticipation of helping him a welcome routine.

"Where's your tie?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice, tilting your head slightly.

Mingyu pulls the piece of fabric from his pocket and hands it to you, a weary yet appreciative smile playing on his lips. The tie is cool and smooth in your hands, its silk gliding between your fingers. Rising to your feet, you step close to him, your fingers deftly slipping the tie around his neck. The familiar action feels intimate, almost like a ritual between the two of you, a small moment of connection in your busy lives.

As you slowly begin to tie it, your fingers working methodically, you glance up at him. "How long is the event?" you ask, your voice soft and caring, eyes meeting his with genuine concern.

"I probably won't be home until after two," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of his long night ahead settles in. The lines of fatigue on his face tug at your heart.

"It's okay. I want you to have fun," you murmur, focusing on the tie but feeling the sincerity of your words. "I'll be busy with dinner and my book anyway."

Mingyu watches you, his eyes softening as he takes in your familiar, comforting presence. "I wish you could come with me," he says quietly, his hands gently resting on your hips as you finish tying the knot. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent promise of his affection.

You tighten the tie and smooth it down, patting his chest gently. "You know I'd love to, but someone's got to hold down the fort here," you reply jokingly, your smile warm and reassuring.

He chuckles, the sound deep and rich, resonating in the quiet of the room. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and love.

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a warm embrace. "Let's not find out," you whisper, your cheek pressed against his, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours.

Mingyu hugs you tightly, savoring the closeness, the scent of his cologne mingling with the comforting smell of home. When he finally pulls back, he looks down at you with a mix of love and reluctance. "I really should go," he says, though he doesn't make a move to leave just yet.

"I know," you reply, your fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it back into place. "You'll be amazing, as always."

"Mm, especially with such a well-tied tie," he smiles playfully at you, his eyes twinkling with affection. "I'm so lucky for my boyfriend privilege."

You chuckle softly, resting your hands on his chest. "Yes, you're very privileged," you tease. "Just remember that when you're out there charming everyone."

Mingyu grins, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. "How could I forget? My number one fan is waiting for me at home."

You roll your eyes, but your smile is fond. "Just don't let it go to your head."

He laughs, the sound warm and rich. "No promises... I'll miss you," he says, his voice softening as he cups your face in his hands.

"I'll miss you too," you reply, covering his hands with yours.

He gives you one last lingering kiss, his lips warm and tender against yours, a promise of his return. "I'll try to be back as soon as I can," he promises, his voice filled with genuine affection, his hand squeezing yours gently.

"I'll be waiting," you say softly, watching as he finally turns to leave, the door clicking shut behind him. The room feels a little emptier without him, but you return to bed, your book waiting patiently. For a moment, you just sit there, feeling the lingering warmth of his presence and the subtle ache of his absence, already looking forward to his return.

ଘ(੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ... 11?

The winter chill had settled in, but the warmth of Valentine's Day wrapped the city in a blanket of love and excitement. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of snow, mingling with the fragrance of roses that seemed to bloom on every corner. Everywhere you looked, couples were bundled up in cozy scarves and gloves, holding hands, sharing tender smiles, and exchanging sweet nothings. The city streets were transformed into a romantic wonderland, with heart-shaped lights casting a soft, warm glow on the cobblestone paths, creating a dreamy ambiance that made everything feel just a little more magical.

Mingyu had planned the entire day with meticulous care, wanting to make every moment special for you. The day began with the gentle sound of his voice waking you, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, holding a tray with breakfast in bed—fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, topped with fresh berries, and a steaming cup of your favorite coffee. The sweet aroma filled the room, and as you shared the meal, you couldn't help but smile at how perfectly the day had started.

The afternoon was spent strolling through the city, the two of you arm in arm as you visited all your favorite spots. The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the holiday, but for you, time seemed to slow down, every moment stretching into something memorable. You laughed over shared memories, pointing out familiar landmarks and reliving inside jokes that only the two of you understood. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but it was no match for the warmth of Mingyu's hand holding yours, or the way his laughter seemed to melt the chill away.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the city, Mingyu surprised you with dinner at the restaurant where you’d had your first date. The sight of the familiar entrance made your heart skip a beat, and when you stepped inside, the ambiance was perfect—low lights that cast a gentle glow over the intimate setting, soft music playing in the background, and a table tucked away in a quiet corner just for the two of you. Mingyu looked absolutely perfect, the flickering candlelight highlighting his features, making his eyes sparkle with a warmth that mirrored the love in your heart.

He was wearing the turtleneck you had gotten him last December, the deep burgundy color standing out beautifully under his sleek black coat. The sight of him, so effortlessly handsome, made you fall in love with him all over again.

The dinner was delicious, every bite savored as you reminisced about that first date and how far you'd come since then. But as the evening went on, you noticed a certain tension in Mingyu—a subtle shift in his demeanor. He was attentive as always, but his hand gripped yours just a little tighter, and his eyes, though filled with affection, seemed to hold something more—an emotion he hadn’t yet put into words.

When dessert was finished and the check was paid, Mingyu suggested a walk through the park. The idea seemed simple, but there was something in his tone that made your heart flutter with anticipation. The park was beautifully decorated for the holiday, with twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the trees and heart-shaped lanterns swaying gently from the branches. The path was dusted with a light layer of snow, which crunched softly underfoot as you walked side by side, the sound mingling with the distant laughter of other couples enjoying the night.

The cold nipped at your nose, but Mingyu’s presence kept you warm. He walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours with every step, and as you made your way deeper into the park, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet he had become. His hand, warm and reassuring in yours, was steady, but there was a nervous energy beneath the surface, a sense of something important hanging in the air between you.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the world around you gradually fading into the background as you simply enjoyed being together. The park was peaceful, the night air crisp and clear, with the soft crunch of snow underfoot being the only sound between you. The distant twinkle of lights reflected off the lake's surface, casting a serene, almost magical glow over the scene. The sky above was an expanse of deep navy, dotted with stars that peeked out from behind the clouds, adding to the romantic atmosphere.

As you approached a secluded bench near the lake, Mingyu began to slow down, his footsteps becoming more deliberate. His breath was visible in the cold air, curling upward in soft, white puffs. The quietude around you seemed to intensify, amplifying the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Mingyu stopped walking and turned to face you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights strung up in the trees, making them look like they were sparkling with unshed emotions.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost tender, as he pulled you closer. Without waiting for your response, he wrapped his coat around you, his touch protective and warm.

"Not with you here," you replied with a smile, leaning into his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours. But as you looked up at him, you noticed something different, a subtle tension in his expression. "... you're unusually quiet tonight. Is everything okay?"

Mingyu smiled, though there was a trace of nervousness in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. "There's something I've been wanting to say all day," he began, his tone serious but laced with affection, each word carefully chosen. "Valentine's Day is all about celebrating love, right?"

You nodded, curiosity piqued, your gaze never leaving his. "Right..."

He took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs before he released it slowly, his hands still holding yours, their warmth grounding you both. His expression softened, and the affection in his eyes deepened, becoming almost palpable. "Well, I wanted to celebrate us... You know how I've always said I'm lucky to have boyfriend privileges?" His lips curled into a small, playful smile, the familiar phrase bringing a rush of warmth to your chest. It was an inside joke that had grown between you, a phrase that had come to symbolize the depth of his love.

You laughed lightly, nodding, your heart fluttering. "You've mentioned it a time or two."

"Well," he continued, the playful edge in his voice giving way to something more serious, more profound. His grip on your hands tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself for what he was about to say. "I've been thinking a lot about what that really means. About how much I love you, and how my life has been so much better with you in it. I don't just want boyfriend privileges anymore. I want... something more."

The air around you seemed to still, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. Mingyu's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you found yourself holding your breath, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"Mingyu... what are you saying?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you searched his eyes, hoping for confirmation of what you suspected.

"... I want husband privileges," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. The words tumbled out like a secret he had been holding close to his heart, and as they settled between you, the weight of them was almost overwhelming.

Your heart skipped a beat as his words sank in, sending a rush of emotion through your entire being. Before you could fully process what was happening, Mingyu reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. The deep burgundy of the box stood out against the black fabric of his coat, catching the faint light from the lanterns around you. Your breath caught in your throat as he dropped to one knee, the world around you dissolving into a blur. The soft glow of the lights reflected in his eyes, making them shine with a love so intense it took your breath away.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, each word laced with raw emotion. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life loving you, taking care of you, and being your forever? I want to be your husband, not just today, not just tomorrow, but every day for the rest of our lives."

The sincerity in his voice, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held the ring, and the sheer vulnerability in his gaze made tears well up in your eyes. Your hand flew to your mouth in disbelief, your heart pounding in your chest as the magnitude of the moment hit you. The world seemed to stop, the night holding its breath as you looked down at him, his expression filled with hope, love, and adoration.

"Mingyu," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion, each word carrying the weight of your love for him. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you!"

The tension in his shoulders melted away as his face broke into the widest smile, relief and joy flooding his features. His eyes sparkled with happiness as he carefully slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and reverent. The ring was perfect—simple, elegant, and exactly what you would have chosen. It glimmered softly in the light, a tangible symbol of the promise you had just made to each other.

Without hesitation, Mingyu stood up, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you off your feet. He spun you around in a joyful whirl, the cold air forgotten as you both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet park. The night seemed to come alive with your happiness, the trees around you swaying gently as if to share in your joy.

When he finally set you down, his arms remained around you, pulling you into a kiss. His hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently brushing against your cheeks, his touch warm and steady. The tenderness in his grip made your heart swell, and as he leaned in, you could feel his breath mingling with yours, a soft, shared anticipation hanging in the air. When his lips finally met yours, it was as if time itself slowed. The kiss was soft at first, a delicate, reverent connection that conveyed everything words couldn’t.

But then, it deepened, his lips moving against yours with a slow, purposeful intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Each movement was deliberate, filled with a passion that burned through you, igniting every nerve. His kiss wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a promise, a vow sealed with every ounce of emotion he had been holding back. You could feel his love in the way his hands held you, not too tight, but firm enough that you knew he never wanted to let go.

As his lips molded perfectly against yours, the rest of the world faded into oblivion. The cold night air, the distant sounds of the city, even the twinkling lights around you—all of it dissolved into the background, leaving only the warmth of his kiss, the rapid beat of your heart, and the overwhelming flood of emotion between you. It was as if the two of you existed in your own universe, a moment suspended in time where nothing else mattered.

"I love you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with reverence and devotion, as if the words were sacred.

Tears still glistening in your eyes, you smiled up at him, your heart bursting with happiness. "I love you too, Mingyu. I hope you're ready for all the husband privileges."

He laughed, the sound rich and full of joy, resonating with the happiness that radiated from him. It was a laugh that spoke of a future filled with love, laughter, and countless more moments like this. He pulled you into another embrace, his arms holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "This is the best Valentine’s Day of my life," he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion.

"It’s just the beginning, baby," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as you looked up at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every line that spoke of his love for you.

The two of you stood there in the park, wrapped in each other’s arms as the lights twinkled around you, the cold air nipping at your cheeks but failing to penetrate the warmth that enveloped you both. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that felt like it would last forever.

As you walked back home, hand in hand, the silence between you was filled with contentment and the unspoken promises of what was to come. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger. The excitement of what lay ahead filled you with warmth, and as you leaned into Mingyu, you knew that your life together would be filled with endless love, laughter, and, of course, husband privileges.

feedback is always welcomed!

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[magerightsmagefights]

I know people tend to forget Wyll a lot in this fandom (I wonder why. What Could Possibly Be Different. Can you spot the difference?/s) but I'm genuinely surprised at the lack of Durge x Wyll content. Especially if you're going Redeemed, there's that inherent flavor of "My lover cannot know the truth, I am horrible and they would hate me, they would be correct to hate me." And with Wyll it's just... so juicy, he's so pure and shining, and Durge is so filled with filth and misery that there's barely a person left underneath.

Idk, as a femme romance reader I've spent so many years reading the "love redeems" arc where a FMC plays beauty to an MMC beast, in every genre, medium, budget, etc. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but beauty and the beast as a story structure has never done it for me.

until it's reversed, apparently, because Wyll as the beauty to Durge's beast needs to be injected directly into my veins like yesterday. All the other companions are good and sweet, don't get me wrong, but their reactions are coded like 'i accept you,' where Wyll to me comes off much more as 'we will heal you.' He doesn't have any funny little quips about you trying to bite him, no innuendos, no "I Will Put You Down" a la Laezel, he's just... so good, and he believes in your inherent goodness, he so easily sees "you" and "your urges" as wholly seperate entities he would step between if he could.

Speaking of which!! The coronation scene, when everyone finds out you're Bhaalspawn? I never see anyone talking about Wyll's reaction compared to other companions getting angry (even Dark Shadowheart will yell at you) because Wyll seems to be the ONLY PERSON who immediately separates you(the person he knows) from you(the person you used to be). Astarion isn't angry, he even appreciates your scheme freeing him from Cazador, but he also kinda falls into the whole "I will talk to you as if you are the exact same person who did these things, this is Your True Nature and I feel positive about it."

Wyll's reaction feels like the only one saying "You WERE that," instead of "You ARE that." It also feels like the only one that kinda-sorta acknowledges Durge's actual amnesia, because he doesn't treat this revelation like a betrayal the way the other "good" companions do. They be saying "The real evil was hiding within our ranks all along" like wym hiding? Durge didn't know either, how tf they supposed to tell you?

Wyll doesn't even blink. Once he knows what you are, his No.1 priority is reassuring YOU about it. The fact you're Bhaalspawn isn't a betrayal; it's a Horrible Burden and he's sorry you have to bear it, but there have been others like you who were good, who overcame, and your blood isn't who you are. His first instinct is to offer hope, to reassure you that there's a way out, he believes so hard that your urges are a defeatable enemy and he's ready to fight them with you.

(I also fall into the Durge And Gortash Fucked camp, and I cannot overstate the tastiness of Durge waltzing into the coronation of their ex, the Worst Man Alive, while bringing along their new boyfriend, the Best Man Alive)

Idk, I've just never engaged in a romance where I played the part of the Beast. As much as people rag on pure, princely archetypes, I don't actually see them that often. I genuinely don't remember the last time I read/saw a male lead behave like Wyll, but I've seen plenty of Astarions, Fenrises, Rhysands, etc. Romance loves a fixable MMC, but so rarely an MMC who wants to do the fixing.

Anyway. Justice for Wyll or whatever. I can only cross my fingers that future DLC will include more romance content, because we all deserve to have a Beauty for our Beast sometimes.

[moonstruckme]

not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it. 

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups. 

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.” 

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage. 

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.” 

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach. 

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you. 

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.” 

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy. 

“I know,” you say. 

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary. 

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble. 

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.” 

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?” 

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.” 

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin. 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.” 

[satoruwiki]

Naoya nsfw and sfw relationship headcanons pleeeaasse . He's a terribly guilty pleasure and not many people write him (probably because he's a toxic sh*t)

omg anon you’re so right bc who would want an absolute toxic misogynistic fuck of a man (me, i do/j) i was supposed to post this yesterday but i forgor, sorry! btw i may or may not be working a second version of the atrocious fic i did a few days ago abt him… if its of anybody’s interest…

͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏ ♡₊˚ Naoya is the type of man to…𓈒 ˚ ⟡

content: jjk headcanons; half sfw/half nsfw; afab!reader; glimpse of the horrors you’d be going through as his partner lol

n/a: i’m making more content for naoya than my glorious blue eyed king lmao ;-;

these are my hcs! feel free to agree or disagree :b any request/interaction supporting this post is very much appreciated <3

sfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… spoil you rotten. Not because you deserve it—maybe you do—but because one of Naoya’s biggest weaknesses is his pride and reputation, and yours affects his. He can’t have his gf/fiancée/wife wearing low-quality or average clothing, you have to look worthy of him (at least on the outside). So he will gift you kimonos made with the finest fabric and the finest accessories to pair with. If you’re smart enough, you might be able to take advantage of that and manipulate him to buy you whatever you want, but you better be kissing the soil he walks on afterwards.

Naoya is the type of man to… be overprotective and ridiculously jealous. You won’t be able to go out by yourself. Not without him being there or at least one of his servants, what if another man tries to have a conversation with you? What if you flirt back? He doesn’t trust you or anyone but himself. He has to make sure you aren’t fooling around. Besides, you’re so weak—or at least that’s what he thinks—you need someone to protect you. What if someone disrespects you? He can’t let that slide, the only one allowed to treat you poorly is him.

Naoya is the type of man to… secretly like your praises. He won’t tell you, of course, but he does like having someone recognizing his strength—the main reason he’s so protective of you, trying to look like a knight in shining armour—and how great he is on his day-to-day basis. He will be pissed whenever you get mad at him and don’t praise him. He won’t say it directly nor apologize for whatever he did, but you might find an ‘apology’ gift on your side of the bed. If it’s a mistake you did—which to him is always going to be your fault—an easy way to get him to be in a better mood is stroking his ego with lots of praise.

Naoya is the type of man to… expect you to be the perfect wife. Naoya is a very demanding man, he expects nothing but perfection. He expects you to always look pretty, cook, and clean, like your typical traditional wife. Being a conservative man, he will expect you to not speak when gathering with the other clansmen—or outside in general—unless you’re allowed to. It’s for your good, he’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.

Naoya is the type of man to… only marry you for benefits. In matters of love, he is quite unfeeling, however, to maintain his position as the head of the Hei, he must get married and have offspring. This burden, as he would call it, is likely to be done through an arranged marriage. Just because you were chosen over the other bachelorettes doesn't necessarily mean you're at the same level as him—you will always be below him, and perhaps unworthy of him to his eyes—but you're definitely better than the rest, or at least you were the prettiest one. You might be of use to him.

nsfw ver! ୨ৎ

Naoya is the type of man to… degrade the hell out of you. Naoya’s degradation IS NOT for the weak. If he already treats you relatively poorly daily, it gets worse when he fucks you. He’s also going to fuck you rough, so don’t even try to ask him to go slower, he won’t comply. Don’t worry though, he might make sure that you cum (even to the point of overstimulating you) as it boosts up his ego, it makes him think he’s so good he can have his partner squirting for him and begging for more—this is only when he's in a good mood though, otherwise, he couldn't care less if you cum or not.

Naoya is the type of man to… head push you on purpose for you to gag on his dick. He likes the messy and filthy look on your tear streaked face and drool running down your chin, it makes him want to shoot his load on you (which he will).

Naoya is the type of man to… slap you, during or outside sex. Naoya is very ill-tempered, he’s prone to get physical and slap you (just look at how he used to bully maki and mai) or have angry sex with you. Whether it was your fault or someone else’s, he’ll blow off some steam fucking you stupid, and expect you to have bruises frequently.

Naoya is the type of man to… punish you while fucking. Like I said before, Naoya is very prone to angry sex and will punish you as he fucks you. Expect lots of choking, spitting, clit and face slapping and probably your ass bruised as well as your scalp, he wont take in consideration of his strength and yank it hard.

Naoya is the type of man to… use you as his cum dumpster. He doesn’t care if you’re in the mood or not, that’s what you’re there for, basically. He just got back from a meeting with the clansmen and he’s stressed? Get on your knees and suck him off. He's mad? Bend over or spread your legs. You better not object or make any sort of complaint, just take it like a good girl. Chances are that you end up pregnant (because he’s the type to forbid you from using birth control), he hopes it's a boy or he’s gonna blame it on you. (even if he’s the one responsible for the baby’s gender but ok)

Naoya is the type of man to… have a feet kink. I literally have no explanation for this one, just look at his face and tell me he does not have a thing for feet 😭

[ozzgin]

May I ask, what are each of the yokai harems love languages?

Featuring the six demons and their ways of showing love! Content: gender neutral reader, fluff

[Main Story] | [Character Guide] | [More Headcanons]

Murasaki will mostly show his love through acts of service. He may seem standoffish and cold, but he will always take care of you. If you get sick, he’ll huff and puff about humans being weak and pathetic, all while spoon feeding you some intricate soup he carefully cooked for hours to make sure you get back on your feet; then he'll adjust your pillow with a frustrated sigh, and occasionally check that you’re properly tucked in (with a frown).

In return, I think he’d greatly appreciate words of affirmation. He’d never show it, but he will absolutely blush to himself hours later because you brought up how helpful or smart he is. W-well, obviously. Who else is going to look after you as well as him? Hmph.

Kiritsubo is all about physical touch. He loves feeling your warmth and hearing your heartbeat, to the point you sometimes have to physically remove him off of you. Forget asking for a jacket if it’s cold, he’ll just attach himself to you.

Besides returning his affections, he will absolutely adore the occasional praise. Watch him power up in real time just because you told him he’s doing a good job. He’ll turn to you in the middle of the fight just to ask, “did you really mean it?”, and then continue slaying his foes with a goofy smile on his face. You really did mean it, huh.

Suma enjoys hanging out with you. In fact, it's the highlight of his day. There's nothing better than returning from his training and seeing your little human face. Even better if you happened to join him for a quick practice. Additionally, he's a very touchy demon, but he is painfully aware of the colossal difference in strength and size. Just one brief moment of him getting too comfortable, and you may end up with a broken bone. Sorry, he was really looking forward to that hug.

Unlike the other yokai, Suma doesn't care much for praise. On the other hand, he'll be extremely grateful if you're the one initiating intimacy. This way he doesn't have to worry about accidentally hurting you, and - something he'd never openly admit - he finds your struggles quite endearing. Having to stand on your toes to reach for a mere hug, holding his finger with your entire hand...precious.

Yuugiri has two ways of showing he cares: physical touch and words of affirmation. He's painfully observant and thus particularly skilled at saying the right thing. If you're having a bad day, he will immediately know the cause of your troubles. Within moments, he'll have you on his lap, stroking your hair and soothing you with compliments. "Of course I'm right, (Y/N). No one knows you better than me."

When it comes to himself - you guessed it - Yuugiri will never say no to some praise. Normally he's rather indifferent to sweet words, finding them plain and boring. Anyone else complimenting his looks in ample detail, and he'll grimace in irritation. But it's enough for you to casually remark his kimono has a nice pattern, and he'll be twirling his hair like a maiden all day long. "My, you think so? Maybe I should wear this style more often, huh?"

Sekiya does his best to be useful: bringing you a cup of tea after a long day of exorcising spirits, or massaging your shoulders to release some tension. You sometimes have to remind the anxious demon that he doesn't need to be a servant to earn your affections. Ideally, there would be a lot of physical touch involved, but he often hesitates, clouded by the fear of annoying you too much.

Therefore, any kind of intimate gesture is enough to get his tail wagging. Pair it up with a little praise, and he'll be dizzy with delight. Sekiya loves being acknowledged by you. He'd probably risk his life in a heartbeat just for a headpat from his one and only Master. The poor yokai worships the ground you walk on.

Sakaki loves spending quality time with you, especially if it’s away from everyone else. Whether you’re painting together, or taking a quiet stroll through some graveyard, know he will be having a blast - despite his gloomy expression. Additionally, he enjoys bringing you little gifts that remind him of you. Although his tokens of adoration can be a little…unconventional. Last time it was a polished rodent skull he found in the forest, because it reminded him of your fragile, yet eternal bond.

One quick way to soften him up is by praising his art and poetry; he will immediately crumble into theatrical confessions, declaring that no one else truly understands him like you do. You're his forever muse, his reason to await the next coming day.

[little-miss-fandom-freak]

Honestly, could i have the reader talking with Eric (Creature Commandos) and like, basically telling him that maybe the reason why he's been chasing after bride for 200 years is because she was 'made' for him and he's too scared that if he let's her go he won't find love anywhere else and that he needs to apply himself elsewhere?

sorry if it would be OOC, but I have had this thought in my head for days now and I need to do something about it

also, thank you for all your content, I really appreciate it

I actually LOVE this idea. Look I am a certified Eric hater but I'm a suckered for a good redemption arc. Little note; for the sake of the plot, the reader has the ability to teleport themself and others.

Also that last little bit really tugged at my heart strings a little bit, I'm so glad you like them 🥹

It happened again.

Eric found Bride and is trying to "rekindle their love"; which for some reason, meant extreme violence and brute force. Luckily, you were there to help Bride in her battle against him.

"Why must you fight this, my bride?!" He yelled with anguish as the two if you tried to make a quick escape. Eric had launched himself twords Bride, and he would've gotten a hold of her if it weren't for you quick movements. Eric had grabbed you instead, and in a split second the two of you were gone.

When the two of you arrived at wherever ir was you sent yourself to, Eric threw you off of him.

"What? Where am I? Where is my-"

"ERIC!" You yelled. The silence afterward was deafening. You sighed as you back hit the wall. Sliding down and holding your head in your hands, you looked up at the man. "Do you ever get tired of all this?"

"Tried of what?!" He stopped his foot. 'He's no better than a toddler.' You thought.

"Of chasing after a woman who clearly has no intrest in you!" You snapped.

He scoffed and crossed his arms. "She is very much interested in me! This little game of cat and mouse is all just foreplay for her."

You cringed at his words. "I feel like if she's done nothing but run from you since the day she was created, maybe its a sign thar she doesn't like you."

"But-but she was made for me!" He groaned. "She made to be my bride!"

"Do you not see how terrible that sounds?!" You asked, raising your voice. "Her entire identity is tied to you. She hasn't had a moment of peace, because of you! You have to see how insane you look; chasing after a woman who - despite being made to be with you - DOESNT WANT TO BE WITH YOU!" You sighed. "Why do you keep chasing her?"

Eric just stared at you in disbelief. "Be-Because.... I...." He didn't really know. He slowly made his way twords you, sliding down to the spot next to you. "If the woman who was made to love me, doesn't even love me... then... then will anyone ever will? Am I that unloveable?"

You felt bad now. You couldn't image how he felt; chasing after the same woman for 200 years, one that he was promised would love him, just for her to hate his guts and fight him on sight. What he's been doing still isn't right, but he wasn't given a chance to grow.

Sighing, you placed your hand on his knee. "There's a common phrase for times like this. 'How can you learn to love another, if you can't love yourself'. Maybe that's what you need, a chance to focus on yourself before you find a partner."

"But I've dedicated my entire life to being with her... how am I supposed to just forget about her?"

"You don't have to forget about her, maybe just try redirecting your attention." You thought for a moment. "First, I think you need a friend."

"Ah yes, like Richard Flag!" He said cheerfully.

"Um, maybe not him." You said carefully.

Eric frowned, looking back at his boots in thought. "What about you?"

"Me?" You were taken back by his statement. "Why me?"

"Well, based on the movies and television shows I have seen over the years; a friend is someone who helps you with your woman troubles, and makes you feel better about yourself after a breakup. I have technically broken up with my Bride, and you were here helping me. Is that not what a friends is?"

You weren't quiet sure, in all honesty you only broight him here to give Brude a chancr to get away. But the more you thought about it, the less it seemed like a bad idea. "Okay, sure. I'll be your friend."

A wide smile grew on his face. "Oh how wonderful! We will be like Joey and Pheobe from the television show Friends! Have you see it?"

"I have." You said with a little chuckle. You watched as Eric began to describe his favorite moment between the two characters, but you couldn't help but internally hope that your words actually stuck with him. To you, Eric wasn't a horrible man. He was simply a child trapped in a man's body, a child who wasn't given a chance to learn or grow.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆��

I hope you enjoyed this and if you have anything you would like me to personally respond to, message me or put it in my ask box because as of right now, Tumblr won't let me respond to comments :)

[kiyo-cant-write]

vil schoenheit with an otaku s/o

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I felt like we needed something on this blog with my bias, Vil. So I took it upon myself to write something.

This comes from my love of pairing otakus and nerds with ultra-glamorous people. Vil/Idia is also something I enjoy, but as this blog is catered to reader-insert content, have this.

If anyone has any Vil requests I may prioritize them....

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Summary: [Name] is the s/o of Vil Schoenheit and an otaku who challenges the shut-in Ignihyde Housewarden for his title. They have a fixation on games and often find themselves obsessed with them. What does Vil think of this?

TW/CW: None

Notes: established relationship, they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is implied to be Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, the reader is younger than Vil (lightly implied), explicitly post B5

Guest Stars: Rook Hunt. Neige LeBlanche (implied/referenced), Idia Shroud (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Vil Schoenheit

Vil wasn't always so open to dating someone who obsesses over fiction and 2D media to this degree.

Idia always irked him a bit, but maybe it was the tablet.

Honestly, he still doesn't really understand.

Vil Schoenheit is the commodity, not the consumer.

He respects his s/o for their dedication, though.

The only criticisms he has are if they do not take care of themselves properly (like neglecting food or sleep for games).

Vil has come to know random things about whatever anime or game his s/o likes and picks up special items when opportunities arise at work, albeit without drawing attention to it publicly.

What Vil wasn't prepared for was [Name]'s friendship with Rook.

It's a blessing and a curse to be in their presence.

He's thrilled they get along... but once they start yapping... it never ends and is typically about Vil himself or worse Neige LeBlanche.

Vil often pretends that he doesn't hear those chats.

He finds the praise from his s/o nice, though.

He's relieved they aren't one of his creeper fans.

Be assured that he did some interrogating early on for safety.

Vil appreciates that they live outside the spotlight.

It means that he can be "normal" with them.

It's nice to just be "Vil" and not some mega-star.

Vil values that even though they love his work, they also love him as a person, the Vil that the rest of the world isn't privy to.

Vil grimaced at the sight of his darling partner who was buried in blankets on the couch trying to "grind" for an "SSR" in some game about idols. He didn't pretend to understand such concepts but he was certainly watching it happen before him: [Name] was ignoring the world for games.

He sighed but he knew he chose this.

[Name] gave that tablet-wielding Idia Shroud a run for his title, surely. They were a shut-in as any otaku was, keeping their darling face away from view and covered by baggy clothing. They took poor care of themselves when "banners" were yielding?

That was what got on Vil's nerves the most. The utter disregard for their health in favor of fictional men and digital items.

"[Name]," Vil said, trying to get his beloved's attention.

They did not answer.

That's alright, they probably did not hear him.

"[Name]," he repeated a bit more urgently.

They remained focused on their screen, unaware of the person standing beside their cozy setup. Vil wasn't sure if he was offended or not. The housewarden sighed before using the only trick he had up his sleeve at the moment.

"[Full Name]."

"HUH?!?"

[Name] whipped around like they had heard gunshots and were faced with the radiant beauty of their boyfriend.

Oh! It was Vil!

"Sorry, Vil," [Name] offered, looking down for a moment to ensure that the story was paused, "I guess I wasn't paying attention."

"And that," Vil told them, "is a crime in and of itself, I look lovely today and you should appreciate all beauty that graces your eyes."

Vil smiled, posing in a way that made it seem natural. A hand on his hip asserted that Vil held the power in this room, even when it was not his dorm. Pomefiore's housewarden was too charismatic for words sometimes.

"You know, dear, like Rook always says and does..." Vil continued, pausing for a moment at the thought of his vice housewarden, "Though maybe not so enthusiastically as him."

"I love you so much, V, but I also have so many pulls I need to do to get this SSR," [Name] told Vil, tapping into the next part of the event they were working on, "This. is. why. I. exist. And Idia put the support card I told... begged him to."

[Name] had ventured to Ignihyde the other day, Ortho accompanying them, to beg the Game Master to put his level 105 maxed stat card for support. It was a terrifying journey that incurred the wrath of the heavens (Idia screamed in such a shrill voice that he nearly gave [Name] tinnitus) but it was worth it. The Game Master ceded and the support for the battle was won! Huzzah!

"I can see that this means a lot if you cried to Shroud about it, but you... " Vil trailed off until he noticed a familiar bag by the side of the couch, "I'm sorry, darling, do you have a guest?"

"Eh, do I have a guest?" [Name] asked Vil.

With that, Vil was about to launch into another lecture about how they should watch their house and remember if people were present, but he was cut off by the entry of one (1) Rook Hunt wearing something he would be skinned for if he were at Pomefiore with his hair tangled as if he fell asleep half smothered into something, hair and all. Vil could believe his eyes, but he didn't want to.

"Do I even want to know?" Vil asked him.

Rook raised his hands in a shrug that felt a tad passive-aggressive.

"I'm not going to ask then, neither of you has the answer that keeps my sanity alive," Vil said, sighing as he closed his eyes to avoid questioning his vice housewarden.

"We're doing this for you, Roi du Poison!" Rook told him.

"In what world does this game have anything to do with me?"

Vil was floored by the implication that he was familiar with one of these idol-ish games. He had worked on them once or twice, sure, but that was hardly the same as being a fan, a player.

"I thought this as well, but [Name] explained it to me!"

And... Rook was enthused. Yay. Time for theatrics.

"Rook, I'm not in the mood for theatrics, try to be concise."

"Of course, My Queen!"

"Rook-senpai did you make food?" [Name] asked him, cutting into the conversation.

"It is cooking now!" Rook assured with a (slightly scary) smile.

"I thought you..." Vil trailed off once more, it wasn't worth it.

Rook was here, he wasn't. [Name] knew, they didn't. At least Epel wasn't also here trying to get muscular at a dangerous speed (again). In the end, the hunter had agreed to cease his shenanigans, but there were sure to be more theatrics and tomfoolery ahead. It might seem impossible, but Vil could sense it.

"Do you two wish to tell me what has you so involved in this game? And how in all of this Twisted Wonderland it pertains to me?" the housewarden asked after a moment sitting down on the Ramshackle couch after a moment of deliberation and joining his vice housewarden and the love of his young life.

"It has everything to do with you!" [Name] told him, managing to tap away at the rhythm game while speaking which Vil would never admit impressed him, "I'm doing this because I love you.... and the cards. But mostly for you, V!"

"It's about your honor, Beautiful Vil!" Rook added.

About his honor? How was this about his honor?

Vil sighed as he turned to Rook. His hair was still a nest on his head, one fit for a bird. His golden hair color aided that appearance.

"I really wish you would fix your hair, Rook..."

Rook shook his head, expression saddening if only for a moment.

"Non, non. There is no time for it when your honor is at stake!"

And... Yeah, there's no stopping Rook now. Vil admitted to that defeat as much as it pained him, a couple of years of friendship had taught him not to... Well, to be crude, not to fuck with that.

"Yeah!!" [Name] agreed, "We need to focus on this. And... Win!"

Oh, good. Lovely. His lover was also not backing down.

Vil sighed as he leaned closer to [Name], a show of his own tiredness that he seemed to neglect the wrinkles to his clothing that could form. His face close to theirs, he watched their game, skimming the dialogue of the stylized men on the screen and trying to parse through why the player seemed to have a hoard of 167 men at their disposal while also being a 17-year-old orphan with dead famous parents who left them a company in their will.

Maybe I should have paid more attention when Idia tried to explain his visual novel collection to me...

Vil continued to watch, slowly feeling himself grow just a tad invested in the story. He cursed it, wanting to say he was above falling for the media he seldom worked in... And here he was, wondering what the MC was going to do now that one of the beautiful young men had been kidnapped by some kind of underground association of famous men. He was still a bit unclear about that last part.

"This is why, V," [Name] told him, tapping the arrow on the screen to reveal a character Vil had not seen in the section [Name] was reading.

They were tall blond with deep blue eyes wearing a shimmering gown and extremely high heels.

Vil looked back to [Name].

"Everyone is saying this character is the in-game equivalent of you," they told him, "So I wanted to help them... win against..."

A voice echoed from Rook's phone that sounded eerily similar to a certain raven-haired boy's voice. But it wasn't, Vil was certain of it. There was a certain energy to Neige's voice that this person did not have, a kind of sweetness that made Vil's stomach churn a bit.

"The you-coded guy is going to be my strongest card and he will win in the polls! Rook and I will make sure of it!" [Name] told Vil, "Also if he does lose I still have to do a favor for Idia-senpai so I really don't wanna lose."

The fact that [Name] was willing to go to such lengths for his apparent honor was heartwarming to Vil if not a tad silly. Since the events of the competition, Vil had rethought some of his prior-made statements, but it seemed that [Name] and Rook both wanted to assure him of his worth and that was... sweet, honestly. A little weird considering they chose an anime game to do so, but sweet nonetheless.

He smiled at [Name], pressing a kiss to their cheek.

"Thank you, my love," he told them before looking over at Rook, "And you as well, I suppose, Rook."

"...Might this lessen the pain I caused at the VDC?" Rook asked.

"I'm no longer angry but perhaps," Vil told the hunter.

"And it was all my idea!" [Name] cheered, glowing with pride.

"Oui, your shared love is most radiant~" Rook practically sang, pausing his rhythm game (he has a full combo and SS rank) to stand and gesture boldly to Vil and [Name].

"I know, it's why I love them so much," Vil mused.

Yes, having a significant other with differing interests had perks, sometimes. Vil had to admit that every once in a while, [Names] hobby was cute, on them anyway... Vil wasn't so sure he could handle it if they came to school as a tablet like Idia.

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[dabis-azure-songstress]

could you do headcanons for dabi who’s with a s/o that is a really kind and giving individual. he didn’t like it at first and he thought his s/o being so kind to people who were less fortunate like the homeless was a bad thing but he starts to pick up on their behavior and his s/o catches him doing something nice for something and they both realize he’s started to pick up after his s/o

Ooo, yes, absolutely! I feel like I can relate to this very well. I can already imagine all the things he'll say. I'm sorry this took so long. I've been trying to focus and take a bit better care of myself than I have been, especially with the carpal tunnel. I hope all of you will enjoy these anyway. I feel so bad about not posting here or on my A03. Thank you so much for your request! Please enjoy this, Dabi Goddesses!

Pairing: Dabi w/ S/O that is really kind and giving

Headcanons or one-shot? Headcanons with a small written scenario

Rating: SFW! Warning though! Dabi is sweet at the end and may steal your heart.

"You know they're just going to take advantage of you, don't you? You really need to set boundaries, doll."

At first, it really bothers him how kind and selfless you are and also maybe even makes him a little jealous.

And, he can sound very harsh and occasionally really hurt your feelings sometimes with things he says when he nags you about it, but he really means well.

He really doesn't want to see anyone hurt you or take advantage of you. EVER.

"You really are too kind for your own good. It's going to cause you a lot of trouble one of these days."

"You're such a pushover. You couldn't even tell someone, "No" even if you wanted to."

When he sees he hurts your feelings or upsets you, he does feel bad after, however. Believe me.

After a while though, he really grows to admire you and appreciate you.

After all, it takes a lot of courage to keep being yourself and being selfless, even if sometimes you do get hurt in the process.

You do eventually learn to set some healthier boundaries that Dabi takes note of, and he's proud of you, but he also grows to love how sweet you are.

Eventually, you both don't realize you've rubbed off and made him "softer" a little bit.

One day, you are out of the apartment when you hear a child crying. At first, you think Dabi may have said something rude without meaning to, and upset them, but a glance at the scrapes and blood on their knees proves otherwise. Dabi has kneeled down before them carefully.

"Did you go and hurt yourself there, little bit?"

The little one looks up at him with red and puffy eyes, still rubbing at them, and nods meekly.

"First, I need you to get up...C'mon. You can do it."

Dabi reaches out a hand gingerly and helps the young one to their feet carefully as you watch.

"Wanna see something cool to distract you from the pain a little bit? I'm gonna have Y/N go get you some band-aids and ointment."

Another nod in agreement. Dabi takes in a deep breath and carefully kneels back down to the child's height before he holds out a hand and gently alights a small cerulean flame ablaze in his palm. He glances at you carefully.

When you come back with the band-aids and medicine, you notice the child's laughter filling the air. The child is now fully seated on his lap with him carefully juggling the fire around them.

-----

Now bandaged up and much more dry-eyed and content, the mother soon arrives. It turns out the little one had gotten separated in the rush hour of people. She's surprised to see Dabi entertaining her child so well, despite his looks, but offers him a gentle smile and thanks you both softly as she gathers the little one into her arms.

As they're walking away, Dabi just casts his eyes over you.

"Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" you smile.

"THAT. Stop it."

You giggle softly at him.

"...Maybe it's not so bad."

"Hm?"

"Maybe it's not so bad being just like you...every once in a while."

You can only smile in return as he grabs your hand and interlaces your fingers.

[miguel-owhora]

Lowkey we need more Bill Williamson content… 🙏

CW—sub!bill , big boy appreciation , mutual masturbation , frottage? i think idk im too lazy 2 check, implied established relationship , no beta we die like sean

hnmghfjfjffj. honestly ooc bill but only bc idk how to write him that well (yet) anyways just a small drabble

"Come on, Bill, you can handle another round, can't you?" You mutter into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, his musk, how his beard tickled your face. You have him pinned against a bed of grass, no doubt flattened by his mutual weight. There's a certain appreciation of having another big man as your partner; a big, strong man who can handle your weight, who won't be easily crushed.

You're straddling his lap, his waist, whatever, your meaty thighs squeezing him on both sides. You have both your pants pulled down, cocks grasped between your hand as you pumped them with your fist, cocks jutting together with every jerk of your hips and every twitch of Bill's.

Bill who groans underneath you, flustered across the face, panting into the cool air that night often brings. It's one of the only times you're both allowed to sneak away from camp, to indulge in each other without having to disturb anyone from your less than lawful activities. Not that anyone cares—well, at the end of the day, that is. There's more to worrying about than who their gangmates are sleeping with.

A sharp inhale from Bill snaps you from your thoughts. You glance down, refocusing on him when you realize your fingers have been rubbing over his swollen cockhead, playing with his slit, no doubt driving his sensitivity up the walls.

While Bill doesn't say anything, he gives you a pleading look, not wanting to admit how sensitive he is. Your fingers slip from his cockhead, flattening your palms on his belly and kneading it the way you've seen stray cats do. Instead, you lean down and kiss him.

"Sorry," You mutter against his lips, knowing your apology gets accepted when he kisses you back. You feel his hands lay on your back; heavy, large, you know how they feel squeezing and fondling you all over.

"You think you can go another round, boy?" You ask, once you pull away, muttering against his lips. You give him the option to tap out, to end this. It takes the other man a moment but he nods, and with slight embarrassment, says,

"Can you jus'-" He clears his throat, bashful, embarrassed, but you preen at his willingness to push through and tell you what he wants. "-go... slow?"

"Course, course, of course, boy," You hum, kissing him again, just to seal the deal. Bill kisses you back, more eagerly this time, and you kiss him harder to swallow the small gasp when your hand wraps around his cock again.

[xxsycamore]

Ok third one. I'm way too enthusiastic for this sorry💀

Napo + masturbation

what if i told you i have a fic about this in my drafts that is only written up to the actual masturbation part but i kind of scrapped it because i made him too lonely to the part where it looked sad just straight-up lonely and jorking it HAHAH i messed up the vibe and it needs reworking and i hate doing that ! but maybe someday.

Napoleon + masturbation

I'd say Napoleon isn't much of the regular jerking-off type. Although he listens and caters to his body's needs - he sleeps to his heart's content without much care, he cooks his own food whenever he feels like it, eats crepes to his heart's content, takes mind-clearing rides at any time he needs them. He's still getting used to having so much time for himself in his hands. He might find himself rushing to get done with his shower and have a sudden realization like wait, I can rub one out, I'm not hurrying for anywhere.

Would he take things slow and enjoy himself? Probably. I think he has those lazy moods where he'd be all in for edging himself and exploring sexual fantasies, but at the same time, he's also someone who can't sit still for longer periods of time. We know he finds quite a lot of activities to keep himself busy with, from helping with the chores at the mansion (tending to the stables too) to teaching kids at his and Isaac's école, to (probably daily) fencing exercises with Jean, to giving bodyguard gigs at balls. So I think he keeps the balance with being lazy in the mornings, claiming some time to appreciate this luxury that he now has. He's grumpy, being woken up by some resident who nudges his shoulder and then takes five steps back to shield themselves from his kissing habits. They shout something at him and leave, and Napoleon now has to fight the urge of going back to sleep, on his own.

A healthy young man such as him, it won't be surprising if his cock is awake long before sleep releases its grip on his mind... it makes him restless as he turns on his back, clicking his tongue at no one in particular, sleepy jade eyes opening to stare at the ceiling... soon his hand travels south to give his cock a firm tug, groaning at the contact. He releases his hold immediately though, letting it spring back against the skin of his belly. He's too sleepy to jerk off, too horny to go back to sleep. By the way yeah, I think he's in the habit of sleeping naked (there was one event story where MC entered his room while he was asleep and was all like "Why are you naked!" - maybe she refers to just his upper body though?) so it makes it easier for him to have a spontaneous morning jerking off. After a bit he turns on his side again, and the covers are grazing past his rock-hard cock juuust in the right way, so he rolls his hips lazily once, and then twice, and it suddenly becomes a real problem. So he says fuck it and pushes off the covers, loosely wrapping his fist around the head of his cock and fucking into it. He doesn't think of anyone in particular, just a nice warm mouth wrapped around his girth, cheeks hollowed out and tongue held out as he thrusts his hips into the willing warm and soft cavern. It's not long before he's cumming in his hand, letting out a satisfied moan and running the fingers of his other hand through his hair to move it out of his forehead, body temperature high and naked chest heaving. A nice cold shower is going to feel amazing for him afterward. The residents might think he becomes a different person once he's past his grumpy wake-up stage but they don't know the secret behind his content little smile.

He also jerks off after his sparring sessions, when the adrenaline is still racing in his blood and the hormones heighten his libido.

Reading erotica is not beyond him either, though he might have an issue with it being too far from what gets him going, with how modest yet dramatic it sounds. He'd enjoy pornographic material that is both deeply intimate and dirty at the same time.

So how does it change for him after he starts dating you? His sex drive is probably skyrocketing, and you can't be available to take care of his morning erections all the time so of course he still has to deal with it himself once in a while. It becomes more interesting now though, because the risk of someone re-entering his room because "are you STILL sleeping, Napoleon?" becomes a dangerously alluring chance of making you catch him, "accidentally". Though he's not without shame. If he expects you to walk on him, if he has that sort of control, it would be very turning-on for him. If he doesn't - if he's caught red-handed with a pair of your underwear or another item of yours... he's going to be embarrassed about it. Frowning, blushing, the sexy ridge of his eyebrows knit together when he's so obviously worked up by it, yet trying to be nonchalant... you should tease him about it. About not being able to wait until he has you later in the day or about being crazy for your scent, about how he must be wishing for your touch that would be able to get him off so, so much faster...

5/10 "Fine, I was touching myself to the thought of you. Are you just going to stand there and watch how hopeless I am? I didn't think you were so coldhearted. Come here... at least let me breathe the air around you. I'll be over with this before you know it, so... indulge me, won't you?"

-> (ALWAYS OPEN) send me a kink & I’ll give you a headcanon and rating for Napoleon!

🦶foot fetish 🥵breeding kink 🥕pregging 😈dom/sub 🍈breast kink ⛓bondage 🩸period kink 👄marking 🐺predator/prey 🏙public sex 🤗praise kink 👅 cunnilingus 🍌blowjobs (receiving) 🚪getting caught

[mlbfemslashfebruary]

You don’t deserve my loyalty kopycat101 you don’t deserve any of it fuckyeahladybug and what ever other names you use you don’t deserve. I will warn as many people that I can that none of you show who you truly are and are not real lesbians. Not real lesbians. Liars. You do t see it. Toy don’t deserve my loyalty and you will not get until it is too late what I have done for you and will keep going about. You are not real lesbians kopycat101 fuckyeahladybug kopycat101 fuckyeahladybug and I can prove it all to warn people as many as possible

I turned on anon asks in good faith when this event started to see if anyone had questions about the event itself.

Anon, what you're doing is unhealthy. Spamming asks, stalking blogs, and accusing blogs with zero basis.

First: no one has to be a lesbian to write f/f fics!

I myself, the runner of this event, am not a lesbian. But I believe in the need for more f/f content in this fandom because of the lack of femslash in fandom spaces in general!

Secondly, fuckyeahladybug and kopycat101 are not the same person. It's easy to tell if you sat down and looked at either blogs MLB tag. Fuckyeahladybug does MLB fan content for f/f m/m and het couples. Kopycat101 writes only marcnath and Femslash February content. Their pronouns also don't match up either.

Third, I don't appreciate you attacking creators who are spending their free time creating content for this blog's event. The ask you sent with a list accusing and condemning all those people is baseless harassment!

Fourth, you don't need call me a coward for not being stuck to my phone and answering every anon message you send the instant you send it. Insulting me doesn't make you the good guy here!

I'm restricting anon messages again.

Final note: I'm sorry to anyone else that's getting harassing anons because of participation in this event.

Extra apologies for those that are lesbians and are being sent nasty accusations and harassment.

Please stay kind to others, and stay miraculous.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 24

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Two in a row?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The dullness of the home renovation show does little to combat your fatigue. You watch the drilling and trimming and plastering from behind a glossy curtain, yawning and swaying against Andy. You really just want to go lay down but you don't have the courage to insist on it.

Your eyes roll back only for you to snap your head forward, forcing yourself awake. Several times you feel yourself start to slump to one side. You don't know how much longer you can stay awake.

You feel the air in your nose clog and a rumble in your throat. You're too far gone to catch yourself as you succumb to your exhaustion. You sink into the fuzzy abyss, welcoming the rest for your mind and body.

You sleep without thought, without dreams, or worries. The deep blackness that blurs time and space, the very concept of your existence fading into the void. You forget everything for the dulcet comfort of unconsciousness.

You feel something on your arm. A long, soft caress. It's almost soothing, so subtle and gentle that you're not sure it's real. You moan and sniff through your dry nose.

"Amber?" You murmur, "I'll get up in a minute."

The hand squeezes and you curl your shoulders forward. You're too tired. You just want to sleep forever. You murmur as the touch descends to your elbow and the hand slips down to your stomach, spreading there.

It is much too big to be Amber. And why would she be in the bed with you? Against you? You feel the warmth radiating along your back.

You open your eyes as you're drawn into a stolid embrace. You look down and see the freckled arm around you. Oh. What do you do?

You feel his breath behind your ear, fanning up your scalp. You've never been this close to anyone. Especially a man.

"Andy," you squeak. "Andy…" you grab his wrist as your chest squeezes with panic. He needs to let you go!

"Hmph," he grumbles groggily.

You don't care if he's sleeping. He's touching you. He's got you trapped! You don't like this. You need to get away.

You need to sleep on your own. You need space. You need to be alone!

"Andy!" You squeal and dig your nails in as he hugs you tighter, "get off!"

You writhe as your voice piques. You flail as he keeps a hold of you. He shifts but doesn't let you go. You throw your elbow up and twist around, the impact cracking hard as you're released at once. 

You hit the floor as Andy grips his cheek and grunts. You gasp as you realise what you've done. Oh no! You never meant to hurt him.

"Ow," he hides his face behind his hand, "dove…"

"I'm s-sorry," you stutter, dizzily getting your feet under you, "I didn't mean to–"

You step forward as he peeks out between his fingers. The hurt in his eyes gives you pause and you wince. Oh god! 

"S-s-sorry!" You clap your hands against your cheeks and spin, "I'm sorry! Please! Don't be mad–"

You run without looking, without thinking. You hit the edge of the couch as you race frantically out of the room. You stumble up the stairs, not looking back as you fear he might be after you. That you may have just pushed him too far. But you deserve it, don't you? You hit him first.

You burst into the guest room and scramble to lock the handle. There is no mechanism. Shaky and terrified, you get on the other side of the dresser and push it with your shoulder. It scrapes over the floor until you have it across the door.

You slide down and curl yourself into a ball on the other side, heart beating wildly. No, no, no. Stay out. Stay out!

You can hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and his barely repressed groans. There's a tap on the other side of the door before the handle turns and the dresser lurches but doesn't give. You whimper and cover your head.

You remember the way the chair leg smacked against your head, how the blows came down over and over, on every part of you. You remember how it left your breaths rattly and your bones screaming. You remember how Amber held you and told you it would be okay.

Where is she? You want her there to promise you that you're safe. You left her behind. 

"Dove, please, let me in," Andy says from the other side.

You don't say a word. You gulp as tears spring up. You don't want to remember. Stop!

"Dove, please, I'm not mad," there's friction on the door, "let's talk. What happened?"

You shake your head and ball yourself up tighter.

"Why did you hit me?" He lowers his voice.

You let out a sob. You don't know why. You didn't mean to. It never matters what you meant, it only matters that you're wrong.

"Dove," his voice rises again, "you can't just close me out."

You have no answer for him as you tremble in a heap, trapped between the past and present, paralysed for what's to come. 

"Aren't you going to apologize?" He scoffs.

You have no words, no strength, you have nothing but fear. 

He hits the door and you yelp, "Dove! Answer me." He snarls, "this is my house."

But he touched you. He was touching you! No, how can you be wrong? If he was touching you?

You're confused. It was an accident and yet you feel guilty. But Amber always says you should protect yourself. So why do you feel so rotten?

He huffs and clucks, "I can wait."

You open your eyes and slow drag your arms down, folding them across your chest. You wait and listen. He doesn't retreat right away, no he lurks outside and for a moment you think he's going to stay there until you come out. When at last his footfalls pad away, you're not relieved.

Eventually, you're going to have to leave that room. 

🕊️

Eventually comes in the form of your throbbing bladder. You stand at the door, facing the inevitable, dreading the outside. You shift the dresser inch by inch, trying not to make a noise. You move it only enough to fit through the door.

You peek into the hallway and hold your breath. The evening has come and the house is dark. You creep out, hoping you've gone unheard. You've always been good at being unnoticed.

Until Andy.

You tiptoe over the carpet and glance down towards his door. Your chest twinges with guilt. You hope he's okay. You can only feel the force of your elbow hitting him. You can hear the impact repeating in your head.

You quickly flit into the bathroom and shut the door. You flip the lock up and stand in the dim space. You don't bother with the light switch as you do what you need to and turn the faucet on only halfway to wash your hands.

You take a breath as you face the door. Just a few steps across and you can hide away. You ease it open little by little and let it fall ajar as you see the shadow waiting for you outside. Andy reaches over to flip the overhead light on.

You chew your lip as your eyes sparkle with a sudden wash of tears. You teeter on your toes as the white bulb shines through the glass sconce and illuminates the darkening blemish under his right eye. You did that.

"Andy..." you eke out.

He looks at you, tight-lipped, his own eyes glistening. He takes a deep breath that makes his chest rise and fall. His jaw grits and cheek twitches. He puts his hands on his hips.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I told you..." you blubber.

He shows his palm, raising his hand as he drops his chin. A long exhale before he lifts his head again. He lets his shoulders fall.

"We need to talk," he says.

"I... know," you hang your head in defeat.

He gestures down the hall and you offer no resistance. You walk ahead of him, keeping your posture low, wanting to shield your head as you expect the worst. He points you down the stairs and follows your descent.

You enter the dining room at his direction and you sit at the table. He pulls out the chair across from you and lowers himself with a sigh. He pushes his hands up his cheeks and winces, leaning his weight on his elbows against the table.

"You hit me," he says staunchly.

You stare at the table, wilting as you bring your feet up onto the seat and hug your legs. You nod.

"I said sorry--"

"Dove," he intones, "you hurt me. And as much as I want an apology, I want it to mean something. I want you to understand what you're apologising for."

"I am so sorry," you bluster as you snap your head up, "really, Andy. I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean to. I would never-- I'm not a mean person."

"You didn't mean to but you did."

"I was confused. You were so close and--"

"You fell asleep. I was keeping you from falling off the couch," he hisses.

"Oh, uh, well, I... I didn't realise--"

"You keep making these excuses. I didn't want to... I didn't want to believe it but I spoke with Dr. Kemp while you were... hiding," he rolls his eyes, "and he agrees with me."

"What?" You heave, nearly choking on tears, "about what?"

"About you. About you're behaviour," he puts his hands down, folding them over the table. You watch the effort he puts into his next words, "about Amber. I didn't want to think about it, to possibly admit it but... she isn't the problem, honey."

"What does that mean?" You wipe your nose, "Andy, what are you saying?"

"Look at me, Dove," he leans in, emphasizing the blotch under his eye, "look what you did."

"But-- but--"

"You take. Everything. People around you give and give and give and they get nothing in return. It's exactly what you did to her. Dove, I want you to get help, but you have to realise, you're not a burden, you're a leech."

You lean back, chest heavy as it hollows shakily. You can barely breath. Why is he saying this?

"No, no, I'm not--"

"You are. You're not stupid so give it up. You know exactly what you've been doing," he insists. His tone is even and hard but not angry. "I know you're not stupid because you know how I feel about you. And you push me away and make me feel like the villain. I'm the bad guy because I love you? Because you made me feel something and I let myself feel it--"

"Love? Feel? Wh-what?"

"Stop pretending you don't know," he snaps, "dove, you just keep hurting me. Look at everything I've done for you. Why would I do all of this if I didn't love you?"

"You love me?" You croak.

"I do and look what you did to me," he waves his hand at his face, "you did this but I'm not going to give up on you."

You bury your face in your hands and cry. Every word is like a knife slicing through you. They always say the truth hurts the most.

"Dr. Kemp is going to help you. He's going to help both of us work through this--"

"I don't understand," you say through your fingers.

"I know you don't, so you need to trust me," he reaches across the table as you open your eyes and tear your hands away from your face, "I can forgive you, this one time. And that's because I love you. Because it would hurt more to let you go."

You shake your head and clutch at your hair, "no, no, no... I never... I didn't mean to hurt you..." you babble, "Andy," you gasp and hit the edge of the table with your hands, "do you mean I hurt Amber?"

He looks down and swallows tightly, "honey, you know what you did. You know it. You have to accept it if you're going to change."

You shudder as the world seems to shrink around you. You really are just as bad as you always thought. All those years in your little bubble, with Amber lying to you, telling you that you're not a monster. She took your abuse and you took everything from her. How could you be so horrible and not even know it?

"I... didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I didn't... mean to," you chant through thick sobs, "no, I didn't mean to..."

"Shhh, dove," he stands and you make yourself even small in the chair.

You wince as he rounds the table and kneels beside you. He hushes you as he touches your arm, rubbing it gently as he coos at you. You quiet to a hiccuping heave and look at him.

"Are you going to try?" He asks.

You nod and gulp loudly.

"That's good, sweetie," he praises and reaches up to caress your cheek, "Dr. Kemp is going to see us tomorrow and we can do this together."

"Us? Both?" You murmur in confusion as he runs his fingers back down your arm and takes your hand.

"Couples therapy," he explains, "we have to work on our communication."

"Couple... what?" You squint at him, lashes fluttering.

"Come on, dove," he stands and pulls you to your feet, "I told you how I feel, are you going to keep hurting me by pretending you don't feel the same?"

Your lip trembles. Do you feel the same? You don't know. You've never really known. You're just afraid and lost and confused. You don't want to be a bad person.

"You feel bad, don't you? For hitting me?" He asks and you nod, a sob wrenching in your chest, "and you feel bad why?"

You search his face, only looking in his eyes for a second before you can stand no more. You look at his neck and the tendons there, the way it bobs nervously, and the tension set into his shoulders. Your lips part and you puff out a shaky breath.

"Because... I love you?" You squeak the uneven statement through your quivering lips.

"You do but and that means it's going to be okay," he draws you into a hug and you don't fight it. You can't fight something you don't understand, "isn't it, dove?"

[irkimatsu]

why can't I stop writing, I'm in love, I'm sorry

Husk/Reader, Husk brings Reader on a date, confessions are made, sappy sappy sappy

---

Husk is planning a very special date with you tonight. You've been on plenty of dates together, but that's all been things like drinks at dive bars and simple walks through the park. Tonight, he wants to go all out for you. You deserve it. He tells you to wear your nicest outfit, "though you'll look great no matter what you wear, doll", and to leave all planning and financial concerns to him. Just let him spoil you for a night.

He hasn't told you yet, but there's something he wants to talk to you about, and he can't say it unless he can get the mood perfect.

He shows up at your hotel room door in his nicest suit, and is immediately stunned by your own choice of outfit. "...you look great." Despite his earlier assurance that you always look great, he seems genuinely taken aback. The evening starts at a high-end steakhouse, where Husk tells you to order whatever you want with no concern for the price. You can have drinks or dessert if you want; it's all on him! You appreciate his generosity, although of course you don't want to take advantage of him. (Perhaps part of him still believes that careless spending is the best way he has of impressing anyone...) He then takes you to a live jazz show, where the two of you dance into the late hours of the night. You have a great time together, but soon the crowd becomes a bit much, and you both need fresh air. So, you decide to step outside to an outside eating area. There are plenty of tables, but none of them are taken, giving you some level of privacy here. You can still faintly hear the music from the club, and as a slow song begins, he wraps his arm around your waist and takes your hand.

"I wish the sky here wasn't so awful, and that it wasn't so damn humid," he says. "I wanna dance with you under the moon, in a cool breeze."

That romantic side of him never truly died. Maybe you realized that about him before he did.

"I'm still enjoying it," you assure him as you let him lead you in a slow dance. His eyes are transfixed on you the whole time, enraptured... and maybe a little nervous?

A love song that Husk knows well begins to play. You can barely hear the singer in the club, but you don't need to; Husk is happy to sing it for you, his smooth voice singing every word and note effortlessly, as if it's a song he's sung so many times before. He used to be a performer, so maybe he has. You lean your head against his chest as he serenades you, decades of practice bringing him to one of the most important songs he'll ever sing in his life.

The song ends, but Husk doesn't start singing the next one, even though you're sure he knows this one as well. He's content to keep swaying with you, and you're content to keep listening to his heart.

"Hey... doll?" he says. "I gotta... I gotta tell you something."

You look up at him again, and see that his eyes are completely dilated; in wonder, or in fear?

"I... I like..." He swallows. "I want... fuck. It's... been a long time since I've had to do this. I... can I kiss you?"

Does he even need to ask? He's kissed you so many times before, and you've always welcomed it. Well, at least he's a gentleman who respects your boundaries whether it's the first or hundredth time; it's one of the many things you've come to adore about him. You nod, and he kisses you. It's not a particularly deep kiss, with no use of tongue, but it lingers, as if he can't bear to pull away. He cradles your face in his paws and gently brushes his claws over your cheeks.

He murmurs something during a brief break in the kiss, and before you can comprehend it, his mouth is on yours again. As he keeps kissing you, your brain finally catches up to your ears.

"...I love you."

You'd say it back, but that would mean pulling away from the kiss. Instead, you respond by combing your fingers through the fur on the back of his head and pulling his mouth closer to you.

How long have you been standing there kissing him? Is the music still playing? Can anyone see you? None of that seems to matter. What matters is that you're here with him. You're kissing him.

"...I love you, too." You think you manage to say that at some point in the evening, but everything is such a blur...

"We should... get back to the hotel," Husk says, breathlessly, when he finally comes up for air. "Unless there's something else you want to do?"

"I'm fine with going back." A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you consider your next statement. "But I don't think I'm ready for our date to end yet. Maybe we could... spend the night together? In your room?"

Husk's eyes blow wide, and his tail stands up in curiosity. "I'd... I'd like that."

You don't know yet exactly what you want to do when you get back there, but you know Husk will respect whatever choice you make in the end. That respect for you, always framed as common human decency, is one of the many reasons you're so willing to return his feelings.

[gffa]

Honestly, I felt touched by your answer to the other anon. It must be very tiresome to deal with shit like that for so long.

People are rage baiting, throwing ready-made arguments abt everything. From serious topics like politics to fans enjoying a movie. Respectful discussion doesn't exist.

I've seen an answer inside a thread that I think apllies: if someone says rude things online to a damn stranger, said stranger has no obligation of being polite back or to try to understand. People need to rethink how they interact online. And, in some cases, there's no solution, jerks will be jerks.

Sorry you have to deal with that. Be good out there.

Hi! Thank you for the very sweet message, I appreciate it. And goddddd I have so many things to say about the state of respectful discussion (and the lack of it) in Star Wars fandom, because I don't think I've met a fandom where it's so complicated to even just understand the boundaries of a given discussion. Like, okay, let's say I'm going to have a conversation with someone who is Jedi-critical and we want it to be a respectful discussion--what does that look like? Because I've had discussions that I thought were very civil and fruitful, but then later almost every time I would see the person comment something like "Jedi fans are so blind they can't admit the truth." on someone else's post, often about a subject that we'd discussed. So, what initially felt like a respectful discussion then becomes completely soured and another source of contention in the fandom imo. And then there's the consideration of, what constitutes respectful discussion to both parties--if I completely disagree with everything you say and state my views with confidence (frex "Attachment is not the same thing as love, because the Jedi are primarily influenced by Buddhists on this aspect and both word of god commentary and the canon source material itself are extremely consistent on this."), does the other person consider that disrespectful to them if they disagree? I don't consider it inherently disrespectful, so long as we're talking about the content of the canon and not about other real people, because, babe, you can just not agree. I'm not doing anything to stop you. But I've found a lot of people think I'm trying to force them to agree with me when, no, I'm just stating things on my own blog as things I view as facts. People are free to disagree with me, just as I disagree with them, but a lot of people often seem to think differently as far as I can tell. I've seen so many discussions where people are like, "Finally! A respectful discussion in Star Wars!" and it's like. 90% of them just agreeing with each other. Like, yeah, it's easy to have a "respectful discussion" when you largely overlap opinions. But would they be that considerate if the person didn't largely agree with them? Would they still consider it respectful if the other person maintained their disagreement? And then there's the thorny, "What do we even consider 'canon'?" because, for me, I'm not really that into the Legends continuity for example. It's a very cool continuity, there's so much there that I love, but my heart is with Lucas' continuity. Some people really don't accept anything from the Disney continuity. All of that is fine, but to have a discussion, you have to figure out if you're using supplementary material and where each of you is coming from. And if you mix-and-match, that's another thing you have to address, because not everyone does.

And this is all over some fictional made up stories! Politics is easy to see why it gets so contentious--real people's lives are really on the line, anyone who can calmly discuss life and death situations for a lot of people like they don't matter is someone I'm going to have a hard time understanding. But over Star Wars? Having to overcome all of the above and pour a ton of energy into being compassionate when you've been burned so many times, all because of a fictional space story?? A lot of times it just doesn't seem worth it when there are better uses for our time and it's not like anyone's life is on the line here. (Like writing up a reference guide or silly Jedi Temple Life headcanons! So much more productive feeling!) So when someone comes into my inbox with bad faith commentary, I can only set down my boundaries and refuse to dance with them on the subject they're trying to needle me with. If they want a real discussion, they can pull up their big person's undies and approach me with good faith. Ultimately, I'm more interested in talking about how we treat each other and thinking that maybe that can provide some progress, rather than arguing about the same things we've done forever, because people are going to settle where they will, so many of us just aren't moving because we've done the homework, spent our time in the mines, and come to the conclusions we have after a lot of thought about it. Discussions where you're trying to move someone who doesn't want to be moved don't feel fruitful to me, I need a different purpose to engage and I'm doing my best to convey that that's where my boundary is, to people who come into my inbox. Genuinely good faith discussions are welcome, but you're going to have to pour a lot of compassion into it, because I'm going to be pouring a lot of compassion into a good faith discussion, too, otherwise I don't see it going anywhere. And people who try are going to get the same response they always get. I'll try to be gentle as I can about it, but seriously. Eight years of this. Extend me some grace, you guys, okay? 😂

[st4rdom-if]

oh my god i am so so sorry for that rude ass anon i was fucking shocked reading the sheer entitlement. i can bet my entire LIFE they've never created any type of content ever in their life. "why not do all the research before??" like it's not an ever evolving process??? like you owe anything to anyone??? i understand the frustration of waiting for a new chapter, because that's what happens when you get involved with something that's still being worked on, but to treat you like you OWE them anything and like you're not well within your write to 1) give up if you so wanted to, 2) take as much time as you want and need is simply infuriating. life doesn't always work out the way we want it to and even if it did, that's no guarantee for anything. all in all, and even though it's not my job, as a content creator myself i just wanted to apologize. you're doing your best and there are people out here who will respect and wait as long as needed. it's clear you put into a lot of thought and time into your writing and choices, and that's something that can't be rushed in order to keep its quality. thank you for all your hard work, it's not being taken for granted by everyone

Hey, I really appreciate this, honestly. Was already having a tough day and then I end up getting that ask and just…like God, I’ve gotten crap about how it sucks that this game is female genderlocked, I don’t need this as well about calling quits to this game that I started because I knew it would a dream come true for so many kpop stans and even introduce some people to the Korean entertainment industry.

[partywithoutsmiling]

Some musing on the Wanderer!Branch AU

(Okay, bit of a chaotic lore dump incoming, as this is probably the first time I am putting it to words)

Okay, important info first:

I headcanon it that Branch- and thus the other Brozone bros- are half-pop half-rock in their herritage; this headcanon is an old one, ever since World Tour dropped, and honestly only supported by the fact that Total Eclipse of the Heart that Branch sung as trolling is considered a Pop Rock song XD But hey, one doesnt need to have many reasons to make headcanons pff

(I have some tentative lore about his parents- and his grandparents- too, and how that would effect Branch and his Bros growing up, but I will leave that for a separated post)

But anyway, with Branch's Pop side being moderated by his Rock side, he would have always felt a bit out of place among his tribe, even he grew up perfectly happy with no tragedy in his life (I know switching Branch's and Poppy's place when it comes to being grey is all the rage right now, but I still feel most are missing all the necessary nuance to really make it work, but lets not get into that pf)

Obviously, that feeling of not fitting it only got hundred fold worse since his PTSD and him being grey, as Pop Trolls doesn't seem to be known for mental health support. Branch eventually leaving is not him going 'Screw you all, I will find someone who appreciates me' (much like Clay did) but more of a 'I am sorry, I won't get in your way anymore, I wont be a burden'

Basically massive amount of self-loathing and severe lack of self-worth. When Branch had his final breakdown and decided to leave, I don't think it would be with the precise goal of finding anyone (yes, part of him hopes he would be able to find his brothers and at least find closure one way or another, no matter how much it terrifies him).

Honestly, Branch probably didn't dare to examine his decision to leave any closely than he needed to, lest it would stand out to him for what it really was- a suicide trip.

This was Branch that doesnt know anything about the wide, outside world; he knows Bergen Town, knows of the old Troll Tree, and now knows the Forest and their Troll Village. But everything else is uncharted territory for him. He knows of the Neverglades, because of a faint memory of John Dory constantly talking about them when he was a baby, but has only a vague sense which way they are (I headcanon they make up for the border of Pop and Rock territories)

His preparation for the trip was abysmal, and so was his plan in general. He just picked a direction- opposite of Bergen Town, away from them- and started walking. When he first encountered the towering high peaks of Classical Territory, he immediatelly recognized that they can't be the Neverglades- very much not fitting the description that he remembered, so he walked past/around them, smack dab into Country territory.

Compared to others, I don't think the Country Trolls would have been very welcoming to him at the beginning; used to hard life, inhospitable land and abundant death, Branch would be an unexpected disturbance; obviously not a Classical Troll, who borders with them the closest but never comes down from the skies, obviously not a Funk Troll, who with their technological advance might as well be myths at this point- and obviously not a Pop Troll, since he doesnt shower them with obnoxious music and doesnt even look the part.

Had he been at his 100%, they would have probably been quite content to send him packing, figuring he was just a Rock Troll going solo career (little insert headcanon: Rock Troll Rite of Passage is going on a Rock Tour, and sometimes the more adventurous Rock Trolls strays into other territories to bother and cause mayhem other trolls. Barb's Rock Tour was her Rite of Passage, and being a freshly fanged Queen, she took it to another level)

But Branch quite helpfully collapsed on their doorstep, half starving and dehydrated, and they weren't so callous as to leave him there for the elements to take care of him.

Naturally, their help hardly came for free, and even if they didn't ask, Branch would have already feel indebted to them for wasting resources on his wellbeing. A Survivalist himself, he easily spotted the tight budget they were running, and felt guilty for being a burden yet again.

To his surprise, when the country trolls found out he was a hard worker, a skilled architect and wiz engineer, they completely turned their wariness around.

It was the start of his 'finding himself' journey, but for the first time, Branch started to feel... appreciated. Yes, these trolls didn't know him- but they looked at him, looked at what he can do, and called him accomplished; they were praising his skills, and called him valuable.

(But some sense of danger remained with him; as far as he believed, 'Branch' was left behind to rot away in his bunker. So when introducing himself, and habit got better of him, he started with "Bra-" but caught himself and finished "-mble"; and that new name, 'Bramble', stuck XD Still a plant name, still close enough that he can learn to repond to it- and honestly, feels like fits him better right now, as he feel all out of sorts)

It was only the first step, maybe, but it was a step toward feeling that he had some worth.

I think, out of all the Tribes, he stays with the Country trolls for the longest; yes, the life there is hard, but that is perhaps why he feels most welcomed there. There are no useless nonsense parties, no senseless dancing- the times when they can finaly wipe their brow and relax is when the community gathers together and they just... talk. Sit around, share food, look at the stars and reminiscence.

It's all very subdued, and even though Branch is the most obvious outsider ever, he feels like one with the community, and that by itself is already healing a deep wound he didnt know he had.

When the country trolls finally start singing on their good day, Branch is rather taken aback (He forgot, that Trolls are Trolls, and Trolls sing)- but the sombre and slow melody and topic of the country speaks to him, and while he doesnt join- and they dont push him to join- he listens, and he appreicates.

It is with Country Trolls that he heals most of his trauma when it comes to music. His Grandma and his Brothers leaving him are still a big guilt that weights him down- and something he wont address for a long time- but Country trolls shows him that music can be wildly different. He still doesnt sing, but when offered to be taught to play a banjo (XD), he probably doesnt refuse- mainly out of fear of insult, but also because for the first time in his life, he wants to actually try.

As time passes, his more curious side comes out- he asks questions, wants to know everything- up to this point, he didn't even know that the Country trolls were country- and to them it was obvious what they were, so why would they need to introduce themselves?

That line of questioning leads to the explanation of the other Tribes existing, and that each Tribes' music is different.

And for the first time in his life, Branch felt something alien to him- burning Wanderlust. (Bit of his Rock herritage showing, eh? Solo Rock tour, Rite of Passage~?) The thirst for knowledge was always there- after all, his bunker had many journals filled to brim with information about what he discovered in the foods, helpful tips for survival and many plans for inventions- but those were always done out of necessity, discovered and noted down so that he could live another say. Never before he had a desire to discover simply for the sake of discovering.

Never before he also actually felt like he had the option to do so; the world has always been an inhospitable wilderness to him, only filled with a small handful of trolls and a town full of monstrous giants. His childhood was filled with memory of a large iron cage, and that trapped feeling didn't change; after all, his Bunker, for all that it offered him safety, was a different type of cage too. The whole Troll Village- Pop Village, as he learned now- was another cage as well. Gilded one, made of ignorance.

And so he knew his time with the country trolls came to an end- and it was because he grew to respect them and appreciate them, that he doesnt disappear in the nigh and haltingly tells them his decision to leave and explore.

Memories of his Brothers' argument echo through his mind as he waits for the inevitable blow up, but.... he is once again surprised when the trolls just accepts this decision and wish him all the best- going as far as to help him pack- properly this time- and wheedling out of him a promise to check in once in a while, whenever he is in the neighbourhood.

Equipped with a non outdated map, he decides to make visit all the other territories one by one, starting from Country and heading right towards Classical, going around in one large circle around Pop Territory- Going to Techno after Classical, and to Rock right after that. Funk is largely a mystery to him- the Country trolls are at this point content to believe they are just a myth- much the same way a unicorn is to us- but Branch wants to keep an open mind.

After all, he himself had no idea other kind of trolls existed, so why dismiss the Funk Troll existence right away?

His travels to Symphonyville proved to be as challenging as was the start of his trip towards Country territory. Being high in the mountains- higher than anywhere Branch ever went- really showed him that walking is easy only when the road is straight and flat.

The air growing colder and thinning, he probably doesn't make the best first impression neither- especially in his dishevelled state, he is once more mistaken for a Rock Troll, and it takes a gargantuan amount of effort to convince anyone that he is simply there to learn music, and not cause any trouble.

Out of all the Tribes, he would stay with the Classical trolls the shortest. They are strict teachers, and their culture is very frigid and traditional- and Branch knows that he would have to wildly change himself to fit among them. Yet looking around, seeing the tall spires of the buildings around him, he finds he doesn't really want to. The grandiose of everything is rather intimidating- but even if he tried his best, he would never fit well among the classical trolls, always limited by something (like his ability to fly)

And realizes that was okay. That was acceptable. And that the classical trolls knew he wasn't a good fit now, and would hardly ever be a good fit ever- but they never expected him to become someone he is not. He asked them to teach him and so teach him they will- but you cant force a white sheep to grow black wool anymore that you can force a black sheep grow white.

The moment they realize Branch is there to learn and not wreck their peace like wandering Rock Trolls tend to do, they definitelly warm up to him more- but it still with the mildest of disapprovals since compared to them, Branch looks like a scrunkly kitten and all of them are just itching to groom him properly XD

Branch himself is amazed at the variety of musical instruments that exists and very quickly finds that he is not a progidy in plaing them all pff. Wind musical instruments are most likely completely beyond him, and after some attempts gives them up for a lost cause. Percussion fairs a bit better; he definitelly has some idea how to keep a beat and a rhythm, but even there he finds playing piano the most comfortable out of them all, with drums being a close second.

It is with string instruments that he trully shines, especially those that he can play with his own hands, without the need to use a pick or a bow; a tentative hint at his connection to music, the vibrations just send shivers down his spine and makes him feel more close to the sound his playing produces. (Guitar and Harp becoming his favourite instruments from the get go).

Getting to Techno was trickier. Them living underwater makes access to their territory rather impossible- unless Branch happens to meet someone willing to cross then bridge between Land and Sea XD

It makes for a rather convenient introduction for minor genres; the land bordering Classical and Rock seems to be as the perfect land for various minor tribes to cohabit in peace.

Are there Techno Opera trolls? Siren like beings, that found their homes on the deck of boats, sailing from and to an island after island? Techno Classical that built their living on the coast line, wanting to be close to both land and sea?

In any case, Branch discovers that even with music it's not so simple as shelving it into labels, and that it is ever growing, ever evolving. He never manages to actually visit Techno Reef, but he doesnt' need to; compared to other trolls, the Techno Trolls are not insular, and quite happily come to the surface or to the coast, both to vibe with the offshoots of their genre, to discover what they came up with, but also to simply make friends and have fun.

It was the first time Branch encountered a large party not unsimilar to that of a Pop Troll one- and yet for all that the party was just as loud and wild as he was used to seeing, the sight of it didnt really fill him with uncontrollable panic. It definitelly helped it was once again more about the music and the beat itself, and about the mood of the partygoers than it was about the singing; it was about experimentation and trying out new things- and yet not every troll was dancing around like maniacs. They had the stage for sure, and large crowd was gathering there- but there were also the fringe areas and corners, where Trolls just sat and chatted and bopped to the beat. Not forced to do anything they didn't want to, simply allowed to have fun in their own way.

He doesnt really interacts with the Techno Trolls that much, beyond when there is a party happening on the surface. Gravitates more towards exploring the Minor Territory, and discovering that it holds more than just Techno Classical/Opera. Not wanting to stray too close to the border with Pop, he nevertheless encounters encounters various offshoots of Pop as well- and the K-Pop gang as well

This definitelly allows him to learnt that even the Trolls Kingdom are not free of corruption and the bounty hunters are not starving for contracts- crime does happen in the troll kingdoms, and when the local police force comes short, the bounty hunters are the next best thing to employ.

Speaking with the K-Pop gang, he learns- with a bit of unease- that there was an old contract unfulfilled, that searched for all the Brozone Brothers, and thanked his lucky stars he can in no way be connected to them. It was considered a cold one, where there was no hope among the communities of it ever being cashed in- but the knowledge someone was looking for them- specifically for the younger of the brothers (Him, Floyd and Clay) made him wonder who could it be.

(Part of him entertained that it could be John Dory)

(Other part dismissed it right away. After all, JD did specifically state 'Goodbye Forever'- why would he make the effort to employ bounty hunters to find three of his brothers, if he was even alive to do so?)

That meetings seems to set of a string of bad luck- at least, that's how he feels. Continuing down to Rock territory- of which he is most wary (after all, he was constantly being confused for one, and expected to cause mayhem and destruction- so what kind of Trolls Rock Trolls were to earn that reputation?

A very specific kind- wild and chaotic.

Compared to other Territories, no-one blinks when he just walks in and continues deeper into the Kingdom; and he can finally see why he was mistaken for a Rock Troll. Muted colours, sharp smiles and even sharper claws, it was like walking into uncanny valley, where nearly every troll wears his face. At that point, unknown to him, his colours are not completely grey and black, so he is sporting some faint hues, and very quickly learns that thanks to the direction he came from, Rock Trolls think he is from an Offshoot genre; either Punk Rock or Pop Rock (though they obviously hope for the former) They reconsider him to Folk Rock when he brings out softer tunes that he plays on a borrowed guitar; and for the first time in a while, Branch is asked to sing.

He panics, obviously- playing musical instrument is one thing, but getting over his trauma from singing is another- and quite swiftly and bluntly refuses, cringing after to wait for the inevitable "You are a Troll, why don't you sing?"

Only... it never comes. There are shrugs, and one "Cool." and then he just gets invited to an Indie Rock show, and that is that.

Completely baffled at this easy acceptance, Branch agrees out of shock, before he can trully think it through- and realizes it's the first time since he left Pop Village (at this point probably nearly two years ago) that he thinks back on its inhabitants and namely Poppy.

He feels rather guilty, for taking this long to really give them a concrete thought. Like yes, he did think of them at the beginning, when he lived with the Country trolls- but that was only in general way, comparing the different livestyles. He never really chose to think about the people he left behind.

Now, no longer blinded with grief, self-loathing and rampart paranoia, he does remember that not all adults in his life went out of their way to activelly fail him. King Peppy, for all that he was unequipped to deal with Branch's issues, tried to check up on him regularly; his Grandmother's friends or those who knew her, made it their goal to be kind, even if Branch tried to avoid them out of reminder what he caused

Hype, Trickie, Boom and Ablaze were old friends- his childhood friends- the ones he made after his brothers left, and the ones he pushed away after he went grey- and yet they still managed to be around, noticing them from a distance, even as he stopped speaking to them.

And then there was, of course, Poppy.

Just starting to mature when he left, it's not quite a crush that he feels for her (not yet anyway), but there is still some sort of appreciation for her- some part of him, that subconsciously aches at the need to be close to her, and feeling just that bit of her warmth and positivity- one that made him wistfully keep all her invitations and listen to the sound of her recorded voice.

For the first time, he wonders how they reacted to his disappearence. Wonders if they miss him- or if they curse him. If they do both- like he felt conflicted towards his brothers, the older he got and the more obvious it became that they are not coming back.

It was that thought- the comparison to his brothers- that pushed him to hesitantly think about returning back to Pop Village; to his bunker, to his old life- to Poppy.

It was a tentative thought really; truthfully, the desire was a half hearted spur of the moment, and not something he would drop everything for. He didn't miss his old life; where he was the village hermit, the outcast, the weird one. Besides, he just arrived in Rock, and he still had a whole adventure ahead of him, trying to find the Funk trolls.

And so, When in Rome, do as the Romans do- and so Branch steeled himself to attend a party, one that he was specifically invited to; after all, he had been at parties before now, within the reach of Techno Reef, it's not like this one is any different

Only it kind of felt like it- yes, the music was harsher, the beat went harder- but the harmonizing of voices reminded him so close of his own tribe that it just left him feeling jittery- and at first, yes, the party made him tense and hardly participate, but as it went on, song after song, he could feel himself slowly relax.

(Besides, there was something about rock music, that send warmth straight to the core of his being; something about it resonated with him more than any other music did, besides Pop- and where before he fought hard to not allow it to do that, perhaps, just this time, he could try the opposite)

(After all, they were underground, where Branch always felt the safest, and the Bergens had no idea other tribes even existed- he could indulge a little)

Of course, fate has a funny way of entertaining itself, and in the second of his indecisiveness, he gets bumped into and trips and falls- or he would, if pair of hands didn't steady him, and familiar voice asked him if he was okay

And Branch suddenly felt altogether three years old, getting fed empty promise and watching his older brother disappear through the entry to his Grandma's pod

And he is now in present, left staring at nearly 15 years older Floyd, his brother clearly living the best life, happily away from Pop Territory (away from Branch)

His name drops from his lips before Branch can stop himself, and that has Floy pause and squint at him- obviously not recognizing him, obviously trying to place him- before something clicks and his eyes widen and he goes pale

Branch most likely punches him- and then finds he cant stop heaving in fury and goes punch him again, not allowing Floyd a word in (honestly, he is not punching very hard, not apart from that first one)

Of course, Floyd is hardly alone, probably in a band, and his band mates are not keen on having their member be attacked by a random troll

Brawl very easily breaks out- honestly nothing new among the Rock Trolls- and ends up with all of them, especially Branch, thrown in a cell for their troubles, much to the protest of Floyd's bandmates, who curses and claims innocence

For the first time in forever, Branch feels hollowed out; yes, he had been hoping for a closure- but honestly, he had expected to find all of his brothers dead; not finding any of them living happily away, their youngest brother not even a blip of concern in their mind.

He certainly never expected it from Floyd, who essentially lived a stone throw away; who clearly was able to cross the distance it took from Bergen town to arrive in Rock troll's territory, just shy away from the Pop one.

------------------------------------------------------------ This is where I will stop the musing for now XD;

Obviously there are more things to add; Barb would make appearance, not yet as a Queen but definitelly in charge of keeping any Rock Trolls in line (she is not called a Princess because the Rock Trolls don't use that title for their heirs) and while Floyd is aware she is the future Queen, that information doesnt get shared)

The discovery of Funk Trolls still awaits as well, as does Branch's return to Lonesome Flats, as he had promised to do

But that's for the next time :)