#and by this i mean LITERALLY EVERYTHING HE DOES

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Chapter 03;

— Your Sweet Love

Synosis: In a marriage born out of convenience and plagued by bitterness, You and Sunghoon find yourselves trapped in a cycle of cold indifference and unspoken resentment. Your quiet strength and tender care begin to reach the heart Sunghoon has so carefully guarded. Slowly, walls built from years of hurt and mistrust start to crumble, revealing a shared loneliness neither had acknowledged. With every tentative step toward connection, your hearts yearn for a closeness you’ve long denied yourself selves, leaving both to wonder if you can build something real from the ashes of your forced bond.

Navigation: Intro - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 Pairing: fem!reader X husband!Park Sunghoon Genre: Arranged Marriage trope; Angst; Fluff; Sexual themes; Warnings: cursing, mention of pills (some are drugs); abuse; mentions of blood; sexual content; injuries; heavy themes; juicy tension ;) Music: Listen to 'nevertheless ost' and 'the trunk ost'!! Disclaimer: This story is fiction, and it does not reflect real life in any way. This story is heavily inspired by the kdrama 'The Trunk' on Netflix but with a special twist! Words: 8k - New Chapter Every Saturday!!

A/n: This chapter was hard to write for some unknown reason, but it's literally my favorite!!! It's longer than usual, so enjoy! Also, I want to warn you: this chapter talks about domestic violence and has heavy themes, so be careful. Thank you for all the love and support. It means everything to me <3

The days after your injury seemed to pass tediously slowly. With your wounded right hand, you couldn’t do the usual chores that kept you busy during the day, leaving you stuck in bed or on the sofa. Watching TV and casually scrolling on your phone were all you could manage for the whole week. To you, it felt like you were a helpless princess trapped in a tower, unable to leave or do anything to distract your mind.

Today is Saturday, and it’s the most energetic and busy you’ve been all week. Since it’s the weekend, Sunghoon is at home with you, keeping you company and keeping an eye on you. The morning passed faster than it should have as you tried to help your husband with a quick cleaning of the house. Following your instructions, Sunghoon vacuumed the three bedrooms while you slowly wiped the dust off the surfaces. It was a simple task, but it was all you could do with just one hand. After that, he continued cleaning the kitchen while you busied yourself with the living room.

Once all the cleaning was done, you could feel how wet and sticky with sweat your body was, so you decided to take a quick bath to freshen up. You informed your husband of your plan, and he nodded, making a mental note to shower right after you. The sun outside was bright, casting its warm light through the large windows, bringing a sense of comfort with it. A soft breeze brushed against your skin as you walked to the main bathroom, the open windows refreshing the air.

As you stepped inside the bathroom, Sunghoon decided to lounge in the living room, planning to catch up on the series he had been watching. He threw himself onto the long sofa, yawning from exhaustion as he sank into the comfy pillows beneath him. Though he was focused on the TV, he kept an ear out for you, just in case you called.

In the large bathroom, completely illuminated by the bright sun outside, you began slowly stripping off your clothes. The warmth of the sunlight on your skin made you feel safe. As your clothes piled on the floor, your eyes scanned the tiled room, searching for the plastic glove you had been using on your right hand to help you wash without wetting your injured palm. You spotted it resting near the gold faucet. Carefully, you slid the stiff plastic material onto your hand and secured it around your wrist with a scrunchie, making sure it was tight before stepping into the tub. The bathtub was filling up as you moved, the fog from the hot water clouding the space.

Soon, you're sitting comfortably in the bathtub, the superheated water reaching just below your chest, making goosebumps form on your skin. Your arms dip beneath the surface as you let your head rest against the tub, savoring the quiet moment. After a few minutes of resting, you reach for your vanilla body wash and slowly begin washing yourself, keeping your injured hand in the air to protect it. The atmosphere is peaceful, the warmth of the sun, the water, and the familiar sweet scent relaxing you even further.

When you finish washing your body, you close your eyes and mentally prepare yourself to wash your hair. It’s always a struggle. Because it’s long, it requires a few extra steps to get it back to its natural state, and with only one hand to work with, it’s even harder. You gradually reach for your shampoo, causing little waves to ripple around you, and pour a bit onto the head massager you bought a few days ago to make the process easier.

You’re doing an okay job brushing your scalp when, suddenly, the tool slips from your hand and slides across the tiled floor with a loud thump. You bite your lip and quietly curse at yourself, barely believing what just happened. Your mind races for solutions. Two ideas cross your mind: you can stand up, walk over to retrieve it, and then get back into the water… or you can call Sunghoon for help.

Smiling at the second thought, you shake your head. There’s no way you’re calling him to assist you. Still, your heart starts to speed up at the thought of it—his handsome face peeking in as he hands you the massager, his usual confidence faltering at the sight of your bare skin. Your mind wanders even further, imagining how Sunghoon’s slender fingers could probably do a better job of washing your hair than that stupid tool, reaching all the spots you can’t quite get to.

Knowing that is definitely not happening, you reconsider the first option. You’d probably make a mess on the floor, leaving a large puddle of water as you walked. And worse, you could slip and fall—the tiles get dangerously slippery when wet. You close your eyes again, pressing your lips into a thin line, hating that, for your own good, you have no choice but to call for Sunghoon.

The truth is, you’re afraid of the growing proximity between you and Sunghoon. You’ve become dependent on his "good morning" every day to set the tone for your day. And lately, there’s been a tension between you—subtle but undeniable. Every time you’re close to him, you can feel it, like electricity traveling from his eyes to yours, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Sunghoon has been incredibly attentive and helpful ever since you cut yourself. He’s always around—preparing your meals, helping you grab heavier things, even something as simple as your coffee cup. You’ve started to notice how his touch lingers sometimes. When he holds your hand to help you put on your shoes, his fingers intertwine with yours for just a second too long. His other hand rests faintly on your hip to steady you, a barely-there presence that still sends your thoughts spiraling. With all these thoughts running through your mind, you make a decision.

“Sunghoon!” you call out, hoping he can hear you despite the distance.

Silence. You try again. And again. You chew on your lip, hating how dependent you’ve become on him, hating that he doesn’t seem to hear you. Just as you’re about to get up, there’s a faint knock on the wooden door.

“YN, is everything okay?” Sunghoon asks from the other side, his voice slightly breathless. He was nearly dozing off on the couch when he heard your voice calling for him. Worried, he rushed to the bathroom, ready to help with whatever you needed.

“Can you come in? I need help with something…” you admit, your voice louder, making sure he hears you this time.

Sunghoon hesitates. He doesn’t know what state you’re in, and if he walks in to see your bare body, he’s sure he’ll combust. The urge to touch you, to give in to whatever this tension is, has been driving him insane these past few days.

“Should I?” he murmurs, lower than he intended, his palm sweaty as it grips the doorknob, not quite turning it yet.

“Yes…” you answer. “Please.”

The invisible restraints holding him back snap at the sound of your plea. You always manage to hit his sweet spot without even realizing it, and he hates it.

Slowly, Sunghoon turns the doorknob and steps inside, taking a deep breath to steady himself. As soon as he enters the tiled bathroom, your scent surrounds him, invading his senses and clinging to his clothes. His brown eyes scan the scene in front of him, heat creeping through his body.

You’re sitting in the tub, your body turned toward the door as you lazily rest your head on your hand, your arm propped on the thick edge of the bathtub. Your black hair is soapy and piled messily on top of your head, and for a brief moment, he can’t help but think of how adorable you look. Then, his gaze shifts, catching sight of your right hand covered in a plastic glove. His attention snaps back to your face immediately.

“Why do you have a plastic glove on your hand?” he asks, still standing a few centimeters from the door, keeping his distance.

Your eyes find his, and for a second, you get lost in the deep brown of his gaze, words escaping you. But when he tilts his head slightly, confusion evident, waiting for an answer, you finally look away.

“I can’t get my hand wet,” you explain, closing your eyes as you add, “so I put the glove on so I could take a bath. Is that so hard to understand?” You said frustrated.

“You could have asked for help! It’s not good to keep your hand inside those cheap gloves. Besides, you should be washing that hand too—carefully.” Sunghoon sounds genuinely worried as he speaks, his eyes widening to emphasize his point. His hands move along with his words, gesturing in frustration.

A small smile tugs at your lips as he expresses his concern, and despite your best efforts, the little butterflies in your stomach begin to flutter. He looks adorable like this. Still, despite his words, Sunghoon remains frozen in place, as if his feet have grown roots, keeping him glued to the floor.

“Can you pass me that?” you interrupt, pointing at the black massager lying near his feet. “It slipped from my hand when I was washing my hair.” You gesture with your injured hand while your other arm remains firmly in place, shielding your bare chest.

“Oh—yeah. Sure,” Sunghoon stutters, suddenly realizing that you had everything under control and didn’t actually need his help. It shouldn’t surprise him—after all, you’ve always been used to doing things on your own.

He quickly bends down to grab it and steps forward to hand it back to you. His figure towers over you as he moves closer. You reach out with the arm you were using to cover yourself, stretching to take the plastic tool—but before you can, it slips from Sunghoon’s hands, rolling away once again.

You glance up at him, brows furrowed, ready to scold him. But the moment your eyes meet his, the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of his stare.

Sunghoon is completely entranced, his brain short-circuiting as his gaze greedily drinks you in. Your wide eyes look even larger as you tilt your head up to meet his, your pink lips slightly parted as you breathe slowly. A warm, rosy blush spreads across your skin—from your round cheeks and pointed nose down your neck and chest.

Soupy bubbles form around the edge of the water as it touches your skin, your breasts exposed. The way your skin glistens under the soft sunlight, the sweet scent wafting from your body, and the sight of your cute little hardened nipples make him lose his mind. Your seemingly innocent aura pulls him in, making it impossible to resist.

Sunghoon feels a tingling sensation spread through his body as his gaze travels back to your face—only to find you already searching for his eyes. Maybe he’s touch-starved from being single all this time, or maybe you’ve cast some kind of spell on him. Either way, he wants to touch you, to devour you as if you were the last meal he would ever taste.

“Sunghoon…” You call his name so softly it almost sounds like a needy moan. The truth is, you can feel his desire for you, deep in your bones. He’s a dangerously attractive man—tall, muscular, exuding confidence, and carrying a scent that draws you in like a drug.

“You don’t need to use those gloves ever again,” Sunghoon says, his voice low and firm. He kneels in front of you, reaching for your hand as he gently tugs at the cheap glove.

He does it slowly, carefully—his fingers burning as they graze your wrist, holding your hand still while he peels the glove away. A soft thud echoes in the foggy bathroom as it falls to the tiled floor. As he lingers, his fingertips barely ghost over your wound, his eyes locked onto your palm as if willing it to heal.

Your gaze never leaves his face as he continues his delicate ministrations, completely captivated by the tenderness of his touch. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, suppressing the overwhelming urge to kiss him. The thought of his plump lips pressing against yours, finally claiming you, makes your throat go dry.

“Can you turn around and hand me the shampoo bottle?” Sunghoon suddenly says, his voice softer now. “I’ll wash your hair for you. Just make sure you don’t dip your hand in the water—we’ll wash it after so it doesn’t affect the wound.”

His head tilts up, meeting your gaze once again. A small, knowing smile tugs at his lips before he shakes his head, silently commanding you to do as he says.

Breathlessly, you do just that—turning your back to the side of the tub and handing him the bottle of shampoo. This position is perfect. Sunghoon has easy access to your scalp, and you can finally face away from him, trying to regain your self-control, which seems to slip away with every second your eyes linger on his.

Sunghoon’s fingers slowly thread through your hair, gently tilting your head back to keep the shampoo from getting into your eyes. The confidence in his touch makes you wonder—has he done this before? Your mind drifts to thoughts of his ex-lover. Did he often wash her hair like this?

A gentle yet precise massage at the nape of your neck pulls you out of your thoughts, making your breath hitch in surprise. Your eyes flutter shut as you savor the way he works through your hair, occasionally letting out quiet gasps when he seems to hit just the right spot. His skilled hands leave your scalp for a moment as he reaches for the showerhead to rinse your hair. Without a word, you slide forward, creating space so you can tilt your head back, letting the warm water cascade down into the tub.

Sunghoon gulps at the sight before him. Your face is completely relaxed under the stream, water gliding down your hair. His gaze travels lower, catching a glimpse of your breasts—wet, glistening, and perfectly peaked. He exhales heavily, knowing he shouldn’t touch you. But God, he wants to.

Dragging his eyes back up, he checks your hair, making sure it's ready for the next step.

“Which one is it?” Sunghoon asks, his deep voice reverberating through the steamy room—and your empty mind.

You open your eyes slowly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before reaching for your hair treatment.

With a shy smile, you hand it to your husband, feeling exposed yet reveling in the way he stares at you. His gaze makes you feel wanted. Desired. But it also makes your skin burn with unbearable heat.

Sunghoon takes the small pot, scooping out just a bit of the rich formula with his fingertips as you settle back into place, awaiting his touch once more.

Sunghoon holds your hair carefully, applying the hair mask from the middle to the tips, scrunching it lightly—knowing it’s needed for your wavy strands. As his expert fingers work through your hair, your mind wanders again. He knows exactly what he’s doing, making it painfully clear that he’s done this before. More than once.

“How long do we have to wait?” he asks, taking you by surprise.

“Five minutes,” you respond, turning to face him, your lips pressing into a thin line.

Sunghoon reaches for you, gathering all your hair and placing it over your left shoulder, letting it rest against your chest.

“There,” he murmurs. “Like this, it won’t get wet.” His voice is low, almost hesitant, as he feels the heat creeping up his neck and ears under your unwavering gaze.

“Have you done this before?” you ask softly, your eyes never leaving his face.

Sunghoon looks away, as if trying to avoid the question. But he isn’t scared of you anymore. So why not tell the truth?

“Well,” he begins, settling down on the floor and leaning his back against the tub, his face now level with yours. You rest your head on your palm, waiting for his explanation.

“My ex used to come home drunk after going out with her friends. She was always a mess—barely able to move. Sometimes she would even throw up on herself. So I started helping her shower as soon as she got inside the house.”

His once-relaxed expression hardens. His brows knit together, and his lips form a small, displeased pout as he recalls the memories.

You stay silent, unsure of what to say. Sunghoon notices and turns to face you. Your lips are sealed shut, the corners subtly dipping downward. Your eyes, almost half-lidded, stare at your hand as if you’re fighting an internal battle.

Then, finally, your gaze lifts to meet his. In that moment, nothing else exists—just you and him.

Your heartbeat picks up, thudding so loudly you’re sure Sunghoon can hear it. But he doesn’t seem to care. He’s lost in the red flecks of your deep brown irises, in the way your eyes always give away more than your words ever could.

And before he can think, before logic can catch up—his body moves on its own.

Slowly, he leans in.

Your lips part in anticipation, longing for nothing more than to finally taste those plump lips of his—the ones that never seem to leave your mind. You close your eyes, hoping to feel his warmth against yours, but instead, you're met with nothing.

When you open your eyes, Sunghoon is reaching for the showerhead.

Embarrassment burns through your cheeks, and you quickly shift inside the tub, making room for him to rinse your hair once more. You bite your lip nervously as you tilt your head back, careful to keep the water from getting in your eyes.

Each second drags on unbearably as he gently caresses the ends of your hair, making sure every trace of the mask is gone. The air between you feels thick—so heavy you could probably cut it with a knife. Every moment suffocates you, robbing you of breath.

Sunghoon finally turns off the water. You pull your knees to your chest, resting your cheek against them, the sting of embarrassment and rejection making you want to cry.

Once your hair is done, Sunghoon reaches for a small towel hanging by the tub. He dips a corner into the water before looking at you.

“Can I have your hand?” he asks gently.

You let him take your wrist again, watching as he carefully rubs your injured hand, cleaning it with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. Your wide eyes remain fixed on him, feeling every ounce of care in his touch. The weight in your heart grows heavier, your emotions now as clear as water.

“All done,” Sunghoon murmurs with a small smile, turning his head slightly to meet your gaze. You hesitate before making eye contact, but the softness in his eyes eases the feeling weighing you down.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the living room,” he continues sweetly. “The new season of that basketball anime we were watching just dropped. I’ll bring the blanket and snacks.”

Then he flashes you one of those warm, seductive smiles, and it hits you square in the heart. As he walks away, you don’t move—your mind still stuck on the rejected kiss. Sunghoon notices you lost in thought.

“Come on, hurry up,” he says before closing the door, leaving you alone once and for all.

You let out a long sigh that had been caught in your throat and finally stand up, following his orders.

The rest of the evening unfolds exactly as Sunghoon had planned—the two of you sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching anime and eating junk food. You sit in the right corner while Sunghoon takes the opposite side, but at some point, without you noticing, he inches closer and closer.

Your tired eyes scan the room, burning from the bright TV lights, when you suddenly notice Sunghoon asleep, his head resting on your lap.

You don’t remember him moving this close, nor do you recall him falling asleep. But instead of waking him, you stay still for a few more minutes, letting him rest.

It’s amusing to watch him blink awake, immediately staring at you with a confused expression plastered across his face. The moment he realizes where he is, he quickly apologizes and sits up, his cheeks flushing red at the unexpected closeness.

Yawning, you also get up from the sofa and start heading toward your room, eager to sink into the comfort of your bed.

Sunghoon watches as you walk past him, his eyes never leaving your body. A part of him urges him to run after you, to pull you into his bedroom—but he knows that would be crossing a line he could never return from.

So he stays frozen in place like a fool, watching as you disappear into your room, leaving him feeling dizzy and lonely.

“You first,” Sunghoon instructs as he holds open the heavy restaurant door, leaving space for you to pass so he can follow right after.

The restaurant is busy, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter as soon as you step inside. The rich scent of barbecue fills your nose, making your stomach growl in anticipation.

A friendly woman stands by the entrance, greeting every guest with a warm smile. As soon as she spots the two of you, she quickly leads you to a table in the back of the room. It’s a table for four, surrounded by tall bamboo plants that provide a sense of privacy.

Sunghoon steps behind you, gently helping you take off your coat. Once done, he drapes it over the back of your chair before guiding you to sit. As you settle in, you glance up at him, wanting to show your gratitude for his gentlemanly actions. Your smile is met with his own as he walks around the table and takes the seat across from you.

Hungry, your eyes scan the menu quickly, already knowing what you want to order. Meanwhile, Sunghoon is still considering his choices. Resting your chin on your hand, you take a moment to admire the way his eyes focus so intently.

It’s Sunday, and since it’s yet another sunny day, Sunghoon invited you to join him at his favorite barbecue place. At first, you were taken aback by his request—he had never done this before. But then you remembered the dinner proposal from the night you injured yourself. He explained that this was the same thing, except this time, you’d be eating out instead of at home.

You smirked as you watched him struggle to get his words out, nervousness creeping in as he tried to explain his intentions. His flustered demeanor was endearing. You reassured him that it was a great idea and that you’d love to join him. The moment you said that, he let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Stop staring at me…” he suddenly says, putting down the menu.

“I can’t help it. The way you were shaking just to ask me to come here was so adorable,” you say sincerely. His reaction is sweet again—he quickly avoids your gaze, and you notice his ears turning red.

Sunghoon then calls out your order to the waitress, who gives him a thumbs-up and a smile. Your eyes wander to the large window next to your seat, offering the prettiest view of the Han River. Outside, people stroll leisurely, looking happy as if life regained its meaning with the sunlight. Your thoughts drift to a young couple sitting on a bench, the man handing the girl a bouquet of pink tulips, and it reminds you of Ni-ki and his sweet nature.

But your thoughts are interrupted by a loud, deep voice with a heavy accent. You turn your head to see a tall, brunette guy staring at Sunghoon, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“Sunghoon, it’s you! I haven’t seen you in so long!” he says happily, quickly leaning in to give Sunghoon a tight hug.

“Jake!” Sunghoon calls out, smiling. You notice how your husband’s face changes when his gaze lands on Jake. His eyes seem to sparkle like never before, and the smile on his lips is completely new—adorable.

“Oh, sorry for being impolite!” Jake quickly adds, looking toward you. “I’m Jake, Sunghoon’s childhood best friend!” The brunette bows at you, and you bow back.

“This is YN, my…” Sunghoon pauses, looking at you. “My wife,” he says softly, and the way the words roll off his tongue makes your cheeks turn red.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” you say kindly, wanting to make a good impression. But despite his smile and politeness, confusion is written all over Jake’s face.

“What happened to Jiwon?” he asks shamelessly, his gaze returning to Sunghoon. Your husband glances at you, looking cornered. His features sharpen as he adjusts his shirt.

“We’re no longer together,” Sunghoon reassures, his brown eyes soft as they meet yours, as if trying to convince himself of that.

“Thank god, man,” Jake blurts out, leaving both of you baffled. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, noticing your confused stare, “she used to be a nice girl, but she was crazy as hell.” Your gaze shifts from Jake to Sunghoon. He’s looking at the plate in front of him, his expression weak and sad.

Silence settles for a few seconds, your eyes still glued to your husband’s. Jake seems to sense how uncomfortable the mood has become, and he glances at Sunghoon before speaking again. “It was good to see you, man. I hope we can go back to hanging out together!” He grins at his friend and pats his shoulder.

“If you want, you can sit with us!” you suggest, sensing Sunghoon hasn’t had the chance to catch up with his childhood friend in a while. Sunghoon looks at you, a mix of annoyance and happiness on his face. He’s a little disappointed that he’s no longer alone with you, but he’s also pleased to talk to his friend again.

“Sure, I’d love to!” Jake assures, taking a seat next to Sunghoon.

The conversation that follows is comfortable and fun. Jake starts telling you silly stories from their childhood, his excitement clear in his eyes. While listening intently, your eyes are fixed on Sunghoon. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, his friend’s easygoing nature making him open up a little more. You admire his big smile, so honest and happy, and how his brown eyes almost disappear when he laughs.

“I have to apologize for something, though,” Jake suddenly says, his gaze turning serious as he fully turns to face Sunghoon. “I shouldn’t have listened to her. It was selfish of me, but I really needed that job…” Jake explains, though you and your husband look at him with furrowed brows, clearly confused.

“Jake…” Sunghoon calls in a low voice, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

“No, listen, it’s my fault. I admit it,” the brunette insists, his accent growing heavier. Sunghoon seems to understand what’s going on, but you’re still confused.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling annoyed to be left out.

Jake glances at you, then at Sunghoon. “Jiwon, his ex. She prohibited me from talking to Sunghoon. She said I was a bad influence on him. When I told her I wouldn’t stop talking to my childhood best friend, she threatened me…” Jake explains slowly, watching as your mouth falls open in surprise. “Her dad was the owner of the advocacy agency I worked at the time, and she said she’d get me fired. My mom was in the hospital at that time, and I was helping my dad pay the bills,” he continues, now shifting his eyes to Sunghoon. “I regret it now because I was fired anyway. But I never stopped caring about you, Sunghoon. The guilt was heavy every day. I couldn’t even look at our pictures from when we were younger.”

Sunghoon looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting as he listens to his best friend, his heart aching at the honesty in his words. When he lifts his head, you can see he’s holding back tears, his sighs trembling as they meet Jake's eyes.

“It’s okay,” Sunghoon assures his friend, patting his shoulder. “You’re here now; that’s all that matters!” He says with a sad smile. Jake pouts cutely before wrapping his arms around Sunghoon’s shoulders, hugging him tightly.

You’re so busy watching that you don’t even realize you have tears in your eyes, tiny and warm. A melancholic smile forms on your lips as Sunghoon glances at you, wanting to show you how happy he is. But the truth is, it’s such a sad situation that you can’t imagine how alone and abandoned Sunghoon must have felt.

Soon, the food is placed on the table, and the two friends get lost in conversation as they grill the meat, the delicious smell making you giggle like a child. Sunghoon, despite engaging in his friend's conversation, never stops looking out for you. He cuts the meat into bite-sized portions so you can easily pick it up with your fork, keeps an eye on your cup to make sure it’s always full, and watches what food you’re eyeing so he can serve it to you.

The time seemed to fly by faster than usual, and soon you find yourself at the entrance of your home. Sunghoon is on his knees, untying the knots in your heels and helping you slip into your fluffy pink slippers. You walk to the kitchen as your husband stays behind, taking off his shoes. Inside the empty kitchen, you go straight to the fridge and grab two beers, planning to head to the living room and relax.

Sunghoon seems to catch on to your plan, so he heads straight for the living room and claims his spot on the comfy sofa. You soon appear, now in comfortable pajama pants and a long t-shirt, your big glasses back on your face. When you realize where he’s sitting, you let out a loud laugh, catching his attention.

“In the middle? That’s new,” you joke, arching an eyebrow at him. Sunghoon gives you a teasing grin and pats the empty space beside him, inviting you over. You do as he gestures and sit by his side, your knee touching his. “What are we watching? There’s no basketball match today,” you ask, glancing at him.

He’s sitting in the middle of the couch, facing you, while his side is turned toward the TV. “Can we talk instead?” Sunghoon asks softly, studying your focused face.

“Sure!” you reply with a smile, turning to face him, your side now turned toward the television. He stays quiet for a few minutes, his thoughts tangled in his mind as he gathers the courage to start talking. Before speaking, his gaze drifts from your face to his restless hands, resting on his legs.

“Jiwon wasn’t always controlling,” he begins, trying to keep his voice steady. His heart aches at the thought of her, now despising how she treated him. Noticing that he wants to have a serious conversation, your expression shifts too—your eyes narrow, and your smile fades away. “At first, she was calm, loving, and patient. She was always there for me, and that’s what made me fall for her. But over time, she completely changed. She became mean and controlling, prohibiting me from leaving the house in certain clothes, and then from seeing my friends. The worst part was how she always made it seem like it was my fault, telling me that I was trying to show off my looks and that I was starved for other women’s attention. I never even thought about anyone else, you know?” Sunghoon asks, finally able to give you a quick glance. “I could only see her.”

Hearing this wasn’t easy. Your eyebrows furrow, and a lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to say anything. When he briefly looks at you, you try to convey how sorry you feel for him with your eyes. You stare into his deep brown eyes so intensely, you’re sure he can see your soul.

“When we got engaged, it got worse.” He paused, catching his breath as it became harder to breathe. “We moved in with my dad because he was so happy I got engaged and was finally ready to learn about managing his company. Since I was always in meetings and dinners with important people, she became jealous all the time. She’d call me ten times during busy meetings. That’s when she started hitting me. At first, it was pushing me with force, then it turned into punches on my shoulders and sides… Eventually, she started slapping me. Every time I didn’t agree with her or wasn’t home when she wanted, she used it as an excuse to hit me.”

Sunghoon seemed ashamed as he spoke, his gaze nervously shifting around the room. But your eyes never left his face. Tears began to form in your eyes as you listened, and before you could do anything, they started rolling down your cheeks. They were silent but heavy, your breathing unsteady, and your hands trembling. You couldn’t even begin to understand the pain and abuse he had endured.

“I started sleeping terribly by then, feeling lonely and depressed all the time. And I had no one. My dad knew everything but acted like he didn’t. My friends stopped talking to me, and my mom…” Sunghoon’s voice cracked as tears began to form in his eyes. “I was upset at my mom. She caught Jiwon hitting me and told me to leave her and make a report to the police, but instead, I got upset at her.” Without realizing it, his tears started to fall too, wetting his warm face.

Without thinking, you reached for him and cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you. That’s when he noticed you were crying with him, sharing his pain as if you were feeling it too. Your small hands tried to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, hating to see him this way.

“It’s not your fault, Sunghoon,” you muttered, your voice cracking. “She was abusive and evil, and it had nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong,” you assured him, staring into his eyes as you spoke, your heart aching as if it were being stabbed.

“I know that…” he added, a sad smile forming in his eyes. “Now, I know that.”

“I’m so sorry you went through all of this,” you added, the tears now falling like a waterfall from your red eyes. It’s so unfair that he had to endure all of this, especially knowing his father was abusive too.

“It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologize,” Sunghoon said, gently pulling your hands off his face. He opted to hold them instead, craving the warmth of your touch against his cold skin. “I miss my mom so much,” he confessed, his sad eyes searching for yours again.

“I’m sure she misses you too. She loves you so much,” you replied, trying to smile. “I’m sure if you ran to her arms, she wouldn’t question it. She’d just take you in, because after all, you are her son.” You squeezed his hands tightly as you spoke, trying to reassure him with your words.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything else and remained quiet, watching you, completely fascinated by your empathetic heart. If he wasn’t sure of what he felt for you before, he certainly was now. Under your caring gaze, Sunghoon tugged gently on your wrist, silently conveying what he wanted. You bit your lip and hid a smile, then got up and settled between his legs, your back against his chest. Your husband quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling your sweet perfume.

You let him do as he wished, knowing he craved closure after opening his heart to you. And to be honest, it felt good when he held you like this—his embrace was strong and comfortable. As the moon rose in the night sky, you and Sunghoon kept a familiar silence, enjoying each other’s presence.

The next two weeks pass by smoothly. Sunghoon starts eating dinner at home with you every day, always coming to the kitchen with a bright smile and a hungry stomach. You both talk and laugh about the stories he tells you about the company, and the atmosphere is comfortable and familiar. Usually, after eating, your husband helps you clean up and gather the dishes to load into the dishwasher.

Then, the old routine of hanging out in the living room follows, but ever since that afternoon, you and Sunghoon now spend more time together. He typically sits back against the sofa, opening his arms for you to snuggle against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. He then wraps his arms around you or caresses your soft hair, loving how it always smells clean and fresh.

Your hand is finally healed. Last week, Sunghoon drove you to your appointment, and the doctor removed the stitches, telling you to be careful for a few more days. You were so happy to finally be able to do your usual tasks instead of lying around all day. Today is no different. It’s almost seven pm, and Sunghoon must be close, so you finish the last touches on the meal.

Suddenly, your phone starts ringing, the loud music startling you. You check the caller ID and see Sunoo’s name. You almost forgot you asked him for a favor. You quickly accept his call:

“Hey girl, sorry for calling so late,” he greets from the other side.

“It’s okay…” you respond, noticing how hesitant his voice sounds. “Any news?”

“Yeah, that’s why I called.” Sunoo took a deep breath. “You were right. It was her who was giving him those pills. But they aren’t normal sleeping pills, YN. They’re drugs, actual drugs. My dad followed her for a few days and found out that she has a male friend who works at a pharmacy, and he provides her with drugs. He swaps them for the sleeping pills and gives her the bottles like it’s nothing.” As Sunoo explains, you feel your blood start to boil, your body temperature rising as you finally piece everything together. “We can meet another day so I can show you the evidence and explain it better!”

“Yes, of course!” Then, you hear Sunghoon’s car pull into the driveway. “Thank you, Sunoo. Tell your father he doesn’t owe me anything anymore. Sunghoon’s here, I have to go.” Just as you finish speaking, you hear him punch in the passcode and walk inside. Your fingers quickly end the call, and you try to act naturally. It’s hard to control your feelings when you first see Sunghoon. Today, he looks different—his face is serious, and his lips are pressed into a thin line.

You study him carefully, sensing something is wrong. Sunghoon steps into the kitchen without a word, circles the island, and comes close to you. He wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in your chest, catching you by surprise. Your hands quickly find their way to his hair, and you caress it as you wait for him to speak.

“Today was so stressful.” He whined with a pout on his lips, his eyes glancing at yours. “I feel so irritated, anytime someone talked to me today I was rude.” He explained, now lifting his head and pulling you flush against him, now your head was in his chest.

You inhale his scent, feeling your nerves begin to calm down. “It’s okay, I’m here with you now,” you say sweetly, looking up at him with doe eyes, making him feel like you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

You slowly pull away from him to guide him to the dinner table, then go to take care of the food. The jjajangmyeon is ready, and it smells delicious. You carefully place the bowl in front of him, then do the same for yourself. You sit across from him, and while you eat, you steal glances at his face. Your mind drifts to Jiwon, and you bite your lip, trying to contain the rage you feel. How could she do this to him? In addition to abusing him, she made him an addict. Sunghoon notices the way your face hardens and asks:

“You okay? You seem upset.” He asks while slurping his noodles.

“I’m fine, just frustrated, that’s all,” you explain, your eyes completely avoiding his.

“Frustrated? Like sexually, or in general?” Your mouth opens at the question, not expecting such a bold one. He sure has been a bit more comfortable with you lately.

“Sunghoon,” you call sternly, but your face betrays you as a soft red blush spreads across your cheeks.

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything else, just smirking as he keeps eating, clearly enjoying making you embarrassed. This past week, it’s been harder and harder for him to resist you. It feels like the more he gets to know you, the more desire burns inside him, consuming him every single night.

The rest of the meal is silent, except for the slurping of the noodles. When you’re done, you get up and start gathering your dishes for the dishwasher. Today, you’re eager to go to bed, not feeling very social since Jiwon keeps bugging your mind. Sunghoon soon follows behind you, also picking up his dishes and helping you load them correctly into the machine.

You try to avoid him as much as possible, feeling like you can’t be your usual sweet self. After helping you, he brings his work case to the table and takes out his laptop, wanting to work a little while in your presence. But as you try to pass by him at the table, he suddenly gets up from his chair and bumps into you, causing you to stumble onto the table. His expensive work bag is knocked over and falls open, spilling its contents onto the floor.

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” Sunghoon asks, concerned, his hand reaching out for your face, but you pull away.

“Yeah, sorry I made your stuff fall,” you joke, squatting down to begin picking up everything. Sunghoon follows suit, also gathering his things. That’s when he notices the small picture his ex gave him weeks ago. He tries to grab it, but before he can, your small hand picks it up first.

“What’s this?” you murmur more to yourself, inspecting the picture. You soon realize it’s a photo of Sunghoon and his ex-fiancée, his fake smile giving it away. Then, your fingers flip the picture to find a small bag with two pills inside. “Sunghoon…” you call, dangling the picture in your fingers.

“YN, I can explain,” he says, stuttering, already knowing he’s messed up.

“You better start explaining then,” you add nervously, standing up and crossing your arms. Your eyes are heavy as they stare into him.

“She gave me that a few weeks ago… I didn’t mean to take them, ever. Look—” He says, reaching out to grab the damn photograph. “The tape is intact. I didn’t take anything.”

“How did she give you this?” you ask, your voice rising as your blood starts to boil. You close your eyes, trying to calm your racing heart.

“I met her,” Sunghoon confesses, his head hanging as he speaks, too embarrassed to face you. “It was weeks ago, before you cut yourself. She—she was upset because I stopped reaching out to her, and she asked me to meet her.” He explains, now slowly stepping towards you, his hands reaching out for you. “I didn’t want to go—”

“But you went anyway,” you interrupt, your patience running thin. How could he do this to himself? Torture himself like this? As he gets closer, you step back, not wanting him to touch you right now.

“I went because I wanted to say goodbye to her. I never want to see her again. It was my way of saying goodbye,” Sunghoon explains, his eyes wide as he tries to justify himself.

“Sure,” you add, not believing a single word coming out of his mouth. Not wanting to argue further, you turn your back to him and start walking toward your bedroom. But it seems like Sunghoon isn’t done.

“Actually, I don’t know why I’m explaining myself. You don’t have anything to do with me,” he adds, feeling bitter and rejected as you walk away. His words make you stop. You slowly turn around and look at him.

“Oh, so now I don’t mean anything?” you add, feeling more hurt than angry. You knew he was pent up from work, and it was making him say whatever came to his mind. You weren’t exactly upset at him, but he was there at the moment, and you might have poured everything onto him.

“Wait, I didn’t—” Sunghoon starts to speak, running his hand through his hair. “You can’t tell me who I can meet and who I can’t. It doesn’t matter if I have feelings for you or not!” he adds, starting to feel angry again. “We’re not even together. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

As the last words leave his mouth, they pierce through your heart like a blade, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. The sour truth leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You stare at him one last time without saying anything, your hands shaking and your legs feeling wobbly. A single tear falls from your eyes, but you quickly catch it with the back of your hand, feeling stupid for crying because of him.

Without saying another word, you turn your back to him again and walk up the staircase, avoiding him as much as possible. Sunghoon soon realizes what he’s said and sprints behind you, guilt consuming him. He didn’t mean any of those words. He didn’t even know why he said them. Maybe it was the frustration of the busy day or the way you looked at him, as if you were disappointed in him. To his dismay, as soon as he reaches the top of the stairs, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door right in his face.

And so, he stands by your closed door like an idiot, his head low as he debates whether he should knock and apologize or leave you alone.

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[xxsteveharringtonxx]

A Little Time

(Steve Harrington x Reader)

Steve was always soft.

He was soft and gentle and kind.

Well, he was with you anyway.

It had always been that way since Middle School. When he first saw you again after summer break and you smiled at him with a quick wave across the park lot, Steve just knew you were good.

Too good.

He wasn’t as gracious in High School, he got popular and a little mean but you kept your distance, ran in different crowds. It was just how things were. But when he was paired with you in Bio or when he borrowed your notes there was a calmness that took over him.

A peacefulness he doesn’t experience often.

But now, after the hell you were all thrusted into at Star Court and everything that had happened since then Steve had hardened.

Exteriorly he had anyway.

The soft spot he’s had for you since Middle School was now goo, he was protective and worried and no matter how many times you reached out and touched his arm, gently telling him ‘it’s okay Steve, I’m tougher than I look’ it didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was that you were safe and always within reaching distance.

And it’s not even that he didn’t know that, of course he knew how strong you were. He had witnessed it on more than one occasion. It was more like he knew that if he ever let anything happen to you he would lose his mind.

It would break him.

He almost felt as though he’d been looking after you since Middle School, making sure Tommy and his goon squad didn’t bother you, checking in during mid terms and finals, and even down to walking you to your car after shifts at Star Court.

And then more recently, dragging you out of the Upside Down and patching up whatever scratches or cuts you’d managed to get down there.

His touch always soft, always leaving you wanting and needing more. Despite his frantic and panicked over reacting, both of you always made it out alive.

Together.

And that was enough for now as you tried to adjust back into reality, real life taking over quickly and your early twenties flying by even quicker.

“Hey, you’re spacing out.” Robin snapped clicking her fingers in front of your face.

“Sorry.” You told her with a soft laugh, your attention spanning back to her.

“So are you coming?” She asked impatiently and making you nod not really knowing what she was referring to.

“Of course.” You replied to her just as Steve and Eddie rejoined you, a tray of fries and milkshakes placed on the table in front of you.

Steve sliding in easily beside you in the booth, his arm behind your shoulders resting on the seat, his back to the aisle so you were safely blocked between the window and anyone even passing through the diner.

His movements were casual but calculated.

He was comfortable when you were safe, and felt safe.

That’s all that ever matters to him.

“What are you gossiping about?” Eddie asked throwing a handful of fries into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously, your nose scrunching in disgust.

“Gross Eddie!” You scolded moving closer into Steve without even realising. His heart elating with joy as you did, his warmth showering you.

Robin watched with a small knowing smile as Steve passed you your milkshake, not even caring about his own until you were set.

“We were talking about your show later. When does it start?” She asked him also shoving fries in her mouth.

And you were listening to Eddie, you really were but Steve’s fingers brushed the side of your neck as you reached forward for some fries. And the electricity the small touch sent down your spine was deafening.

Literally.

You couldn’t hear Eddie talking about the itinerary. Just his mouth movement and animated hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t even hear Steve no doubt joking about bringing ear plugs.

It frightened you sometimes how he made you feel.

Because he was just Steve, your Steve. But just Steve nonetheless.

Gulping you blinked back into the room, a deep breath and focusing back on Steve’s voice.

“So we can get there at eleven? And you start around midnight? I’ll pick you girls up at ten thirty.” He confirmed looking down at you with an easy grin.

“Great! Sounds perfect.”

___

Later that night you were clutching onto Steve’s arm as if your life depended on it, Robin’s fingers hooked around your wrist as you all pushed through the crowds in the Hideout.

Steve, worried about losing you in the crowd wriggled his arm out of your hold and laced his fingers through yours instead. A grip you couldn’t escape from even if you wanted to.

Which you definitely didn’t.

Once you found a good spot you thought he’d let go, even when Robin passed him a beer you thought that must be it, he’ll want his hand back and you feel cold but he didn’t.

He tugged you closer beside him when the music started and eventually when bodies were moving and the crowd pushing forward he pulled you to stand in front of him, his hand letting go of yours but running down your rib cage and then finding home on your hip.

With you in one hand and his beer in his other he started to relax and enjoy the music. Nothing he wanted more in this moment. Having you in his arms in this moment was enough to make him happy for the rest of his life.

And then Corroded Coffin strayed from their usual set list and played some familiar chords.

The drums making you chuckle, Eddie’s cheesy line to ‘all the lovers out there tonight, let’s slow it down.’

Steve leaning down to your ear and you could feel his grin.

“I love this song!” He told you and you couldn’t stop the grin taking over your features as you turned to face up at him.

“I know Steve! You play this like a hundred times in the car!” You told him with a playful eye roll and he squeezed your hip in retaliation.

You giggled,

Giggled, like a pathetic little school girl.

But Steve managed to do that to you. Reducing you to a smitten girl with a huge crush.

Looking back at Eddie and his band you enjoyed the warmth of Steve surrounding you. His chest rumbling as he sang along.

I wanna know what love is

I want you to show me

I wanna feel what love is

I know you can show me.

Joining in the singing you felt Steve’s thumb brush over the exposed skin on your hip, Robin swaying beside you both.

You weren’t sure what came over you but your eyes burned with tears and you blinked them away, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You were happy.

Relieved.

But so happy.

And it was Steve, it always came back to Steve.

By the time he was dropping back off at your place you didn’t want the night to end despite it now being almost 3am.

“Hey Steve?” You heard yourself before your brain even processed what you were doing.

You spun on the doorstep and he’d stopped in his tracks to face you, hopeful.

“Yeah?” He asked already inching back towards you.

You didn’t know this and he’d never tell you but his heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear the thud thud thud ringing through his ears. A million thoughts running through his brain.

“You wanna come in?” You asked so quickly as if to not allow yourself to change your mind.

Steve smiled, slowly at first, maybe a little shy as if unsure you were being serious but then definitely confident when he saw your chest heave with a brave breath.

Grinning he nodded and your bottom lip was captured by your teeth to stop your own grin.

“Yeah.” He breathed out jogging back up the path to you. “I definitely want to.” And before even giving you a chance to respond his hands were on your cheeks and he was kissing you so intently.

Still soft and still gentle like you always knew Steve to be.

But also determined and eager.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to kiss you.” He told you finally pulling away but still close enough that you could feel his lips against yours as he spoke.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to kiss me.” You joked back, leading him into shutting you up with another kiss, just a peck.

“Well I won’t keeping you waiting as long next time.” He offered standing up straight and letting you unlock the door.

“You promise?” You asked over your shoulder, a glint of something in your eyes that Steve hoped he got to see everyday.

“I promise.” He confirmed and following you inside, hands itching to find your skin again and heart still pounding in his chest.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

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

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

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

STANLEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you giggle. “Stan, just cuddle me.”

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

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

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

STANFORD

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

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

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

“ah. as I suspected.” Ford says

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

no problem is too small. he listens to every complaint

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

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

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

[reginyani]

Lessons | s.reid x fem!bau!reader

summary: You take it upon yourself to help Spencer Reid, your genius FBI co-worker develop confidence and social skills— especially in flirting. As you continue to give Spencer casual lessons in flirting, you both begin to realize this isn't just 'casual'. This leads Spencer into overthinking, and making a rash decision which ends in with him in your apartment half-naked.

cw: smut, 18+, mdni, flirty!reader, mentions of being in bar and drinking, use of y/n, clueless!spencer, sub!spencer, softdom!reader, p in v, unprotected sex, reader rides spencer, spencer comes inside reader

wc: 2.7k

a/n: please like and reblog if you enjoyed! support is always appreciated<3 (i listened to smarty while writing this and im absolutely screaming.)

Spencer Reid had many strengths. He could recite the periodic table in under a minute, read 20,000 words per minute, and could quite literally remember every single word ever said to him in perfect detail. But when it came to social interactions?

Well.. He was a work in progress.

You had noticed it early on— how he hesitated before speaking, how he fumbled over his words when confronted with casual banter, how he shrank away from physical contact as if it burned him. It wasn't that he lacked intelligence, in fact, he quite literally was the definition of intelligence. The guy could outthink just about anyone. But social nuance? The art of casual confidence? That was definitely not his forte.

Which is why, one evening after work, you decided it was time to do something about it.

"You really are hopeless sometimes, you know that?" You said, leaning back against your desk as Spencer furrowed his eyebrows at you in confusion.

"I don't— what do you mean?"

You smirk, pointing toward the break corner, where a young woman from accounting had just left from, looking vaguely disappointed. "That girl was flirting with you, Genius."

Spencer blinked. "No she wasn't."

"Yes, she was."

"She asked if I liked tea," he said while rolling his eyes, as if that was somehow an airtight defense.

You groaned, shaking your head. "Spencer, she was looking for an excuse to speak to you. She was touching her hair, laughing at everything you said— even the things you said that weren't funny."

Spencer frowned. "I wasn't exactly trying to be funny."

"Exactly," you say, crossing your arms. "Which means she wasn't laughing at the joke. She was laughing because she liked you."

For a moment, Spencer just stared at her, eyes narrowing in thought as if he was cataloging this information for a further study and analysis. Then he suddenly sighed loudly. "Even if that were true, it's not like it matters. I'm not.. great at that kind of thing."

You tilted your head. "At what?"

"Flirting. Making conversation that isn't strictly informational. Even as a profiler I struggle reading people." He gave an awkward shrug. "Flirting isn't really a skill I ever needed."

You studied him for a moment before pushing off your desk. "Alright, that settles it. I'm making you my new project."

Spencers eyes widened slightly. "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm gonna teach you how to be more confident," you said with a smirk. "How to read body language of a person who isn't a serial killer, and how to hold a conversation without sounding like a Wikipedia page, and maybe even know how to throw a decent punch while we're at it."

He scoffed, though there was a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't need—"

"Yes, you do," you interrupted, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. "Come on, Boy Genius. We're getting drinks."

Spencer hesitated. "I don't really—"

"It's a lesson, not a date," you teased. "Unless you're scared."

That did it. He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders slightly. "I'm not scared."

"Good," you said, patting his arm. "Let's go then."

When you both arrived at the bar, it was quieter than most. It was a small spot near your apartment that you go to occasionally to decompress. Spencer had never been here before— not surprising, given that he rarely went anywhere that wasn't work related.

"You do realize I don't drink, right?" he asked as they slid into the booth.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that memo," you said, crossing your arms. "You can have water if you want, alcohol isn't exactly the point, it's the atmosphere around us."

He folded his arms together, looking skeptical at your words. "And what exactly am I supposed to learn here anyway?"

"Confidence, Reid. Social ease. You spend way too much time in your own head that you forget to live in the moment. So, here's your first ever lesson: stop overanalyzing."

He opened his mouth to argue, but you raise your finger to stop him. "Nope. Don't say anything. Just trust me on this."

Spencer exhaled heavily, looking vaguely pained in annoyance, but he nodded anyway. "Fine. What do I do then?"

You gestured to the bar. "Pick someone in the room and tell me what their body language says. C'mon, use those profiling skills to good use."

He listened, scanning the room, until they landed on a man at the bar nursing a whisky glass. "That guy is probably going through some kind of personal issue. His posture is slightly slouched, and his fingers are tense around his glass, and he hasn't checked his phone once, which most likely means he's avoiding calls or texts from someone or possibly has no one to even reach out to."

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Damn. Alright, expert profiler. Now, please do it with someone less miserable."

Spencers gaze shifted to a couple laughing together in a nearby table. "Well, the woman there is interested in the man, but he's clearly not picking it up that well. She's leaning towards him, angling her body to fully face him, but he keeps glancing away, distracted. Either he's oblivious, or not interested in the conversation at all."

You grin. "See? you're better at this than I thought."

Spencer huffed out a small laugh. "Observing is one thing. Applying it in real time is another."

"Okay, well then let's practice." you say, leaning froward slightly. "Tell me what my body language is saying."

Spencer hesitated for a moment. "You're.. teasing me."

"Obviously, Genius. What else?"

He studied you, his eyes darting over your posture, the way you rested your chin in your hand, and the slight smirk playing at your lips. "You're comfortable. Your body language is opened, relaxed. But you're also amused, probably at the fact you know I'm over thinking this."

You laughed. "Bingo!"

Something flickered in his eyes, something victorious, straightening a bit as he smiled.

"Alright," you said, finishing your martini. "Lesson one complete. Next up is casual confidence!"

Spencer groaned. "This is going to be painful."

"Excruciating," you said with a grin. "But trust me, Spencer. You will thank me later."

Over the next few weeks, your lessons continued on.

You taught Spencer how to hold eye contact without looking away in embarrassment, corrected his posture when he hunched over too much. Much to his horror, you even demonstrated how to casually brush someone's hand without making it completely awkward.

But somewhere throughout these lessons, things started to shift between the two of you.

It started out subtle at first. A glance that lasted a little too long. A touch that lingered a second past appropriate. The way you started to notice how his eyes crinkled when he was smiling, and how his voice softened just enough when he spoke to you.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it did.

Another normal evening, after a round of drinks, you both found yourselves outside of your apartment complex. It had surprisingly been a good night— Spencer had successfully navigated himself through a conversation with a stranger without stammering, and you were so damn proud of him.

"You're getting better at this," you nudged his arm as you both walked up the steps of your apartment building.

Spencer smiled, small but real. "You're a good teacher." he said as you both made it to your apartment door.

Something in the atmosphere changed in that very moment, the air charged with clear unspoken tension.

You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly, you were closer, looking up into his unreadable expression.

For a second, just a second, you wondered.

Then Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly, stepping back. "I should go."

You nodded quickly, shoving your hands into your pockets. "Yeah, yeah.. of course." you said disappointingly.

Neither of you said what you were thinking, and it was quite clear you didn't have to.

The were both wrong about this 'just being a 'lesson', and you both knew it.

As you heard his footsteps fade away, you quickly fumbled through your purse to find your keys. When you did, your hands shakily inserted the key into the keyhole as you unlocked the door.

When you finally entered, you let out a heavy sigh, removing your shoes at the entrance and putting them on a rack.

The door had just barely clicked shut before a loud knock echoed throughout your seemingly empty apartment.

You immediately froze, already knowing who was on the other side of the door.

Your heart thudded against your chest, your fingers curling around the doorknob. He didn't even enter, theres no way he left something behind— he never did anyway. He definitely didn't just come back to say goodnight either.

No, there was only one clear reason he was standing on the other side of your door.

Swallowing hard, you reached for the handle of your door, hesitating for a fraction of a second before pulling it open.

Spencer stood there, his expression unreadable, his breathing uneven and as if he had walked down the stairs and immediately ran back up. His hands were curled at his sides, and for once, he wasn't overthinking— he was only acting on his emotions.

Before you could speak or process anything, he leaped forward.

His hands found your face, fingers threading into your hair as his lips crashed against yours.

A startled gasp escaped your lips before you melted into his touch, your own hands gripping at his jacket to pull him in closer. It was desperate and certainly messy, all the built up tension from the past few weeks of lessons spilling over in one perfect, and reckless moment.

Spencer Reid —your best work partner and friend— was here, kissing you like he had been holding himself back from it far too long. And honestly, maybe he had.

He wasn't being shy now. There was no hesitation on either of your ends, no second guessing. His lips moved against yours like he had been studying the movement for years, like he memorized every possible way to make you feel like your knees could give out beneath you at any moment.

Your back hit the doorframe as he pressed closer, and eventually he pushed you inside, shutting the door. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, gripping your hips like he was afraid you might disappear if he were to let go.

But God, no, you were definitely not going anywhere.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, your fingers tugging at the soft curls that hung at the nape of his neck. He made a quiet, shuddering sounds at your contact, and you grinned against his lips before pulling back just enough for both your eyes to meet.

His pupils were completely wide, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he caught his breath.

"Spencer," you whispered softly, still catching your own breath.

His hands continued to tighten on your waist, like he wasn't ready to let go of you just yet.

"I was completely wrong," he admitted, his voice low, almost dazed.

You arched one of your brows in confusion. "About what?"

"About not having feelings for you." His thumb traced against your waist, tapping in nervousness. "About this just being a lesson."

You let out a breathless laugh. "Took you long enough, Genius."

He huffed, half exasperated and half relieved. "You knew?" he asked in confusion.

"Of course I knew. I was just waiting to see if you were gonna figure it out."

He shook his head while letting a soft chuckle escape his lips. He finally let himself lean back, being able to fully take you in now. "And what now?"

You smirked, reaching up to brush your thumb against his soft pink bottom lip, swollen from the kiss.

"Now," you said, tugging him back toward you. "I teach you everything else you haven't learned in lessons yet." you say, grinning as you start to pull him away from your door and onto your couch.

Spencer is at a complete loss, unsure of what to do as you straddle his lap. He gulps, his eyes glued to you as you remove your shirt, throwing it somewhere across the room.

As if he were just following your lead, he removes his own shirt, completely unsure of what to be doing. His stomach seems to be twisting in knots, the heat rising in his chest.

Your lips crash into his once again, sucking on his bottom lip as your hips move against his lap, your skirt lying against your thighs. You pull away, the friction overwhelming and just enough on its own. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, feeling his erection through his pants.

Spencer bites his lip, holding himself back from letting out a loud whine, or saying something embarrassing like 'holyfuckpleasejusttouchmealready'. Although, as hard as he tried, of course he was unsuccessful.

"I.. need you, Y/N.." he whimpers, panting heavily as you move.

"That's all I needed to hear, baby." you tease, your hands quickly making their way to the clasp of his belt, quickly unbuckling it. You then unzip his pants, but instead of immediately pulling his boxers down, you rub his cock through them.

This drives him nuts, making him let out a loud moan.

"Please, just.." he mumbles, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Please.. what?" you smirk, raising an eyebrow as you continue to move your hand, watching him as eyebrows furrow and his slick lips part.

"Just fuck me already!" Spencer begs, at this point almost screaming.

Although you wanted to tease him more, you could feel your own pussy throbbing as it quietly begged for the touch of the man beneath you. So instead, you smirk, allowing him to pull his boxers and pants down to his thighs.

You quickly scrapped your skirt, leaving you in just a pair of pink laced underwear. You look down at him, your own lips parted as you move your underwear to the side.

Suddenly, your hand takes his cock, slowly stroking it, before quickly speeding it up, making him moan in pleasure. "Holy— shit, Y/N.. Ah!—" he manages to sputter out, practically melting in your touch.

"Ready?" you ask, smirking down at him. He nods rapidly, not wanting to wait any longer.

At his approval, you lift yourself from his lap and position yourself above his cock, allowing it to hit your wet entrance. You groan in pleasure, feeling his tip slowly enter your pussy.

Eventually, his cock is all the way inside you, and you're bouncing up and down, feeling the warmth of him inside you as both your moans and slap of skin on skin filled your apartment.

"Fuck, Spencer... you feel— so good." you moan, stuttering as you continue to bounce on his cock, feeling him pulse inside you.

He rocks his hips, sliding in and out of you as you both begin to chase your high, sending Spencers mind reeling as he gasps.

"Is this okay?—" he asks, continuing to rock at a decent pace.

"Fuck, yes.. So good, Spence.." you answer, allowing the noises that are escaping your lips be the answer. "Shit.." you breathe out, "You're so fucking incredible, darling."

Spencer squints his eyes shut, feeling himself get driven closer and closer to the edge.

"Y/N.. 'M close.." he warns, beads of sweat rolling down from his forehead as he gets closer to coming.

"You gonna come for me Spencer?" you say with watery eyes, close yourself. "Look me in the eyes, baby." you demand him.

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours as you continue to fuck yourself into him, moaning in pleasure. You throw your head back, now your practically yelling out.

"Yes! Right there, Spencer! Come inside me!" you wail, your bodies now moving in synchronized motions.

This finally sends him through, jolts of electricity shooting through his body as he comes, legs shaking heavily as he fills you up with his sweet liquids.

You come soon after, moaning as the warmth of him inside you makes your own orgasm feel even better.

Eventually he pulls out, and your body finally gives out as collapse next to him, feeling empty without him inside you now.

"You better take me out after this." you tease, still catching your breath.

"Aw, do I have to? I wasn't planning on it." he jokes, chuckling as you smack his arm playfully.

"So, do you think my amazing lessons payed off then?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as you smile.

"Eh, I guess they were alright." he answers, zipping up his pants as he shrugs.

"Oh, c'mon!" you whine, defeated.

tags:

[boykingscourt]

"sam how do you not remember-" umm his OWN CHILDHOOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN???

[wewringmagicfromtheordinary]

#this this this THIS#i don't know how to read this scene other than as a man desperate not to lose the love of his life again#and willing to do anything to stop that from happening#if it's literally the LAST thing he does#i mean god when you stop to think about it#first steve had to watch him die#then HE died believing that bucky was gone#but at least steve was following him quickly enough right??#WRONG#because then it turns out that steve's not dead at all#he's back in the world and it's a world where bucky has been dead for some 65 years#and now steve has all the time in the world to really drown in that grief#and he does#he gets - i think - a little over two years of that#two years of mourning this loss#two. whole. fckin. years.#and then one day he discovers that bucky is very much alive but he's been put through the unimaginable#and only a couple of days later steve loses him AGAIN#and he spends TWO MORE YEARS without bucky#riddled with a new kind of grief and with plenty of guilt and desperate to find him#and now that steve HAS indeed managed to find him#AFTER EVERYTHING. AFTER ALL THIS TIME.#he's about to lose him all over again??????????#I WOULD HAVE LOST MY FCKIN MIND IF I WERE HIM LIKE LET'S BE REAL#yeah. yeah he's not letting go of that helicopter for anything#not even if it tears him apart#frankly i think letting go would tear him apart more than being literally split in two via rillils

I just don’t understand how literally any human looks at these two and this moment in particular and is like ‘yeah they’re platonic besties.’

Steve is literally breaking his body in half to keep his heart where it is. He’s 100% okay with being legitimately torn in half (you cannot tell me he knew he was strong enough to hold that thing there) because he can’t think of any other way to keep Bucky there and he can’t live letting him go again.

And Bucky, the Asset, the goddamn Winter Soldier, can’t comprehend who would love him that much or why, and also he’s 110% checking out those muscles (because DAMN, SON, we all were) and I just.

Platonic best friends?

[heresylog]

Hello! If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear your review of Conclave. God bless

I saw the movie over the Christmas holiday with my blood sister. I really enjoyed it. The cinematography was great. The actors were all amazing, including Carlos Diehz who was acting in his first major role.

Obviously, there will be spoilers below so please watch the film.

I didn't want the movie to end. Really, when Cardinal Benitez is voted as the newest Pope Innocence, it felt like the start of a new era. It so much reminded me of when Pope Francis was announced.

In reality, when Pope Francis became pope he did something quite provoking--he asked the crowds to bless him instead of the other way around. That type of attitude, respecting lay people and others, was very present in the film's portrayal of Cardinal Benitez. Of course, everything has to be simplified in movies since we don't have the benefit of watching hours long debates and political strife.

Despite the Catholic Church being the largest organized religion in the world, it's actually quite small once you are in. It's difficult to define what "in" is except when you experience it for yourself. And I don't just mean the world is small for priest, religious sisters and brothers, and the like. It's small for those of us who are deeply involved in the behind the scenes politics of it all. Because of the clear structure of power, everything you do on a parish (individual church) level affects the diocese, which affects the nation's assembly of bishops, which effects Rome. All of these wheels turn and the most ambitious priests become bishops and cardinals. Make waves but not too many. Everyone's watching. No one is watching.

Benitez must know this. But he is literally outside of it all. Despite being a bishop he was never in. He was a secret bishop stationed in a place dealing with war and real religious intolerance. He is able to put things into perspective.

That is why he does not politic with the others, why he acknowledges the sisters who prepare the food and wash their laundry. Benitez is thrust into this role by the former pope because he is the only unbiased, unambitious, hardworking person who is able to handle the job.

When you live in community with other religious individuals, it makes you more accountable. But sometimes it leads to resentments and feelings of inadequacy. It would have been very easy for Benitez to fall into feeling out of his depth but he takes everything in stride. He influences his peers to rise above their disgusting attitudes towards others and one another.

The shocking moment was not the reveal that he was intersex. Although I had been spoiled that there was an intersex character being portrayed, I did not know who it would be. I was shocked that it was shown on screen with such care that in years past may not have been.

Just an excellent movie. I recommend it to anyone religious or secular.

[slimepuparibaba]

Chaos in Linkon: AU where each of the LADS guys have an MC and also they all know each other

I want to make something like Chibi Linkon Report except it's with me and my friends and sisters MCs alongside the Love Interests and they all know each other

The MCs are like this:

Xavier's MC is one of the best sword wielders and an overall kind and caring hunter who helps people and is just as much a Disney Princess as Xavier who loves to garden and loves animals... but also she's a chronic insomniac and cannot sleep for her life, appears at Xavier's bedroom door like a sleep paralysis demon at 3AM, standing there silently, not wanting to wake him up so she just stands there. Her average amount of sleep is 1 hour. It's bad. It's really bad. Please help her. It's not even nightmares, it's just she literally cannot sleep.

Zayne's MC is seen as a role model in the workplace for her maturity, her poise, a reliable older sister figure to everyone... also she cannot taste anything, her taste buds don't work, so she likes the most extreme kind of food, accidentally gave Zayne the food she prepared for herself, it was way too fucking spicy to actual inhumane standards. Also, has a slight fear of doctors, just does not like visiting the hospital, going to checkups, etc. Zayne literally has to coax her for any of her check-ups with a date or a movie night after the fact. Her visits would be less frequent if she just stopped overworking herself so much (workaholic).

Rafayel's MC is beauty and grace, always wearing a smile and it's rare to see her upset about anything, a very cheerful person! She loves music, loves the ocean, perfect compliment to Rafayel! ...but also she is actually very scary, loves tragedy and horror and thrillers and slashers, and one time Rafayel walked in on her in the kitchen as she was holding a knife and there was red on her face (it was from some ketchup, but she looked terrifying). The moment she stops smiling is the day Linkon will be destroyed. Also, she cannot draw.

Sylus' MC is a temperamental girl that's sharp-tongued and strong-willed, as well as very headstrong. Sylus of Onychinus is her mortal enemy... until they're in a private space, then she's constantly seeking out his attention and getting pampered by him. Jumpy, actually a cat, and only fights Sylus because that's her love language apparently. She also has a corkboard in Onychinus' base solely for her insane ramblings about any conspiracies about Ever or the Aether Core and has lost sleep explaining it to him (and he just watches before putting her to bed).

Caleb's MC is the sweet, adorable little sister figure everyone loves, and is relatively shy at first glance but very friendly and a bit of a nerd! She also makes plushies for her friends! ...but also touch Caleb and you're dead. No, seriously, touch him and you're dead. She knows everything about Caleb, she has known him since they were kids, if anyone even thinks of hurting him or taking him away from her, they are dead. Touch him and you're dead. Did you know she made a plushie of him to keep her company while he was away, and that she stole one of his hoodies? And by one, we mean multiple? Do not touch her gege. Touch her gege and you're dead. That is her gege, her gege is hers, he is literally hers, she is just as much his as he is hers, do not fucking TOUCH HER GEGE—

Basically, all the girls are the same but also slightly different from their love interest. They compliment each other well.

Also the boys regularly hang out with the girls and it's funny because of how much of a found family all of them seem to be.

The girls all already see each other as sisters, so they're very close and like to spend time with one another. They give each other advice, drop by each other's apartments... they were all with each other during the initial days of the shelter due to being experimented on for the Aether Core (Yes, all of them have Aether Core fragments and are deemed Experiments 001-a, 001-b, 001-c, 001-d, and 001-e. They're part of the same Experiment Line due to their aether cores being so similar to each other.) Each girl has a super strong resonation with their partner. They can only exist in a universe where their partner is. This timeline is unique because all of them are now existing at once in one place at the same time, which is an abnormality and why Ever wants them so bad.

The boys "hate" each other with every fiber of their being, typically finding ways to insult each other or poke fun of someone. But also they all are definitely brothers in arms and do care for each other (somewhat, they would never admit it). Despite not knowing all the details, they know of each others' circumstances. All agree that if the time comes, they'd put aside their differences for the sake of their loved ones and try to reach a conclusion all of them would be satisfied with.

They're a mixed friend group that do hang out pretty often, and one of them somehow named themselves the "Aether Core Investigation Team".

I wanna post more about this AU and maybe make small drawings or comics of them cuz I just think it's fun.

Also Caleb mentioning there was an Experiment 001-f off-handedly to the guys and the guys immediately questioning who the fuck it is, where she went, as well as who their soul resonates with and why no one heard anything about them, only to say he was the only one who remembered they existed because all the others in the Experiment 001 line died and forgot. 001-f just randomly disappeared after that, so he does not know who they are or where they are anymore or if they even exist. AKA 001-f will be made once the 6th LI comes out and we finally coax one of our friends into finally playing the game.

ALSO FUN FACT: ALL MCS ARE NAMED AND HAVE BEEN MENTIONED SOMEWHERE ON AO3 BEFORE, BUT I WAS NOT THE ONE WHO WROTE ABOUT THEM! IT WAS MY SISTER! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA FIND OUT WHERE, IT'S A FIC FROM CALEB'S MC'S PERSPECTIVE :D

[kastalani123]

Not my usual content, but I just. I wanna ramble, ig.

Do you understand how baffled I was about how the vampire book, written by a man in 1897, is essentially a PSA about how important proper communication is?? Even after I scrolled through Tumblr, saw the memes, read people geeking out about the relationships (platonic and romantic) in Dracula, I was still caught off guard, because. Like. Everything in this book is about communication.

Sure, it's kind of a given, considering it's an epistolary novel partially made up of letters between the characters, but. I dunno. From Dracula controlling Johnathan's lettres, van Hellsing refusing to tell anyone shit, the men keeping Mina out of the loop, to Mina using her telepathic link with Dracula, it's. It's literally all about how important actually talking to each other and sharing information is. Fuck, throw in the fact that "Harker", Mina and Jonathan's, arguably the main characters, last name means "to listen"/"eavesdropper", and that the book is Mina's in-universe creation to help compile, organize, and share what they know about Dracula, and the book's very essence becomes centered around information-sharing!

And I just. The narrative punishes just about every secret hidden, every time the characters don't communicate. There's the obvious, Dracula keeping Johnathan from sending out letters for help and Mina getting bitten because the men leave her home alone, but also. Van Hellsing not telling Lucy's mom that the garlic flowers and closed windows and so on are the treatment and she is not to touch them is what kills Lucy and her mom! They maybe could have survived if he just told them what's happening/what he's doing! And even the godsdamned telegram he sends to Seward! If he had just addressed it properly (communicated to the telegram boy properly!) then Seward wouldn't have been late and maybe could have prevented the massacre!

There's also Jonathan's diary right after he finally reunites with Mina, and obviously Mina's whole ✨ thing ✨ with the diary during their wedding is like. Peak romance, but Johnathan doesn't fully get better until Mina reads and shares it with van Hellsing and van Hellsing assures Johnathan that he's not insane. Sure, it's an oversimplification of PTSD and healing and such, but it makes sense, especially if you consider communication and information sharing as a major theme! Only sharing his experiences, reading through them himself after blocking off the memories, is what heals him! He cannot get better without knowing what happened, and without others knowing what happened, because knowing and sharing is important.

Renfield's also an interesting case. I don't have the book with me right now to check, but as far as I remember, he tries to talk about Dracula, tries to get Seward to release him from the asylum so Dracula can't use him against Mina, but is dismissed entirely; as a consequence, Dracula gets in the building, kills Renfield, and bites Mina.

Even the language barriers! The villagers Johnathan meets on his way to Dracula's castle try so hard to warn him of the danger but they can't. They can't, because they don't speak enough of the same language, but they try so hard. But whatever does get through to Johnathan, such as that woman begging him to take the crucifix she gives him — that might've saved him. It keeps him unsettled and wary and he does keep the crucifix, which wards Dracula off. They can't communicate the full extent of the danger, but what they managed is probably responsible for him surviving.

And the whole idea is even mentioned in-text! Sure, Lucy saying that a wife ought to share everything she knows with her husband is definitely sexism-flavoured, but Johnathan says it too! He says that his idea of an ideal marriage is one without secrets! And Johnathan is effeminate, yes, he spends a good chunk of the book as the "damsel in distress", but he is still the hero! He is still the one who kills Dracula (with Quincey), and can therefore be assumed to be an intended role model. The (male) main character and hero of an 1897 novel says that a good relationship relies on communication. Sure, he doesn't always stick to it, mostly by agreeing to keep Mina out of the loop when van Hellsing pushes for it, but that doesn't discount that that is what Stoker set as the ideal.

I just. I love this book so much. It subverted just about all expectations I might've had about it and I'm so glad for it. It's undeniably a product of its time, with plenty of racism and sexism and ableism, but it's also so. Not, at the same time? It's so good.

[signanothername]

If Nightmare somehow got his claws on Cross what would he first do?

Oof Anon, I think the correct question to ask is what he would not do hcchchch

Think of it this way, MTT have one single.. “advantage” for a lack of a better word, to being Nightmare’s subordinates

And that is Nightmare’s refrain from physically harming them.. much

Cause Nightmare cares about the practicality of everything and wants his plans to run as smoothly as possible, he doesn’t rely upon physical abuse as much as mental abuse when it comes to MTT, and even then, Nightmare tries to refrain from breaking them mentally either, he needs them to stay as functional as possible for long periods of time, if he does go beyond the usual limits he puts for himself and does something drastic, it’s either because he’s sure he doesn’t need them to work for a good amount of time, his plans can run with one or two people short for a good while, or he completely lost composure and did harm them beyond what he meant to do (now what Nightmare considers drastic vs normal is a whole other story, MTT are abused regardless)

Cross, on the other hand, is not Nightmare’s subordinate, never has been, nor does Nightmare care to recruit him in any capacity at any point in time, whether present or future, not only because Nightmare already sees the three under him as enough, positions already filled up, but he doesn’t see Cross as anywhere near competent either, so even if Nightmare actually did want to recruit someone, it certainly wouldn’t be Cross

Cross doesn’t have that.. “advantage” is what I mean to say, Nightmare wouldn’t hold back from torturing him physically, emotionally and mentally, there is literally no figurative shield between him and Nightmare’s wrath, the moment Nightmare has his claws on him it’s pretty much over for Cross unless someone somehow manages to find Nightmare’s castle to break him out (pretty much impossible), anything horrific you can think of? He’d probably do it, slowly break every single bone in his body, make him relive every single traumatic event in his life, hell, if he can, bring in his loved ones to slowly torture and kill them in front of him as he helplessly watches, literally make Cross beg and scream for mercy till his voice becomes hoarse, mentally manipulating him to distort his sense of time and reality

All of that, just because of a single broken deal

Tho if I have to be specific, I think the very first thing I can imagine Nightmare doing to Cross is mentally breaking him (Nightmare generally prefers mental torture over physical torture anyway), how would he do that?

Make Cross relive the moment he killed his loved ones and erased his AU over and over again till Cross is nothing but a weeping mess.. and maybe at some point, if possible, actually recreate that traumatic event and make Cross actually kill his AU a second time

[almostswagkid]

A lot of people think that Gregor will betray us and join Hermann (forced or not doesn't matter rn). Which is actually very likely to happen, but let me suggest you different theory:

Gregor won't side with anyone. What I mean is that when Hermann will try to make him join her, knowing that he can't really resist, he'll instead betray both her and Limbus, locking himself up somewhere

Why I think that might happen is because it's kinda what happened in the book. So, if we're following that idea he might as well not just lock himself up, but also he might try to get rid of himself

But, knowing project moon (six years in the fandom after all, they're almost like a relatives to me at this point) they can do literally everything that no one in a hundred years could predict

On the side note, i feel like I'm going full conspiracy theorist mode + the fucking fortune teller. Because quite a lot of things in Limbus I predicted while I was talking w my homies. I mean, I know it's just a coincidence and I just randomly pointed in the sky and somehow shot right, it's nonetheless funny to me idk

And that's what a lack of lore about your fav roach man does to a person lmao

[lesbianalanwake]

Severance S2E3..... I'm chewing through drywall:

-- Natalie referred to the Board as "it"..... it? it??

-- speaking of that: Natalie? are you good?? how literal is the concept of speaking for the Board? Natalie??

-- Milchick packing away the box of paintings (and it doesn't quite fit.... girl....), and Cobel driving away from Helena's invitation to speak to the Board (sleeping in her car.... where is she driving to)..... obsessed with them and everything they do, actually. enemy of my enemy please god 🙏

-- Devon and Gretchen meeting the innie version of someone they love, and seeing how innocent/lost/earnest that person is, how they echo the person they know but less closed off and worn down..... Devon's face when she said Mark's a good egg, and Gretchen's face when Dylan G said he would make her proud..... oh I'm chewing through drywall AND glass. (the stark contrast to the contempt that Helena's father shows towards Helly..... ough)

-- the unhinged conversations between Cobel and Helena..... careful flat affect and measured tone while simmering with cold rage. makes me wonder if it's a "raised by Lumon" thing, which makes me wonder about Miss Huang and her impassive mannerisms..... Miss Huang get behind me. Dylan worrying about her.... 😢

-- Dr. Asal Reghabi's first in-person appearance: beat a man to death with a bat. Dr. Asal Reghabi's second in-person appearance: unsevered Mark's brain. what WILL she do next. how long did she work for Lumon? going to make a tentative guess that it might have been for quite some time, because she's got those funky off-putting ways of saying things, but she emotes a bit more than, say, Cobel. so maybe more of a Milchick type

-- Lumon wanting to edit Ricken's book.... trying to absorb and rewrite every part of the narrative in order to control it. a dumb out of touch self-help book, but it meant something in an environment stripped of most anything else, just like Miss Casey's "wellness" sessions meant something to the goat people. scraps of some kind of meaning, and now getting twisted and taken away. I am actually sick in the head over it

-- we have GOT to get a copy of The Body Keeps The Score down there to them next

-- that has to be Helena because 1) we don't spend time with her that isn't driven by another character, and 2) Irving's instincts. and girl must have studied the security footage closely because she's got a lot of Helly's mannerisms.... but not all of them, and so much of what she does is stilted or subdued. even the register of her voice isn't quite right. studying Britt Lower's microexpressions and body language under a microscope like who ARE you

-- Reghabi talking about 5 brain waves while the macrodata files emphasize the number 4..... chewing thoughtfully on it..... the input survey also has 5 questions. is this anything

-- also pondering how Reghabi says the only way for Mark to get information in and out of the severed floor is through reintegration. locked down tight with code detectors, and an afterimage is too ephemeral, but information is encoded within the brain, and that can't be locked down so tightly despite every effort to control it.... you carry it with you.... the body keeps the score

[brazenautomaton]

No. No I would not.

The fact that you hate him and hate his politics and think his politics are too right-wing does not mean he is a nazi sympathizer. It is more important to believe things that are true than things that are mean. "You are a nazi sympathizer" is #2 on the ranking of things that are mean more than they are true, while #1 is "You are a nazi." This statement is not "literally never true" when it comes from Anglosphere progressives, but the amount of times it is true amount to a rounding error.

What also amounts to a rounding error is "the amount of power and support Nazis are able to offer." Being a Nazi is, quoting Scott Alexander's "You Are Still Crying Wolf" post, the most unpopular thing it is possible to think. The white supremacist bloc is the least valuable bloc to seekt he support of in America, and the people who think otherwise are progressives who win leftiter-than-thou pissing matches by exaggerating how evil their opponents are and how hopeless everything is. Your assessment of how numerous and powerful American nazis are is, like, three layers deep of people grotesquely exaggerating how powerful nazis are in order to win a leftier-than-thou pissing match.

Every single thing you are saying is exactly how conspiracy fantasists need the world to work.

Qanon believes that the politicans they hate constantly send coded messages to signal how evil they are and how they love child molestation and appeal to child molesters and seek the support of child molesters. They believe that their opponents do this to taunt the people they have power over with their inability to stop them. They claim the symbols are so obvious that it barely even counts as a "coded" message and constantly claim these are blatant admissions despite a very obvious innocuous explanation. They claim that this should be obvious because the powerful people in the world support and loves child molestation so much, so clearly this is the correct interpretation, despite this assessment of the world being based in exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences.

Alex Jones believes that the public figures he hates constantly send coded messages to signal how evil they are and how they plan to crush and oppress all freedom-loving people with their globalist NWO. He believes that his opponents do this to taunt the people they have power over with their inability to stop them. He claims the symbols are so obvious that it barely even counts as a "coded" message and constantly claims these are blatant admissions despite a very obvious innocuous explanation. He claims this should be obvious because the globalist NWO controls everything to send these messages, so clearly this is the correct intrerpretation, despite this assessment of the world being based in exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences.

Christian Dominionists believe that the public figures they hate constantly send coded messages to signal how evil they are and how they love Satan and appeal to Satanists and seek the support of Satanists. They believe that their opponents do this to taunt the people they have power over with their inability to stop them. They claim the symbols are so obvious that it barely even counts as a "coded" message and constantly claim these are blatant admissions despite a very obvious innocuous explanation. They claim that this should be obvious because the powerful people in the world hate Christ so much and never stop oppressing Christians, so clearly this is the correct interpretation, despite this assessment of the world being based in exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences.

And now, progressives believe that a public figure they hate sent a coded message to signal how evil he is and how he loves Nazis and sympathizes with Nazis and seeks the support of Nazis. They believe that their opponent did this to taunt the people he has power over with their inability to stop them. They claim the symbol is so obvious that it barely even counts as a "coded" message and constantly claim this was a blatant admission despite a very obvious innocuous explanation. They claim that this should be obvious because Nazis in America are so incredibly powerful and dominant and omnipresent, so clearly this is the correct interpretation, despite this assessment of the world being based in exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences from exaggerated inferences.

But wait, there's one more twist with that last one that doesn't apply to the other conspiracy fantasies! The qanon people, Alex Jones listeners, and Christian Dominionists haven't all just proven they don't get to have an opinion on any of the things they claim are threatening to them. Progressives, after tonguing Hamas's asshole and celebrating the murder of someone because they think murdering people will improve the world, no longer get to have an opinion on who is an evil fascist nazi.

what’s with you and the Elon thing?

if anyone did that gesture in basically any scenario it’d be seen as questionable at best. I don’t think he’s necessarily a crypto-nazi, but I do think it was an intentional statement of edgelord-ism to rile people up

Why are you going to bat for this guy? It can’t just be contrarianism, you seem genuinely passionate.

personally, I’m no friend of the SJ people, but I don’t think they’re crying wolf this time. Im not sure how to prove my truthfulness, but I was strongly against eg: 2020 BLM, defund the police, Daniel Penny arrest, and so on.

it is more important to believe things that are true than it is to believe things that are mean, even if they are mean about someone you don't like

any situation in which a large group of people are belligerently declaring "How dare you say we should believe things that are true instead of things that are mean! Anyone who cares about anything other than believing things that are mean is despicable and should be destroyed!" is a bad one

people are aggressively, openly, proudly throwing away all capacity for reason, and winning because they are inherently entitled to win for doing that. this makes me sad.

[carlarosenakilah]

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

[sofixt0k]

Can you explain to me why the monologue was a lie? I mean, I am 1000% open

Honestly, I don't have it at hand right now, but I'll try to answer you with what I have in mind, if I'm wrong about something, correct me!

• The first thing I want to highlight from all this is the intentions with which they superficially give us the monologue, which you would quickly reach the conclusion that this is finally Mike opening his heart... But is this true?

• Another point I want to make clear is that Mike loves Eleven, he OBVIOUSLY cares about her, but are these romantic feelings?

• The monologue was a product of the situation they were in, Mike desperately needing a way to help, and him thinking after hearing everything Will said in the van, that Eleven needs him.

• That's where it all starts off badly, because it's Mike responding to words that aren't even Eleven's, but rather Will's feelings, and that, adding Will behind him as support for him to say something he hasn't said is... It's weird, it's a very weird decision to include a character's "unrequited love" to save a relationship, or the world with this relationship, whatever... This is not how you write a story of unrequited love.

• What has always made me think that Mike lie is with the ease (at least ease of speech, because him face looks tragic) when he start to say one I love you after another I love you and I love you, I love you... It used to not be hard to tell if she really feels it, you know? It's no excuse to say he was born into a loveless home (although that's not exactly accurate either) when literally Eleven was raised in a lab.

• The words that Mike says in general seem very basic to me, and they confirm the fact that when he is in that relationship he does not separate Eleven from her powers. And from Eleven's expressions throughout the monologue we know that the last thing she needed to hear was all that. And here we go, Eleven trying to save the world and all of Mike's words are encouraging his powers?, mhm...

• Mike's life didn't start when he met Eleven. He had already made a plan to have her sent back to an asylum, which ended up not being carried out when it turned out to be helpful in finding Will.

• The fact that after that monologue they practically didn't talk to each other only shows that Eleven knows, he lied.

There could be more points but these are my main reasons for saying that he lied!

If anyone disagrees with something feel free to comment and share ideas!

[iamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

Took me a while because I literally did everyone lol, so here we have:

Obey me characters and their fashion styles Pt. 2

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shi- This is part 2 as there is the stupid 3 gifs/images per post limit

Pt 1.

Solomon

Only has one proper fit in his closet that he put together everything else was bought and put together for him by Asmo

Has little interest in fashion and with the years blurring by in his human mind has lost track of what is actually fashionable so can't really dress properly outside of suit and tie events since there isn't much variations in that

Always in something that covers his body because he dislikes showing off his pact marks and whatever scars he has on his body

Despite this all his clothes are breathable and doesn't overheat him, he overheats often very easily and just uses magic to seem unbothered but he wears breathable clothing to avoid one more chore

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking like a damned hot mess never let him actually dress you, let him put in opinions and give out ideas but never let him actually dress you!

Diavolo

On par with Lucifer with the fact that he can only dress formally properly as he's been having to do it forever

His difference is that casual clothing (on the rare occasions that is) is a mix of Lucifer's casual and Solomon's fashion sense because he doesn't get to dress casual often and refuses to let Barbatos find something suitable for him to wear

Really likes themed clothing though and will try and force Lucifer or even push Barbatos to wear matching clothing with him Mephibfrebchd wishes he could be like that with Diavolo

Compared to Solomon though Diavolo is more on the cringe leaning side and will gladly look like a pair of dads with Lucifer and wear Hawaiian shirts with khakis

Even with his bad fashion sense it's hard to make fun of him or even tell him it sucks because what do you mean you're gonna bully someone who rarely ever gets the freedom to be chill and choose his own stuff and rarely gets a chance to wear these crappy casual clothing? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????

Let him dress you and you'll come out wearing some matching cringe shit with him, yes it's gonna be embarrassing but on the bright side not only did the King of Hell dress you but you're matching with him! Anyone who makes fun of you is also making fun of the king so they better get ready to grovel for forgiveness

Barbatos

The king of formal wear

Despite this he does know how to dress casual and for any event and how to not look weird either

He has to as he dresses Diavolo and has been taking care of him from since forever

He's just simply one hell of a butler

His no specific style outside of not really being fond of clothing that may show his body

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking in the most ideal way of your style, he's a butler that caters to other's needs so he knows how to dress people to their tastes!

Though if you let him dress you how'd he like you to look you'll come out looking like a royal or a noble as  that is what you are to him

Simeon

(Btw why does he dress like a slut)

Has a very casual sense of style tbh, not too formal but not too cozy and lazy, the perfect middle

Though I'd have to say most of his clothes has no sleeves, he has a weird problem with sleeves on his clothing though he will wear them to be appropriate.

Enjoys the fact that heaven gives them stuff to wear cause he actually dislikes finding outfits

Despite this the king of casual comfy clothing like the first fit you try you love immediately 

Let him dress you and you'll come out in an outfit that you'll often wear cause it's so good

Luke

I feel like dressing with him would be like dress up time with a child

Doesn't know much about fashion since that is not something to be focused on in Heaven and I'm pretty sure they restricted for what they can wear

Has the innate ability to pick out very cute looking clothing though it may not always be comfortable sadly

Dresses in the cute shota fashion, think like Mitsukuni Haninozuka from Ouran Host Club

Is fine dressing in any color but likes dressing in pastel colors the most outside of any shade of blue and yellow

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking adorable! like so cute, very cute and probably matching with him.

Raphael

(Why is he dressed even sluttier????? WHY IS ASMO MORE DRESSED THAN BOTH OF THE ADULT ANGELS 90 OF THE TIME??? IS HEAVEN A STRIP CLUB????????)

If we think Solomon was bad Raphael is 10x worse because at least Solomon has an idea of what he thinks is cool and what is fashionable even if it sucks Raphael has no idea or care

All outfits chosen by himself is weird and uncoordinated or similar to his regular fit so almost everything for the world to see

Constantly manages to find the most comfortable clothes you can possibly find also, so though he looks weird he's comfy

Actually prefers to have as much skin out as possible as it makes it easier for him to move around and fight if needed

Hates clothing that fully covers his skin and it makes him feel stifled, prefers stuff that isn't close to his skin (he just like me fr)

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking veryyyyyy funky but very mobile and somehow very comfortable, demons stare at you and tell you that "you have a unique sense of fashion" and you have to let them know that you let the "Angel with the Spear dressed you today" and suddenly they understand and are sorry for you

Thirteen

Thirteen is an amazing fashionista and has an amazing sense of style

I'm sure you can tell by her personalized reaper uniform and R.A.D. uniform but she loves alt styles 

All her clothing is different and ranges from comfortable to non comfortable but most are comfortable because it's supposed to be something she likes

Also doesn't care much for how much of her body is exposed but prefers to always carry some sort of sweater she likes her arms covered but doesn't always care for sleeves or long gloves (she's just like me fr)

Go to a thrift shop with her and she'll find the coolest and comfiest stuff to wear

Let her dress you and you'll come out looking so fucking cool, you'll look like those people on magazines or that cool alt person you see that you add to your pinterest board

Mephihdewuhcds Mephistopheles

On the same level of dressing as Lucifer and Diavolo (simp) but when asked to dress down dresses like a prep kid

The brands on this man radiates so much money that Mammon's mouth waters and you look like a walking cash bag to him

Most of his clothing is very uncomfortable but he's just gotten used to it (I personally believe he comes from a shitty noble family hence why he's so stuck up) so comfy clothing is foreign and weird to him

Does not know how to dress casual (even in rich branded clothing) as the average person may see it, and is very uncomfortable in casual clothing because of his upbringing

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking similar to how Satan would dress you, a prep student that aces all their exams! (though the clothes may be a bit uncomfortable)

Tags:@kisakis-boyfriend