#:: headcanons :: <— details & history

[nordickies]

Remember when I used to make headcanon masterposts? Yeah, me neither, but here we go again! I don’t often get the chance to talk about Norway in depth, but he has been at the forefront of my mind lately. So I thought, why not bring my thoughts together in the form of a very long masterpost? This masterpost is packed with big and small ideas about his character that shape the way I personally write him.

I tried to gather everything I could think of, though I’m sure I’ve forgotten something along the way. I’ll happily update the list later. If people are interested, I’d love to finish similar posts for the rest of the Nordics as well as revisit some of the older ones!

So, without further ado, brace yourself and read the whole list below!

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Introduction

Norway’s human name is Sigurd Nordvik, and Mr. Norway (Herr Norge) is the title by which he is formally addressed. However, he doesn’t really care about official titles and prefers people to call him Norway or Norge. Sometimes his closest friends may use the human nickname "Sigge." In the past, he was called Sigurðr — or Siward in English. Sjur Ødegård has often been his go-to alias.

His chosen birthday is the 17th of May (Norway’s Constitution Day), but he has never been the type to celebrate himself. He prefers to keep the day as a celebration for his country and its people. He likes rotating the type of bunad he wears every year, and he heads to the streets to celebrate together with his people.

He speaks Norwegian and English, and due to his close relationship with his neighbors, he can speak Swedish and Danish too — though hesitantly, only when necessary. In the past, he spoke Old Norse, Latin, German, and French. However, he has since forgotten most of these languages and is no longer able to communicate through them efficiently.

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Appearance

Sigurd has light grey eyes, reminiscent of mountain bedrock or morning fog. His head is long and narrow. He has a slightly bumpy, downturned nose, hollow cheeks, and a relaxed, expressionless face. His lips are thin, his eyes narrow, and his wavy, light blonde hair falls just to his neck, a little unkempt. A modest amount of facial and body hair adds to his understated ruggedness. His skin is pale but reactive, quick to flush in the cold wind, burn in the sun, or betray his mysterious image during heightened emotions. He's naturally quite thin and in fit shape due to his hobbies. He's tall, around 185 cm.

Sigurd doesn't outshine with his sense of fashion, dressing for convenience rather than looks. While he owns plenty of well-fitted suits and tailored longer coats for the occasions that call for them, he feels most like himself in chunky wool sweaters and hiking trousers, fit for the weather for the majority of the year. He seems to avoid bright colors, except red, but he loves detailed colorwork knits. He's frugal when it comes to many things and thus still knits his own sweaters. He claims he doesn't want to waste money on items he could easily make himself, and he certainly has similar sweaters in many variations in his closet. But, in contradictory fashion, he'll wear insanely expensive outdoor gear, technical boots, and windproof jackets without seeing any problem in subtly flexing through them.

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Personality

Sigurd is a reliable, composed, and trustworthy person in any situation — the kind of friend you want to keep in your life. His honest yet genuine demeanor tends to leave a lasting impression, and he’s generally viewed in a very positive light. Though Sigurd is quiet and mysterious, his presence tends to spark curiosity rather than intimidation. Everyone wants to claim him as their best friend.

Naturally reserved, he can sometimes come across as distant or emotionally cold. However, he simply prefers to keep to himself, avoid bothering others, and not stand out too much. Sigurd makes a conscious effort to be respectful, often avoiding situations that could feel awkward for either party, so he tends to keep his social interactions formal and brief. Social settings overwhelm him easily, and if given the chance, he’ll quietly slip away before anyone even notices or makes a big deal out of it.

Emotionally, Sigurd is guarded. He struggles to express his feelings out loud, fearing they’ll be used against him or cause worry for others. He's used to being the sensible one, calming others down or offering a voice of reason. Sigurd being in a position where he’s the one needing help feels foreign to him. But once he’s drunk, he’ll open up more than usual, only to be hit with crushing embarrassment the next day for letting his guard down. He’s painfully shy around strangers and tends to overthink social interactions, worrying he’ll reveal too much. But to those who earn his trust, he reveals a gentler, more thoughtful side. He’s among the first to notice when someone is unwell, silently checking in—even if his concern comes out as awkward teasing. He cares deeply about his family and friends.

Still, beneath the stoic surface lies a playful spirit. Sigurd is a subtle trickster — fond of poking or teasing those he's close to, and dropping dry, sarcastic remarks with perfect timing. He pretends not to care, but he thrives on attention, especially after years of feeling like the forgotten player in their group. He secretly loves being talked about, praised, and even admired, though he quickly shuts down compliments. Still, he tends to view himself through his flaws rather than his strengths. Sigurd believes there are only a few things he’s truly talented at. When he falls short of his impossibly high standards, it feels like a crushing failure of his entire being. Despite his insecurities, Sigurd takes pride in his achievements. He’ll brag (modestly, but often) when things go well, especially if he wins something. He does his job well, always on time, and with quiet perfectionism that is often underappreciated.

Sigurd lives at his own pace, content without chasing flashy or grand goals. He’s outdoorsy, self-reliant, and focused on himself. You could say he's health-conscious due to many health-related issues in the past. But sometimes, he becomes overly fixated on it, especially during times of stress, to the point of overworking or limiting himself harshly. His relationship with money is also complicated. He’s used to surviving on very little, so even spending on small comforts can feel indulgent. He sometimes gets uncomfortable when people comment on his country’s wealth, fearing they’ll judge him personally because of it. As a result, he often steers the conversation away from the topic. Sigurd is snarky and elusive, the kind of person who could lie with a straight face if he wanted to. He's particularly skilled at keeping things about himself tightly under wraps, making him incredibly hard to read. He often projects calm and composure even when he’s unraveling inside. If anyone were built to be a manipulator, it would be Sigurd. But thankfully for those around him, he’s not malicious.

Sigurd’s emotional world is buried deep, shaped by experiences he rarely speaks of — tucked behind layers of dry humor and thoughtful silence. Perhaps because of this, he often drifts from the present, dissociating, his mind slipping into daydreams. Sometimes, he imagines fantastical scenes, far removed from the noise of everyday life. When faced with complicated emotions, Sigurd retreats into his head, withdrawing from others. Without a healthy outlet, his bottled-up feelings tend to leak out sideways — through excessive sarcasm, bullying, or self-sabotage. Left to his own devices for too long, Sigurd can grow apathetic and cynical, sinking into depression. That’s why he needs people who won’t give up on him, people who keep reaching out, even when his instinct is to push them away.

Sigurd’s emotional wounds surface in his relationships. He has trust issues, and his first instinct is to build walls when he fears getting hurt. Letting people in doesn’t come naturally to him. His past unions weren’t exactly unhappy, but they lacked mutual respect, leaving him feeling unimportant. His opinions and feelings were rarely considered in decision-making. Those experiences left a mark, making him doubt the idea of real love for someone like him. In his eyes, marriage between Nations has always been more political than personal.

Mysterious, humble, and sincere could all be words to describe Sigurd. He brings a calming presence but with a layer of sharp wit. His kindness is subtle but ever-present, tucked beneath layers of sarcasm, shy smiles, and a masked desire to be seen.

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Lifestyle

Sigurd resides in Oslo due to the capital's role as the center of politics and entertainment, but he has previously lived in Bergen and Nidaros (Trondheim). When he has time off, he retreats to his mountain cabin to recharge. However, he sometimes has to deal with unexpected guests when his family also wants to enjoy a picturesque cabin weekend. It’s partly Sigurd’s own fault for wanting to be nice and offering the cabin for others to use whenever they want.

Sigurd's house is a bit chilly and serene, to the point where you can hear the old clock ticking through the halls or the walls cracking on the coldest winter days. The muted colors, a rocking chair, and large wooden cupboards all add to the tranquil atmosphere. He has a lot of old furniture he’s either kept or discovered in vintage shops. Both his house and cabin are filled with books and worn-down furniture he hasn’t dared to get rid of. He rarely buys new things as long as the old ones still work. When the silence stretches too long, he finds himself showing up unannounced at Björn’s or Magnus’ place (and raiding their pantries, calling it harrytur). The trio jokes that Sigurd is like a household cat — aloof and low-maintenance, but always returning when he wants warmth or food.

Still, Sigurd’s adventurous side doesn’t let him stay a hermit at home for too long. He’s well-traveled and deeply curious about other cultures. If he disappears for a while, he’s likely off-grid, hiking in jungles or trekking through remote landscapes. There’s hardly a place left on Earth he hasn’t visited — not even Antarctica. He’s terrible at keeping in touch or letting people know when he’s leaving, but they trust he’ll return home safely with new stories and the same worn backpack.

Sigurd has a strong, almost spiritual connection to nature. It means everything to him, and he’ll go stir-crazy if forced to stay indoors — even when he’s sick or injured. He genuinely believes in folkloric creatures like trolls, fairies, and elves, and he’s careful not to disturb rocks or trees out of respect for them. He’s passionate about environmental preservation and fascinated by Norse mythology and sagas. While he doesn’t publicly identify as a practicing pagan, he occasionally dabbles in folk magic. These interests, along with his deeply introverted habits and daydreaming nature, make him feel like someone stuck in another time. His brothers don't waste the opportunity to call him plain odd because of it, though.

Sigurd lives an active lifestyle. He skis, runs marathons, sails, and fishes — again subtly flexing with his high-quality fishing and hiking gear and regularly making trips to the northern wilderness. Back home, he goes for morning runs before sunrise, wearing reflective gear and a headlamp, preferring the peace of empty trails. In winter, he swaps running shoes for skis. Sigurd is sometimes seen as a kind of patron of sports, being the face of campaigns encouraging people of all ages to stay active. He loves attending sporting events and is always touched when asked to present awards and give speeches. He’s especially proud of working with youth sports organizations and anti-bullying campaigns.

Despite appearing like the poster boy for healthy living, Sigurd’s diet is another story. He survives on a strange mix of comfort foods — sugar-free cola, tacos, waffles, and frozen pizza, to name a few. He’s a decent cook but rarely strays from the few meals he enjoys. He’s not big on sweets, but he won’t turn down a piece of kransekake or anything almond-flavored. However, during hikes, he must carry a chocolate bar with him, which he'll open at the top of the mountain, resting for a moment and taking in the stunning view.

Sigurd also has a rich musical side — he plays the violin. In his youth, he would entertain others with his fiddle, providing atmosphere for celebrations. But most importantly, the instrument was a tool through which he could hone his skills and earn recognition. These days, he’s fascinated by electric violins. Sigurd enjoys emotional rock ballads and epic instrumental music. But once he’s drunk, he’ll sing along to Norwegian party songs with all his heart. He can become quite the loud party animal when intoxicated — but firmly denies it if teased.

Sigurd’s speaking voice is calm and airy, and he has a beautiful, soft singing voice. He has even been asked to narrate audiobooks of Norwegian literature classics. In quieter moments, he enjoys knitting and watching odd TV shows while curled up in his chilly living room. He developed an interest in roleplay and fantasy games in the 1970s and would gladly do it more often with the right group of friends. He’s also a cat person and adores kittens. He has two Norwegian Forest cats named Olaf and Mons.

As the youngest of the three brothers, Sigurd sometimes struggles with being compared to Magnus or Björn, becoming visibly upset and defensive about it. During his childhood, he had to fight for attention just to be seen and valued, but he rarely received the recognition that his brothers often did. Maybe that’s why he’s so fiercely competitive. Sigurd is always ready to join a friendly sports match — so long as he thinks he has a shot at winning. Even the most peaceful beach day tends to turn into a spontaneous contest, with Sigurd pestering someone to time his swim to settle once and for all whether he’s faster than Magnus or Björn. The same applies to chess, which Sigurd is insanely good at, or other strategic board games. Game nights in their family can thus turn rather chaotic very fast.

Sigurd isn’t particularly tidy either. After long fishing or hiking trips, he’ll barge into Björn’s place and flop onto the couch without a second thought, opening a bag of chips, still covered in travel grime. Naturally, Björn whines at him about it. But in true Sigurd fashion, he just shrugs and grins, teasing his way out of the scolding.

Sigurd’s view of his own immortality has shifted over the years, but his role as a representative of Norway has always given him a sense of purpose and motivation. He’s had bad experiences with other immortals, so he tends to seek meaning and comfort in his work — representing something he truly values. He wants to focus on what matters to him, finally pursuing his own goals instead of being held back by others. His job has strengthened his sense of self and purpose. While his responsibilities can feel limiting at times, he can recognize his immortality's nuances and appreciate the good sides of it.

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Relationships

Sigurd is a reserved guy who doesn't have many deep friendships outside of his family. Most of the time, he hangs out with Björn — which is maybe a bit embarrassing for him. Sigurd doesn't like parties or big social gatherings, as he feels most people end up invading his personal space, thus making him uncomfortable. Also, his social battery runs out extremely fast. While he prefers to keep to himself, he has a strange kind of charm that draws people to him.

With such a massive coastline, Sigurd sees the Atlantic as his home and has good relations with fellow Atlantic nations. He has traveled far and wide, and generally, the Commonwealth countries have been friendly toward him, often allying with him on various matters. He sometimes goes on skiing trips with Switzerland, Liechtenstein, or Austria, as they bond over mountains and ski-related sports. They get along surprisingly well, as long as Sigurd’s silence doesn’t bother them. New Zealand is another outdoor enthusiast Sigurd gets along with — an unlikely friend from the other side of the globe.

Sigurd is usually the first to point out that Björn and Magnus have gotten old and aren't nearly as fun as they used to be. Perhaps he just doesn’t like being reminded of the passage of time or of how comfortably others have settled into ordinary lives. He feels like he’s only just now gotten his own life on track! The idea of having children or getting married doesn’t appeal to him at all. These days, he cherishes his freedom and self-reliance, which he desperately aspired for so long.

Sweden / Björn The core aspect of Sigurd's and Björn's dynamic is the love-hate relationship. They love to annoy the hell out of their söta bror, their sweet brother. They’ll nag each other nonstop and drive one another crazy all day, yet still spend the night talking, braiding each other's hair, and falling asleep in the same bed. At the same time, they constantly mock each other for being copycats, always blaming the other for mimicking their style or stealing their stuff. After all, what’s worse than being constantly compared to your sibling? Björn and Sigurd grew relatively close and spent a lot of time together growing up. They were just as competitive then as they are now; it’s definitely a trait that developed in their childhood. Both had to make do with limited resources, so competition was sometimes necessary, maybe even encouraged. Nowadays, they’ll compare anything: who has the better car, the greener yard, more birthday wishes on social media. They never seem to tire of the comparisons, though everyone else around them certainly does. But truthfully, they’d do anything for one another if it came down to it; their nagging is just a weird combination of their love languages. While they complain about the other’s incompetence and lack of brains, they still show up when needed, no questions asked. They just can’t bring themselves to admit they care; it’s too corny, not their style at all. They’ve been in various unions throughout history, though rarely by choice. Those unions have definitely left a mark, and there have been times when their relationship was seriously strained. While Sigurd usually ends up being the voice of reason around Magnus and keeps an eye on him, with Björn, he lets himself be unapologetically bothersome. Björn sometimes calls Sigurd slow and out of touch, like he’s stuck a few centuries behind. Björn can be nitpicky and meticulous, which drives Sigurd crazy. To Sigurd, Björn is a perfectionist who’s always trying to keep up appearances, even during the worst of times. Even now, Björn has a tendency to meddle in other people’s business; Björn might scold Sigurd for how he treats his little brother Eiríkur, but Sigurd will snap back and tell him it’s none of his business. On the flip side, Sigurd’s free-spirited nature and lack of structure drive Björn mad. Sigurd is strong-willed and hard to cooperate with once his mind is set on something. He’s opinionated but keeps things bottled up, which leads to spiteful and inconsiderate behavior when things don’t go his way. His antisocial tendencies and bluntness can be frustrating and even embarrassing for Björn, especially since Björn himself is so conflict-avoidant and tries to keep everyone happy. Despite those unions, however strained, they have created a strange dependency between them. Even when they’re at odds, they try to understand what the other is going through, comforting each other at their worst. Their interests and hobbies are pretty similar, so it’s no surprise they spend so much of their free time together. Neither of them does well in big crowds, and they both deeply appreciate the calm, casual atmosphere they share when it’s just the two of them. They can sit in silence doing nothing, and that’s more than enough. Though Sigurd still occasionally tries to inject a little adventure into his brother’s routine. Nature is their shared escape, and they go hiking, skiing, or kayaking when they can. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Denmark / Magnus Magnus and Sigurd still share a deep emotional bond that's unique to them. They’re able to speak rather openly about their worries and offer each other genuine advice. Magnus relies on Sigurd and holds him in high regard, being the best friend Magnus would trust with his life. Sigurd, on the other hand, doesn’t quite share the same enthusiastic view. He keeps his distance when he can and doesn't always give in to Magnus’s wild proposals. Still, Magnus sees Sigurd as a constant in his life, someone who always has his back, no matter what. Magnus can get lost in his own world at times, forgetting things or getting distracted, so Sigurd ends up following behind to clean up the mess — just as he always has. It annoys Sigurd, but he knows Magnus doesn’t do it out of selfishness, and he’s learned to live with it. Together, Magnus and Sigurd are something of a comedic duo. Magnus's wild schemes test Sigurd's patience every single time and put them on some kind of adventure. Sigurd has learned to say "Magnus, no" almost instinctively to everything, but if nothing else, he keeps an eye to ensure Magnus doesn't get into too much trouble. Whenever Sigurd helps him out of a mess, Magnus showers him with gratitude—until he inevitably drags Sigurd back into his mess again. That’s probably why Magnus instinctively turns to Sigurd with every problem, even when it would make more sense to ask Björn. Only Sigurd seems to know how to talk him down and help him understand even the messiest of situations. Magnus tends to worry on Sigurd’s behalf — a habit Sigurd doesn’t appreciate due to past experiences with Magnus’s more controlling tendencies. But Magnus’s intentions are good; he simply wants to help and offer support. Accepting that help, though, is a real challenge for Sigurd. Magnus knows Sigurd has a tendency to bottle things up and fall into depressive episodes, and it’s something he’s quietly concerned about. He tries to keep Sigurd’s spirits up and remind him of the brighter side of life. They often visit each other’s places, though for entirely different reasons, and as a result, they end up spending a lot of time together. Sigurd often thinks Magnus’s way of doing things is ridiculous — but he gets a good laugh when he puts Magnus on skis or drags him up a mountain, watching him struggle through the harsh winter terrain. Magnus, for his part, is just happy to be entertaining. Sigurd cares about Magnus, too, in his own quiet way. He’s just learned to set boundaries so Magnus doesn’t walk all over him. He knows how much he means to Magnus, so he can’t bring himself to be too cold or dismissive. He’ll help when asked but won’t hesitate to scold Magnus to keep him in check. Magnus knows he wasn’t always the best to Sigurd in the past, so he tends to be pretty laid-back when Sigurd teases or mocks him. As much as Sigurd has had to put up with Magnus, he doesn’t hold a grudge—not even when he easily could. They’ve worked through their past issues more than once and, for the most part, moved on. And no matter how much Sigurd complains about Magnus’s constant presence in his life, he always answers the phone when Magnus calls—and always shows up when asked. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Finland / Timo Sigurd and Timo get along remarkably well, sharing a number of common interests, like winter sports and music, that give them easy ground to bond over. Sigurd is unusually generous with Timo, often lending him gear or bringing him over-the-top gifts, which Magnus and Björn find unfair, as they’re not given such privileges. Sigurd insists that Timo is simply more trustworthy, and he trusts Timo to handle his stuff with care. Sigurd and Timo tend to drift to the sidelines during gatherings, content to sit with a cup of coffee and talk quietly. They have been through similar experiences they can both relate to, and thus far, they haven’t provoked one another too badly, making their friendship rather drama-free. Timo has always admired Sigurd, ever since they were young. There was something distant and mysterious about him that made Timo want to get closer, mimicking Sigurd in little ways, trying to be more like him. That admiration hasn’t really faded; Timo still sees Sigurd as someone effortlessly cool, someone worth looking up to. He follows his lead with almost blind loyalty, always ready to join him on hikes or fishing trips with eager enthusiasm. Sigurd, in turn, finds Timo’s stories amusing and his quiet resilience endearing. They’re not each other’s first pick when it comes to social plans, but when they do spend time together, they genuinely enjoy it. Sigurd appreciates how easy it is to be around Timo, how he laughs at his dry jabs about Björn or follows along with his plans without needing to be convinced. Sometimes, though, Timo’s passivity and eagerness to please clash with Sigurd’s snarkiness and competitive streak. He feels a bit guilty if he's being too sarcastic with him. Timo’s too kind to push back, and more often than not, the sass may go completely over his head. Because of that, Sigurd holds back more than he does with others. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Iceland / Eiríkur Sigurd has never been good at parenting or taking responsibility for others, so he has a lot of regrets concerning Eiríkur. He has always known Eiríkur is his brother but has never been able to connect with him. That doesn't mean he doesn't care about the kid, but Sigurd just never found a way to claim that big brother status. They're very similar in nature, but that also means they're both bad at communicating and prefer to keep everything in. Nowadays, Eiríkur sometimes insists on his independence with the same stubborn pride Sigurd once had, insisting he doesn’t need anyone fussing over him. Sigurd respects that space, but his distance can unintentionally reinforce Eiríkur’s fears regarding Sigurd. The irony isn’t lost as each is trying, in their own clumsy way, to protect the other from disappointment. Sigurd's attempt to reclaim their lost bond is sometimes irritating to Eiríkur, even though he knows it shouldn't be. He just has lots of disappointing memories when it comes to his brother, which is the reason for his underlying insecurities between them, like the lingering fear that Sigurd might disappear again, as he has before. On the other hand, Sigurd has always given Eiríkur the freedom Magnus never knew how to give. He took Eiríkur on long trips and taught him necessary life skills that gave him the critical tools to survive on his own. Eiríkur adored Sigurd growing up, always choosing him over anyone else. He used to light up at the mere mention of Sigurd’s name and grew jealous if someone else claimed his brother’s attention. When Eiríkur was nervous or unsure as a child, Sigurd would tell him fantastical stories and restore hope in him, uniting them through their shared love for stories and imagination. When Sigurd was bedridden by the plague, little Eiríkur stood by him. He would sit by his bed, read books, and talk to him, as they'd tell each other stories. Eiríkur could bring Sigurd messages and meals while occasionally spying on Magnus and Björn, reporting back what they were planning. But other days, Sigurd was too ashamed or tired to even let Eiríkur into his room, giving the poor kid mixed signals on what he was supposed to do. Many times, Sigurd's own need for autonomy took precedence over his responsibilities to Eiríkur — desperate attempts to hold on to the few meaningful tasks that gave him a sense of purpose. Sometimes, the choices weren’t even Sigurd’s to make, as orders from above pulled him away. There were days when Eiríkur expected Sigurd to come and visit him, waiting patiently at the harbor, watching every ship that came in, expecting his brother to step off the deck from one of them. But he didn’t. Eventually, Eiríkur learned not to get his hopes up, but the disappointment carved itself into him, leaving a quiet scar that never fully faded. Sigurd feels immense regret for not being there when Eiríkur was small, left alone on a harsh island during his most formative years. But Sigurd was only a teenager himself then. Even if he had been there, he doubts he would’ve been the role model Eiríkur needed. Still, the guilt lingers, and he tries to make up for it in the present. They go camping and fishing when time allows, returning to the wild places where they feel most at ease. Around the campfire, they talk about the past. Eiríkur is endlessly curious about their roots and history, and Sigurd does his best to help, though time has eroded many of his memories. Sigurd wants to make sure his brother has what he needs, that he’s equipped to live better, freer, and more fulfilled than Sigurd ever was. But expressing love has never come easily to him, so instead of words, he keeps buying things for Eiríkur, always asking if he has everything he needs, which Eiríkur insists he does. Both Sigurd and Eiríkur have regrets and disappointments regarding their shared past, but they will always have that unique family bond no one can take away from them. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

England / Arthur Both Sigurd and Arthur are old friends who go way back, bound by years of cooperation. Both are ambitious by nature and aware of what they want, yet not always the best at being emotionally present or vulnerable. In many ways, their similarities make their friendship feel effortless. Sigurd has always seen Arthur as a respectable peer, someone who understands and sees Sigurd’s effort. Over the years, Arthur has supported Sigurd during some of the most difficult periods of his life, offering help when people wouldn’t expect him to. While Arthur has managed to get on many people's wrong sides and people's opinion isn't always favorable of him, Sigurd has gotten rare glimpses of a softer Arthur that very few get to see. They often collaborate closely, especially in matters of work, and there's a warmth to their friendship that shows most in small gestures. Sigurd, for instance, never misses the chance to go all out with Christmas gifts. And while Arthur is often busy and hard to pin down, he never turns down the chance to share a drink with his quiet old friend. However, sometimes Sigurd is faced with an awkward position due to Arthur’s and Eiríkur’s disinterest in one another, as he doesn’t want to seem like he’s siding with one over the other. Arthur and Eiríkur just don't really get along, but for the sake of Sigurd, they try to at least pretend. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Ireland / Saoirse Saoirse's and Sigurd's histories are deeply intertwined, shaped by tensions and collaborations between their former peers. Saoirse, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, didn’t exactly warm up to the Norseman right away. But even back then, she had a sense of humor that cut through his cold exterior. She also had a fearless spark that challenged him in ways few others could. When he pushed her, she pushed back. When he played rough, she returned the energy with twice the force. Saoirse, too, has always loved storytelling and music, talents that Sigurd has long admired from a distance. Her creativity and charisma drew him in, even if he didn’t always know how to say it. During their time in America, the two reconnected as adults, finding more common ground than before. The noisy rivalry of childhood gave way to a friendship marked by loyalty and a shared determination to survive in a new harsh situation. Nowadays, Saoirse teases Sigurd every now and then, especially when he’s in the presence of Arthur or Alasdair. This is to remind them he’s an old friend of hers too! Unfortunately, Saoirse has a knack for sniffing out gossip, so Sigurd has to keep his guard up around her to make sure his secrets stay buried, for now. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Scotland / Alasdair Alasdair and Sigurd have known each other for as long as either of them can remember. From the very beginning, their relationship was shaped by the tensions from deep-rooted rivalries. First impressions were tainted by prejudice but also riddled by a persistent curiosity. As children, they played together despite the tension — sometimes too rough, ending in scratches and one of them running off in tears. And yet, no matter how many times they separated, that pull toward one another never quite faded.  In those early days, Sigurd was bolder, at times impossible to handle. A menace in the eyes of many, especially during the chaos of the Middle Ages. Alasdair, by contrast, was already brimming with pride and an unshakable sense of confidence, always standing tall even when others tried to cut him down. His fierce spirit and charisma fascinated Sigurd, while Alasdair was equally intrigued by Sigurd’s mysteriousness. But Sigurd's path got complicated. Tied down by the demands of centralized rule and weakened by the plague, he found himself trapped within constraining unions and a loss of influence that left him weak and apathetic. During the Kalmar Union, his failing health and desperation to retain a sliver of autonomy left him too afraid to meet many of his peers, feeling like a shadow of his former self. And yet, when Alasdair reappeared in his life, something shifted. The Scot’s energy offered Sigurd comfort and relief, giving him a brief escapism from his state. In another timeline, perhaps they would have worked together more, built something lasting through alliances, but history had other plans. Even when political duties kept them apart, they remained close via handwritten letters, with something unspoken lingering between them. During occasional meetings, whether by trade or diplomatic visits, their connection only deepened. A quiet, persistent yearning began to take root, romantic in nature but carefully concealed beneath layers of duty, uncertainty, and timing that never quite lined up. It wasn’t until the 19th century that they found themselves drawn together again — both of them older, hardened by experience. Sigurd, now part of yet another union, was fighting more fiercely than ever to carve out his independence, while Alasdair was navigating his own path through the tides of industrialization and being more tightly cooperative (or controlled) through his siblings. The two of them crossed paths more frequently, and this time, their bond became something unapologetically intimate, though still kept from public view. Their relationship became a quiet rebellion, a way to find solace while being drowned by decisions made above their heads. Neither of them asked for the roles they inherited, but in each other, they found a rare compassion and freedom. Even now, they continue to see one another — no longer as secretive as they once were, but still careful. Their relationship is unconventional, perhaps even unserious to some, but it works. Neither is in a rush to settle down. Sometimes, they both wish history had been kinder to them. But then again, they've never let fate stop them from trying. After all, it’s a rare privilege to love someone since childhood and still have eternity to figure it all out.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[sotc]

I FINALLY BEAT TRESPASSER AOUGHHHHH i am feeling so much. I LOVE YOU DORIAN. I LOVE YOU SOLAS. I LVOE YOU BLACKWALL. I LOVE YOU COLE. I LOVE YOU JULEIC. I LOVE YOU TRESPASSER MUSIC. I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE MY INQUIZZY AGAINNNN

[darabeatha]

/ A reminder to never expect me to be fully updated on lore and know all the minuscule 9487548957894 details of a character's story and their surroundings, I'm empty as men came to this world and can only vouch for my muses through love (also bc I cannot remember things rip)

[vullcanica]

Nikodemus' avid interest in music and dance stretches far back to deep antiquity where his earliest iterations partook in peasant folk music and the oral traditions surrounding it. To him, melody has always begotten movement - whether of the body or mind or, likewise, spirit - and is at its best when written for such purposes. Krilnei was rich in folk music divorced from the ceremonial and religious movements of the outside world and held more personal connotations for its commonfolk and the various festivities celebrated in the village. The culture also freely borrowed from settling travellers and nomad musicians, who would contribute their own practices and foreign influences to the krilneian musical craft. There was unchecked freedom of expression and, tangentially, a staggering speed of innovation in rhythm, melody, lyricism and harmony, borne of experimentation. To this day, the Necromancer is partial to rich, full, layered music and multiple voice compositions.

Nikodemus' later venture out into the world and his several stints into organized religion - a leading authority on music at the time - left him bored of the stiff tenets of plainchant, where he nevertheless flourished into his natural baritone. He followed more closely the works of free composers who were spared the limitations of faith-sponsored musical education and largely benefitted from that - men and women whose contribution to the creative word were never recognized and preserved as holy, and thusly have not survived anywhere but the bowels of Nikodemus' libraries of personally transcribed songs. His curiosity about the originality of the sung word lead to him supporting - and even quietly pushing, through the orchestration of several religious rebellions and sects (already a frequent meddler in those affairs himself) - the full divorce of music from the limitations of the holy language, and then, from the whims and patronship of the rather droll ecclesiastic class. Then sat back and watched musical diversity grow as it moved away from the sacred.

He opted to finally pursue a musical education in later eras and in many forms from lands far more vivacious, just in time to catch several Golden Ages where he greedily picked up languages, songs and dances like a man parched - then returned to his homeland, taken by the rapid development of classical composition, the rudiment of opera and the transition from courtly dancing to partnered romantics. He sought brief operatic training - only so far as the whim held him - then resigned himself once more to participating in the creative world in other ways. Easy wealth - sometimes earned, mostly not - always allowed for patronship of the musical arts when he felt like it; money he would blow elsewhere anyhow. When the practical need to pose as noble or even royal arose, an excuse to fill courts and travelling parties with household musicians did too. He would always have a flutist, oudist, drummer and harpist in tow. In later centuries, a pianist as well. All always specifically famous for their dance music.

Every few centuries he would hire select musicians to try and bring to life his library of old krilneian music - at times to resounding success, other times to failure, but never to the survival of the chosen few. It's a nostalgic indulgence of his none are privy to - for long, at least.

[inkpromise]

it also just dawned on me that this poor guy has rarely slept on a mattress that could fit all of him. from what i can tell, an iron bed frame could've been commissioned for his specifications but that doesn't account for all the time he spent traveling for the family. so, really, the only time he can stretch out is when he sleeps on the floor.

[abelladxnna]

some character info changes, both important and trivial:

+ Kita's birth name has been changed to "Katarina Belasco." The surname is derived from the Basque word "bela" which means "crow," which I thought fit Kita's father's motif.

+ Kita's previous codename during her assassin days has been changed from "Charlotte" to "Abella." She was originally named after Charlotte Corday, an assassin during the French Revolution era, to follow the trend of how Team Rocket characters in the anime's EN dub are named after real historical figures.

But I was compelled to change it to "Abella" after playing Fear & Hunger 2 because she is an absolute WIFE and I legitimately did not know that Abella was an actual name until then and so I figured this would be more fitting given the blog name and her new surname. Plus, Kita no longer has past connections to Team Rocket.

+ I recently came to realize that Jennifer Connelly has a very beautiful voice. It's got that very soothing, breathy quality that makes you feel at ease. But because I am partial to video game characters and voice actors, I wanted to pick one who sounded close to her and eventually settled on Courtnee Taylor as Kita's new voiceclaim (although I think she may have already been a scrapped one in the past. I can't remember since I've changed it so frequently). Also ironically, her character in Bioshock Infinite is a faceclaim for one of her and Sycamore's kids.

On a side note, her mother's voiceclaim has also been changed to Lisa Hannigan because I forgot until now that Blue Diamond's voice is so lovely and ethereal-sounding.

+ Kita's new birthday (well, new-ish unless you noticed the change like a month ago) is June 4 which is supposedly International Hug Your Cat Day. I mainly wanted to make her a Gemini.

+ Two things have been added to Kita's ability list: Spiritual Awareness & Telepathy. (Although these have been added for a while too actually).

Kita is able to sense the presence of ghost Pokemon (ghost-types and spirits of dead Pokemon) as well as hear their voices. Her ability to communicate with spirits of dead people is much weaker in comparison due to never having received proper training in mediumship. She is still able to sense "traces" of them and sometimes hear their whispers only if there is strong spiritual presence in certain areas. She will use this ability to find hidden treasures and other secrets.

[kingofprosperity]

// tag post. wip.

// Sorry everyone lmao

[sexybread-png]

hello everyone twt suspended me for a week (theres still 3-4 days left) so i have been a little bit bored but i figured i should post here anyways siiigghh

details under the cut

ok so the want of making an elphaba fashion exploration has been there since ive watched the movie but the urge really came to me after i explained to my friends how NOT masculine elphaba's outfit was in one of my drawings (i doodled the full outfit in the top right corner)

it really irked me when multiple comments were made abt how i was part of the ppl masculinizing cynthia's elphaba when i really put thought and effort into elphaba's fashion (as well as glinda's) in every drawing i make of her. like the cut of her sweater and the frills on her pants are very feminine-- pants are not inherently masculine (and neither are muscles but thats another conversation). i did want to explore her fashion with only pants to show how feminine pants outfits could be but i had admittedly not drawn her in as many skirts/dresses as glinda so i decided i should.

HOWEVER i do want to add. galinda's fashion is like. hyper fucking feminine. next to her, anyone would look less feminine... i mean she wears sm pink and bows and frills and shit... i find it a bit of a disservice to many artists for ppl to complain about elphaba's feminity compared to galinda's when they just dont wear the same kind of clothes.

okay a bit of a commentary not about my drawings at all but : theres also the comments on how ppl would never make galinda wear masc clothing when. thats simply not true a lot of ppl call her an egg even AND the movie versions of them are not the first. i suspect many ppl would use the same or similar hcs they had for other versions of gelphie and transfer them over. WHICH to be clear there is a problem of masculinizing black women in fandom and as an artist it is my responsibility to portray her with utmost respect. im not saying racial biases dont have a play in ppl's headcanons, but i do think excluding the history of the fandom of wicked from these hcs makes it... less true? less of a full truth maybe? do you know what i mean... as is the story of wicked, i think the issue is nuanced. also this might be only a twitter issue as people on twt do make things black and white often.

anyways! back to the fashion, im no expert either i just thought itd be nice to try my hand at it!!

oh and the other drawing well . shes just too effin cute man idk what else to tell u

[yuujispinkhair]

NERD!SUKUNA HEADCANONS - Part 1

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). College AU. 2k words 18+, fluff + smut (Sukuna has some dirty fantasies about Reader. The actual smut will be in Part 2). "Enemies" to friends to fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is shy and struggles with her grades. Sukuna is a genius but bad at feelings ;) Minors don't interact. Divider @/.lacedolliee. Credit for the super sexy fanart of Nerdkuna goes to my sweet friend @winterrbluess. The pic was used with Winn's permission 🖤 You asked if someone could write a little something about your fave sexy nerd, and I couldn't resist ;) I hope you'll enjoy it!

Nerd!Sukuna, who looks like a bad boy but is actually at the top of all his classes and a huge nerd when it comes to his studies and his various interests. Very intelligent, passionate, and hardworking. Sukuna always wants to be the best in everything he does.

Nerd!Sukuna, who could be one of the most popular guys on the whole campus if he wanted to, with his good looks and impressive height and fit body. But he keeps everyone at arm's length, not giving a fuck about popularity and not wanting to get distracted from his academic success.

Nerd!Sukuna, who once beat up a football player who tried to make fun of Sukuna's passion for all things history-related, and ever since that day, no one dared to bother Sukuna again.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is arrogant and condescending and thinks (rightfully so) that no one is fit to hold a candle to him. He is constantly looking down on everyone around him and would rather spend his free time perfecting his skills and studies than doing something useless.

Nerd!Sukuna, who hates group projects and prefers to work alone because everyone else is just holding him up, and Sukuna has to control all of their steps to fix their mistakes.

Nerd!Sukuna, who rolls his eyes in annoyance when he gets paired up with you for an assignment. A shy little thing whose name he never heard before, which means you are definitely not playing in the same academic league as him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who towers over you with his backpack slung casually over his broad shoulders and his tattooed face cold and hard when he informs you that he expects you to work hard and not fuck up his grades, or he will make your life hell.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is fully convinced this will be a disaster when he sees you wring your hands nervously and promise him you will work your ass off for this assignment because you really need a good grade so you can pass.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is a control freak who plans everything ahead and, therefore, doesn't let you have a word on how often you meet or when or where. He doesn't like having people over at his place, but he invites you over anyway because his kitchen table is his favorite place to study.

Nerd!Sukuna, who fixes you with a stern look through his nerdy glasses as he shoves a huge stack of books across the table, informing you he expects you to read all the needed information, which he already marked for you with various color-coded sticky notes. "Because you probably don't even know what we need for this assignment."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how thoroughly you work and by the questions you ask him, which let him know you aren't as dumb as he thought.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how you hang on his lips when he explains stuff to you, clearly impressed by his detailed knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, he intentionally lowers his voice a bit more, just to see you get all nervous when he is talking in such a husky way, almost as if he isn't explaining political intrigues in the Heian era to you but rather telling you what he wants to do to you in his bed.

Nerd!Sukuna, who finds devilish joy in seeing how flustered you get around him and how clearly intimidated you are by his tall and broad body and his tattoos and arrogant attitude.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit (only to himself) that getting paired up with you isn't too bad because at least you give your best, and you are actually kind of cute. The kind of sweet, shy girl who usually doesn't cross paths with him.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself watching you during study time in his kitchen or in the library. He tells himself he is just checking if you really do your work, but his gaze mostly lingers on your glossy lips, which wrap around your pen while you focus on something or on your nose, which looks super cute when you scrunch it up in confusion.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't one to brag because he thinks that is something for losers, but he can't help but mention casually some of the academic awards he already won just because he is getting addicted to the buzzing in his veins when he sees the way you gulp hard and get all shy and cute on him, muttering something about how you struggle to even stay in college.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually loves to be a little sadist and make fun of people who have bad grades, but somehow, he can't bring himself to do that when it comes to you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who instead surprises himself by reaching out and ruffling your hair, telling you that he will help you with your studies.

Nerd!Sukuna, who forms a strange little companionship with you, almost looking forward to your meetings and even preparing an extra plate of snacks for you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who usually isn't someone people would refer to as nice, but who drops his arrogant and mocking attitude at least a little when he is in his kitchen with you and instead jokes around with you and feels his heart throb weirdly when you get his humor, and laugh about his even most sarcastic remarks.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes it when you come out of your shell more and more, joining in on his playful teasing or telling him about your favorite books and shows.

Nerd!Sukuna, who accidentally overhears you telling your classmate that you don't have time to go to the coffeeshop with her because you are already meeting your friend Sukuna after class, which leaves Sukuna standing in the middle of the hallway for a whole thirty seconds, with his mouth hanging open, completely stunned and looking like a brainless idiot as his mind tries to wrap around the fact that you see him as your friend when Sukuna never had a friend before.

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes sure to bake your favorite muffins and prepare your favorite type of tea before you come over that afternoon, wordlessly showing you that he values your companionship, or friendship, as you called it, too.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels a small smile tug at his usually smirking lips when he sees your big happy smile and hears your sweet "For me? Oh, thank you!" when you see the plate with muffins on your place at his kitchen table. And yes, he refers to it as your place, and the thought makes him feel strangely warm.

Nerd!Sukuna, who playfully teases you for your Hello Kitty pens and glittery pink notebooks, asking if you are in some "Little Princess Kindergarten Club" or something. Only for you to march up to him the next morning before class to press a Hello Kitty text marker set against his chest so he can join the club, too, causing Sukuna to sit in class with a stupid grin on his face for a whole hour.

Nerd!Sukuna, who likes how easy things feel with you. How he can put all his hard work into your assignment and also see you working hard on it, but also have this light-hearted, playful banter with you, making him realize how boring and dry his afternoons used to be before you became his assignment partner.

Nerd!Sukuna, who has to admit that you definitely aren't as bad of an assignment partner as he thought you would be. He even allows you to fill out a whole page all by yourself, which is the biggest compliment he can give you.

Nerd!Sukuna, who catches himself playfully flirting with you, smirking smugly when he catches you staring at him when he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "See something you like, princess? Aww, no need to be embarrassed. I know those glasses look sexy on me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who loves to tease you like that and who ducks just in time when you scream in embarrassment and throw a pen at him while looking so fucking cute that Sukuna just teases you even more.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is quite happy with how your assignment is going. Usually, he would do the whole presentation by himself because he trusts no one else to deliver it the way he wants to, but Sukuna knows how shy you are about talking in front of the class, and Sukuna wants to teach you how to lose that fear.

Nerd!Sukuna, who just smirks at you when you complain loudly, "I can't do that! I am so bad at presenting things. I get all nervous and flustered, and then I mess up. Please do it yourself, Sukuna! You are so much better at this!"

Nerd!Sukuna, who tells you, "If you always run away from everything that scares you, you will never make it in life. So, nope. You will do your part. But aren't you such a lucky girl that you have me as your teacher?"

Nerd!Sukuna, who makes you stand in front of his fridge and practice your presentation over and over again while Sukuna sits on the kitchen chair, long muscular legs spread, tattooed arms crossed in front of his broad chest, occasionally pushing his glasses up as he watches you with an amused expression on his tattooed face, providing a brutal but honest opinion and actually helpful advice.

Nerd!Sukuna, who isn't just an overly critical and perfectionist asshole, but also someone who gives praise when he thinks it is deserved. And you, his cute little assignment partner, really deserve it. Sukuna walks over to you, stopping in front of you with a broad grin, "You did really well, princess. I'm proud of you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who wonders why your pupils look so blown out all of a sudden when you tilt your head to look up at him, stuttering in a slightly breathless voice, "Th... thank you. You were a really good teacher."

Nerd!Sukuna, who laughs and pets your hair as he smirks at you, saying something about how he could teach you lots of other things, too. Not sure anymore whether he is still just teasing you or if he really means it in a sexual way.

Nerd!Sukuna, who realizes he has a little big problem when he starts noticing the way your tits get pushed up and almost spill out of your shirt when you press a stack of books against them. Or when he loses his thread because you decided to wear a sexy little skirt, and now Sukuna can't stop thinking about how cute it would look if you were bouncing on his cock while still wearing that little skirt. Or when you suck on your stupid Hello Kitty pen, and Sukuna can't help but imagine how those sweet glossy lips of yours would feel wrapped around his cock instead.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to suppress those thoughts though, not wanting to mess this assignment up.

Nerd!Sukuna, who feels like encountering a world boss in a computer game, when you have a breakdown at his kitchen table, the evening before your presentation, crying and sobbing because you are nervous and convinced you will fuck up. And suddenly, Sukuna finds himself comforting you, gently caressing your arms with his large hands while murmuring reassurance to you. "Hey, stop being a brat. I know you can do it. You learned from the best, after all, didn't you, princess? And you got me. Just look at me the whole time, ok? Nothing bad can happen when you just look at me."

Nerd!Sukuna, who is surprised by how protective he feels over you at that moment. You are sitting in front of him looking like a wet cat, with your eyes all red and swollen from crying and snot running out of your nose, but somehow you still look so fucking cute to him, and somehow you make him so much softer and less rational than he usually is.

Nerd!Sukuna, who sighs and growls, "Oh, just come here." sounding annoyed but contradicting it by pulling you into his strong arms and holding you until you feel ok again. Sukuna still complains that you got his shirt wet with your tears, but his words lack the bite.

Nerd!Sukuna, who is genuinely proud of how much you improved when he watches your part of the presentation the next day. He even catches himself smiling a real smile at you when he congratulates you after class.

Nerd!Sukuna, who experiences a strange fluttery feeling in his stomach when you smile back at him and put your small hand on his tattooed biceps, "Thank you, Sukuna. It was really nice working with you."

Nerd!Sukuna, who manages a "same," but then just stands before you, opening his mouth and closing it again, not knowing what else to say because there are too many thoughts racing through his mind, and all of them seem to be too honest. And you do the same, shuffling around shyly, looking at him with wide eyes, parting your lips, but no words come out. And so both of you just lift a hand in an awkward farewell gesture and leave on opposite sides of the hallway.

Nerd!Sukuna, who tries to tell himself he is glad that your assignment is over and he can work in solitude again but then ends up staring longingly at the empty chair at his kitchen table, where you used to sit those last few weeks.

Aww Sukuna, do you miss us? ;)

I AM VERY ATTRACTED TO HIM AAAHHHH please, Kuna, tell me more about history and physics and every other subject that there is!!! You are so sexy!! 😘😘

Winn's fanart of Nerdkuna made me swoon so much and fall in love with him, and I always picture him as being at the top of classes anyway, so I think it was really time to finally write about him living his best nerdy life.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the headcanons! I will post Part 2 in a few days 💗 Will Kuna find a way to get us back onto his kitchen chair?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

Here is Part 2

[neocrias]

Making out with svt

warnings: descriptions; headcanons; gn (mostly) reader self insert; you might find it a little kinky at some point;

pairings: svt x gn reader

gender/aus: fluff; slightly suggestive;

Scoups

The whole night, Seungcheol tried to focus on dinner, the conversation, and the sophisticated atmosphere of the restaurant. But it was impossible. From the moment you appeared in front of him, wearing that outfit that hugged your body in a way that seemed tailor-made to tease him, nothing else mattered. His dark gaze kept falling on you every second, his jaw clenching every time you moved in a way that made it impossible to ignore the effect you had on him.

On the way home, the tension between you was palpable. The city passed unnoticed through the car windows while the only thing that truly mattered to Seungcheol was the sensation of your skin under his palm. His large hand rested firmly on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles, occasionally pressing as if testing your patience as if making it clear what was coming next.

When he finally parked in front of your house, he got out of the car first. The click of the door opening echoed in the stillness of the night as he moved around, his calm, calculated movements with that dominant presence that made your breath hitch before he even touched you.

Seungcheol extended his hand, helping you out of the car, his eyes never leaving yours. As soon as you were standing, he shut the door behind you—and before you could even process the movement, his body was already pressed against yours on the car.

The impact was gentle but definitive. One of his hands found your waist, pulling you against him, while the other cupped the side of your face. And then, without hesitation, he took your lips.

The kiss was fierce, filled with everything he’d been holding back the whole night. Seungcheol wasn’t one for half-measures, and there, against the car, under the dim streetlight, he made that clear. His lips were demanding against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth without rushing, as if savoring every second, as if he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

When he felt you melt under his touch, the need for more took over. Without effort, one of his hands slid down the side of your body until it found your thigh, and in one swift move, he lifted it, pressing it against his waist. The contrast between the cold metal of the car and the heat of his body made a shiver run up your spine.

Dressed entirely in black, Seungcheol looked even more imposing. The dark shirt clung to his body, accentuating every defined muscle, and the strength with which he held you against him made it impossible to ignore how badly he wanted this.

The kiss didn’t slow down. Seungcheol deepened every movement, exploring, dominating, as if his intention was to etch the feeling into every cell of your body. The firm hand holding your leg against him, his chest rising and falling against yours, the muffled sound of heavy breathing between kisses – all contributing to the electricity that hung in the air.

When he finally broke the kiss, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and gleaming with desire, he smiled crookedly.

— I should’ve brought you home earlier... — He murmured, his voice rough.

But the way he pressed his body against yours afterward made it clear that the night was far from over.

Jeonghan

The smell of your parents' house was familiar, a mix of fresh coffee and old wood that brought back childhood memories. Lunch had been peaceful, and Jeonghan, with his charming ways, had effortlessly won over your parents. He laughed at the stories they told about you as a child, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous interest only he could have.

After eating, you decided to give him a tour of the house. You walked through the rooms, stopping at every detail that was part of your history—the mark on the living room wall where you used to measure your height as a kid, the bookshelf filled with old books, the garden where you used to play. But it was in your bedroom that the tour truly ended.

The space felt smaller now, but it still carried your essence. Jeonghan was immediately distracted by the old photos scattered around, picking one up with an amused smile.

— Look at you here, such a cutie! — He laughed, holding a picture of you as a little kid. — Who would’ve thought that this innocent little face would grow up to be so bossy?

You rolled your eyes, throwing yourself onto the old bed with a sigh. The mattress creaked slightly under your weight, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting nostalgia wash over you. But before you could fully relax, you felt an added weight on top of you.

You opened your eyes only to find Jeonghan sitting on your lap, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as his fingers pinned your wrists against the mattress.

— Jeonghan… — You murmured, your heart racing.

— Yes? — He tilted his head, feigning innocence, but the playful glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

— My parents are in the next room.

He smiled even more, leaning down until his lips barely brushed against yours, teasing.

— And? — His voice came out low, almost a whisper. — I don’t plan on making any noise.

And then, he kissed you.

The first kiss was slow, teasing, as if he wanted to test the limits of the situation. Jeonghan’s lips were warm and soft against yours, and the way he moved—always in control, always knowing exactly what to do – made your entire body react instantly.

But he didn’t stop there.

Jeonghan was a game of cat and mouse, and he loved playing with you. Every time you tried to catch your breath, he captured your lips again, stealing quick kisses, smiling against your mouth, his fingers lazily tracing your face, then trailing down to your waist, where he held you with deceptive gentleness.

The bed creaked softly beneath the subtle movements, and every time you tried to protest, he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his lips molding to yours with more intensity.

Your fingers clenched around his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The way he dominated the moment, the way he whispered something between kisses just to tease you, made every cell in your body vibrate with anticipation.

And when he finally pulled away, just enough to look into your eyes, the satisfied smile on his lips made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

— See? — He whispered, his thumb slowly brushing over your lower lip. — Not a single sound.

But his eyes said something else. He was just getting started.

Joshua

The elevator doors close smoothly, and you lean against the wall, holding Joshua's hand, watching him with a suspicious look. You two had just returned from a date, and throughout the entire night, Joshua had behaved better than expected—no pranks, no teasing comments.

He's been too quiet, which is never a good sign.

Then, before the elevator even ascends a single floor, he presses a hidden button on the panel. The lights flicker, the elevator gives a slight jolt, and… stops.

— Oh, no… — Joshua murmurs, covering his mouth with an exaggerated expression of surprise. — Looks like we’re stuck.

Your eyes widen. — What?!

— Yeah, it happened again… These elevators are a bit unstable, you know?

Suspicion hits immediately. 

— Joshua. What did you do?

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

— Me? Nothing. — But the mischievous smile gives everything away.

You let out an exasperated sigh and reach for the emergency button, but he moves fast. Before you can even touch the panel, Joshua steps closer and cups your face with both hands, his palms covering your cheeks, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin.

— Hey, hey, what’s the rush? — He murmurs, his voice low and lazy, his playful gaze shifting into something more intense. — Maybe it’s a sign from fate.

Your heart jumps when he leans in slowly, his warm breath grazing your lips before he finally captures them with his own.

The kiss starts as a tease – just like him. Joshua’s lips move against yours deliberately, savoring, testing, as if he’s relishing your reaction. But as you respond, he deepens it, making it slower, more consuming, his tongue sliding against yours in a heated, intoxicating touch.

He smiles against your lips the moment he feels you melt in his arms, giving in to the kiss, your fingers dragging over the nape of his neck with growing need. One of his hands glides to your waist, circling it and pulling you closer, while the other discreetly moves behind you. His fingers find the right button, and without you even noticing, he presses it.

Suddenly, the elevator starts moving again.

You pull back with a start, blinking in surprise. — Wait…

Joshua lets out a low, satisfied chuckle.

— Oops. Guess it’s working again. — He shrugs as if he hadn’t just tricked you once more.

— You…!

He grins like he’s having way too much fun, his thumb brushing lightly over your swollen lips. — Don’t look at me like that. You liked it.

The worst part? He’s right.

Jun

The muffled sound of the audience echoed through the backstage hallways, and you could hardly believe you were there, accompanying Jun to yet another one of the group’s shows. He seemed calm, but there was something in his eyes—a mischievous glint you couldn’t quite decipher.

— Let’s go grab some water — he said suddenly, his voice casual.

You didn’t find it strange. Jun was the kind of person everyone adored—sweet and attentive to those around him—and he hated being away from you when you had a day to be together, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. None of the members even glanced in your direction, too busy with their own preparations. So, without questioning, you followed him down the hallways.

It happened too fast. Before you even realized it, Jun pushed open the door of an empty dressing room and, in one swift motion, pulled you inside. The soft click of the door closing sounded louder than it should have.

— Jun-? 

Your voice was cut off as he leaned against the wall and pulled you against him, your bodies colliding in the narrow space. He smirked, a malicious glint in his eyes. — I didn’t scare you, did I?

His expression softened into feigned innocence, but his tone betrayed his true intentions.

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked nothing like the adorable Jun everyone knew—here, alone with you, there was something else, something undeniably provocative.

The question lingered in the air, but before you could respond, Jun slid one of his hands down your waist, giving a light squeeze. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and that cocky smile still hadn’t left his lips.

And then, he leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

— We’ve got a few minutes… — he murmured, the tip of his nose grazing your jawline.

— Yeah? — you asked, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and tilting up to capture his lips in a slow, restrained kiss. One that Jun wasted no time deepening as he held you by the waist with one arm, while his other hand tangled into the hair at the nape of your neck.

He used his grip on your hair to position you exactly how he wanted, making the kiss more comfortable for him—and better for you. He pulled you closer by the hips, leaving one leg between yours, your bodies pressed together enough to feel the rise and fall of each breath.

Outside, the show was about to begin. But at that moment, nothing else seemed to matter except the way Jun looked at you—and what he wanted to do with those stolen minutes.

Wonwoo

Wonwoo was off today and decided to spend his free day playing the game he had been waiting for over the past two months. He was sitting comfortably in his gaming chair, the room lit faintly by a soft yellow LED light.

The sound of the keyboard clicks filled the air, and the soft light of the late afternoon illuminated the space. Since the beginning of the afternoon, Wonwoo had been immersed in the game, as if nothing else in the world mattered. You watched him for a moment, respecting the fact that he needed this time for himself after working so much. However, it was already night, and the longing for his touch, for his presence, started to weigh on you.

You quietly approached, leaning against his back. Your hands, soft and delicate, began massaging his shoulders, feeling the tension accumulated there. Wonwoo let out a slight sigh of pleasure but kept his focus on the game, as if trying not to get distracted. But it was impossible not to notice the touch of your presence and the warmth of your proximity.

After a few seconds, he tilted his head back, his eyes meeting yours. His smile was gentle but full of something you recognized well: desire, affection, and a slight complicity.

Without hesitation, you moved closer and, with a quick motion, kissed him in the Spider-Man and Mary Jane style, your lips meeting gently as he was still leaning back. The kiss was soft, gentle, and even a bit playful, but full of undeniable chemistry.

Fortunately, that wasn’t enough for Wonwoo – and even less so for you. He took control, spinning the chair to face you without missing a beat, and with one firm hand, placed it behind your thigh, slowly pulling you onto his lap.

The movement was smooth, but full of intention. You settled there, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away. He was closer now, and the distance between the two of you seemed to vanish completely.

The kiss quickly escalated, going from something gentle and playful to pure need and desire. Wonwoo held your waist, pressing you down against him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, instinctively arching your back.

— Your game... — You murmured between kisses and caresses.

Wonwoo simply hummed, not paying attention to your words – he had better things to focus on: marking the length of your neck and shoulders. The sound of battle filled the space between the two of you's panting breaths. The game long forgotten.

The night was just beginning, but you knew that, beside him, time would just be a word.

Hoshi

The office was finally silent. After hours immersed in the group's new project, you and Hoshi were the last to leave. He stretched, intertwining his fingers above his head before casting a casual glance in your direction.

— Ready to go? — He asked, already walking ahead.

— Always. —  you replied, grabbing your bag and following him down the hallway.

Hoshi pressed the elevator button, but when the doors opened, he suddenly made a face as if he had just remembered something important.

— Oh, wait... I think we'd better take the stairs. I heard the elevator has been acting up lately. —  He scratched the back of his neck, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, not buying his excuse but also not protesting as he started heading toward the stairwell. Hoshi smiled innocently and began descending, still leading the way. You kept following him until, two floors down, he suddenly stopped and turned to you, biting back a mischievous smile.

— Already? — You crossed your arms, tilting your head to the side. — Couldn't keep up the lie for too long, huh?

He didn’t answer. Instead, in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a step, making you stumble slightly. Before you could regain your balance, his hands were firm on your waist, pressing your body against his. Hoshi leaned back against the railing, a playful glint in his eyes.

Before you could say anything, Hoshi leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep, yearning kiss. Stealthily, his palms slid along the sides of your waist until his fingers pressed firmly against your skin, keeping you close.

For a moment, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating taste of his kiss. His touch became gentle again, filled with hidden intentions, but the way his fingertips moved was so light that you barely felt them creeping upward.

Not until he reached your chest, teasingly squeezing them.

You pulled away, breathless, your face flushed. Your heart pounded wildly as you opened your eyes again, only to find that satisfied smile on his lips. His scent, mixed with the faint, enclosed air of the stairwell, made your head spin slightly.

— You should know by now that I could never resist an opportunity like this. — He murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You could feel his breath far too close to your skin – warm and enticing. The empty stairwell, the silence around you, the way he held your waist as if he had no intention of letting go… everything seemed to conspire against any chance of escape.

But did you really want to escape?

Woozi

You and Woozi had decided to have another one of those afternoons where you both worked on your own projects while enjoying each other's quiet company. His new comeback was approaching, and he still had many songs to work on, while you had to deal with the planning of this new project your boss had made you responsible for.

The room was immersed in a tranquil, almost dreamlike atmosphere. The soft strumming of Woozi’s guitar filled the space with an enchanting melody, blending with the sweet aroma of the warm cookies on the table.

At first, everything felt perfect. Your cup of your favorite drink was still warm between your fingers, and the ambiance seemed to conspire in your favor, helping you focus on the project assigned to you. But as the hours passed, the open pages on your laptop remained nearly untouched, the blinking cursor a cruel reminder that you weren’t even halfway through your planning.

A tired sigh escaped your lips, and Woozi, ever attentive, noticed. He stopped strumming, placing his guitar aside before standing up. His quiet steps didn’t immediately alert you, but soon you felt his firm yet gentle touch as he pulled your chair to turn you towards him.

Before you could question him, Woozi slid his hands around your waist, effortlessly lifting you, making a small laugh slip from your surprised lips. He didn’t say a word, simply carrying you in his arms toward the bed and laying you down gently on the mattress. His eyes met yours for a moment, a silent invitation reflected in the dark shimmer of his gaze.

He lay down beside you, pulling your leg over his hip, bringing your bodies closer. One of his hands traced slow, deliberate paths down your back, making your breath hitch. The kiss that followed was deep and sensual, filled with tenderness and intent. His tongue moved slowly against yours as his fingertips ghosted over your skin, coaxing you into relaxation in his arms.

You let your nails trail lazily down his abdomen, sending shivers across his skin, making him smile against your lips. Every touch was a silent promise that here, in his embrace, you could finally rest. The warmth of his body surrounded yours, and without even realizing it, your eyes began to close.

And just like that, clinging to him, you finally surrendered to sleep.

Dokeyom

You and your boyfriend were having yet another secret rendezvous at your place – just a night to binge-watch some random Netflix series while eating too much pizza and ice cream.

The house was filled with laughter, and footsteps hurried against the floor, as if, instead of a grown-up couple, two mischievous children had taken over the place. Every time you and Dokyeom were together, time seemed to rewind, and each date turned into a collection of questionable decisions and pure fun. The latest one? Play-fighting.

It all started harmlessly – a fierce battle for the TV remote. You grabbed it first, clutching it to your chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Dokyeom, with his usual mischievous grin, tried to snatch it from you, the two of you wrestling as if the fate of humanity depended on who would pick the next show.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that behind your boyfriend’s gentle and smiley nature, there was actual strength. And it was only when, in the blink of an eye, he grabbed your ankle with firm hands and pulled you down onto the couch that you understood how dangerous it had been to challenge him.

— Hey! — you exclaimed, trying to regain your balance, but it was too late.

Dokyeom laughed out loud, triumphant, and before you could turn around or come up with a counterattack, he was already on top of you. He pinned your wrists above your head with humiliating ease, his absurd strength contrasting with the bright, innocent smile he always carried.

— Did you really think you could win against me? — he teased, leaning in a little closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. — You really shouldn’t underestimate me like that, sweetheart.

Your heart pounded – partly from the fight, partly because the sudden closeness between you made everything feel even more electrifying. Dokyeom held your wrists firmly but not tightly enough to hurt, and the way he hovered over you, his hair falling slightly over his eyes, made the world seem to slow down.

Dokyeom brushed his lips against yours, giving your lower lip a playful bite. You gasped against his mouth, and he finally took your lips in a gentle kiss, his tongue making its way into your mouth.

This kiss would be just like the others you’ve shared, but there was something different about this one – something more intense, something that sent shivers down your spine, that twisted into a familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, and all because of the way he’s manhandling you and pressing you into the couch effortlessly.

— I haven’t given up yet — you breathlessly challenged when he broke the kiss, squirming in an attempt to free yourself, but Dokyeom only laughed, tightening his fingers just a little around your wrists.

— Oh, really? Then convince me.

The challenge was set. And whatever the next bad decision of the night would be, one thing was certain – you two wouldn’t come out of this fight without consequences.

Mingyu

The kitchen was warm, filled with the aroma of spices and the soft sound of the knife slicing ingredients on the cutting board. Mingyu stood beside you, big and imposing, absentmindedly stirring the spoon inside the pan. But no matter how much he tried to focus on the food, he kept watching you – a gaze heavy with something intense, something that made your whole body tingle under his attention.

You tried to ignore it, continuing to chop the vegetables, but his presence was impossible to overlook. The way he moved, how his broad shoulders seemed to take up all the space around you, how the difference in size between you both became even more obvious every time he leaned in slightly to grab something from the counter.

And then, suddenly, you realized. His gaze wasn’t just a gaze. It was a warning.

Before you could react, Mingyu slid closer, his warm body brushing lightly against yours. He didn’t say anything – he simply pushed the scattered utensils and ingredients aside, clearing the counter. Your heart skipped a beat as you slowly turned to face him.

He was already there, too close, too tall, too broad, with those dark eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped when his hand found your waist, long fingers pressing firmly into the curve. But what truly caught you off guard was when he slipped his other hand under your leg, gliding up to the back of your knee before lifting you effortlessly.

A small gasp escaped your lips as your body was lifted as if it weighed nothing, and within seconds, you were seated on the counter, with Mingyu standing between your legs.

His warmth seemed to consume everything around you. Your breath was uneven, and you barely had time to say anything before he leaned in, his hands gripping your waist tighter as his lips met yours.

The kiss started slow, intense, as if he wanted to savor every second, as if he had waited too long for this. His lips were warm, firm against yours, and as the tension between you both grew, the kiss deepened, turning hungrier, more demanding.

Mingyu slid his fingers across your skin, holding you against him as if he didn’t want to let you go. His left hand trailed up to the base of your throat, his long fingers wrapping around it, applying just enough pressure for you to feel him there, but not enough to choke. Your body fit against his almost naturally, and the sensation of contrast – your height against his, his strength against your fragility – made your heart race even faster.

When he finally pulled back, your faces remained close, breaths mingling. Mingyu’s eyes were darker, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

— Forget the food. — He murmured, his voice husky. — I have a better idea...

And before you could respond, he kissed you again, stealing any words that might have left your mouth.

Minghao

The deserted beach looked like a scene straight out of a dream – the sky painted in warm hues of orange and pink, the salty breeze caressing your skin, the sound of waves crashing softly against the sand. Minghao had chosen this place carefully, a secret hideaway where the world seemed to exist just for the two of you.

He stood in front of you, his gaze fixed on you with that intensity that always made your heart race. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his light pants, his posture relaxed, but his eyes said something else – he was having fun, and you knew that meant he was in a teasing mood.

— I have your present. — He announced, his velvety voice blending with the night breeze.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you practically bounced in place, clasping your hands together like a child waiting for candy.

— Give it to me! Let me see! — You insisted, a wide smile spreading across your face.

Minghao let out a short, muffled chuckle, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the corner of his lips curving into an arrogant smirk. His gaze darkened slightly, glinting with veiled mischief as he replied:

— Beg me. — He answered. — Beg me, and maybe I’ll show you.

Your smile faltered for a second, weighing your options. Minghao loved this kind of game, and you knew the only way to win was to play along. So, slowly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him a little closer.

Your eyes traveled up to his, softer than usual, and you blinked a few times, leaning slightly into him.

— Hao... — Your voice came out lower, almost a whisper.

He laughed, a low, amused sound, and squeezed your waist with one hand before shaking his head.

— I know what you’re doing, but it wont work. — His fingertips brushed along your jaw, tilting your face up slightly. His smirk deepened, a spark of anticipation dancing in his gaze. — I want you to beg for real.

The way he said it, with his voice slow and dripping with provocation, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. Minghao wanted you to truly beg, and judging by the way he looked at you – with that lazy smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes – you knew he wouldn’t give in easily.

So, taking a deep breath, you leaned even closer, your arms still wrapped around his waist, your fingers tracing subtle patterns along the hem of his lightweight shirt. Your gaze lingered on his lips before slowly meeting his eyes again, filled with something deeper, something more genuine.

— Please, Hao… — Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, and your fingers pressed gently against his waist as if urging him closer. — Give it to me…

For a moment, time seemed to slow down. You saw his smirk falter slightly, his eyes darkening as he took in your words and the way you said them. Then, Minghao tilted his head to the side, his lips curling back into that satisfied smile.

He hummed, looking at you with a predatory glint in his eyes, and finally, he leaned in toward you.

The kiss started off slow, a delicious contrast to his earlier teasing. His lips met yours with patience, as if savoring every second, drinking in the taste of your surrender. But it didn’t take long for the softness to shift into something more intense—the rhythm picking up as he gripped your waist tighter, deepening the kiss.

His fingers traveled up your back, the light touches sending shivers through your skin as he pulled you even closer, as if trying to erase any space between you. You felt his breath mix with yours, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric separating you.

When he finally pulled back, that same smirk lingered, but his eyes now held a different shine – less playful, more intense. He kept his hand tangled in your hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you tilted toward him, and rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist firmly.

— Now that’s more like it. — He murmured against your lips, his voice low and satisfied.

You smiled, breathless, your eyes shining with expectation.

— And my present?

Minghao let out a soft chuckle, sliding his hands down to your arms before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

— I’m already giving it to you.

Seungkwan

The court was empty at that hour, illuminated only by the tall lampposts scattered around the space. The scent of dry earth and freshly cut grass mixed with the night breeze, and the only sound besides the rustling of the trees was Seungkwan’s slightly quickened breath – and your quiet, satisfied laughter.

— Stop laughing. — He grumbled, crossing his arms, but the glint in his eyes betrayed that he wasn’t actually mad.

— I’m not laughing. — You lied shamelessly, holding back another chuckle as you watched him huff.

You had made a bet. Seungkwan, always competitive, had sworn he could make ten consecutive shots without missing a single one. Knowing his exaggerated confidence all too well, you had doubted him. What he hadn’t expected was to miss the very last attempt, and now he was standing there, staring at you with feigned indignation while you basked in your victory.

— Come on, admit it. I won. — You teased, tilting your head to the side. — I told you you couldn’t do it.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, tossing the basketball away before stepping closer with slow, deliberate steps.

— So what? I missed a single shot, that means nothing. — He grumbled, his voice lower now, laced with that same playful provocation he always used to throw you off.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you held his gaze.

— On the contrary, it means you have to do whatever I want for a full minute.

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms again as if weighing the idea. The problem was, despite his stubborn front, he already knew he was doomed. The way you looked at him, a mix of mischief and that touch of sweetness that always disarmed him, made his pride waver just a little.

— And what do you want? — He asked, wetting his lips before looking at you more challengingly.

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth of his body despite the cool night breeze. Your fingers trailed slowly up the fabric of his shirt, stopping at the collar.

— You know. — Your voice came out soft, almost a whisper.

Seungkwan let out a short breath through his nose, as if frustrated with himself for giving in so easily, but the way his shoulders relaxed betrayed the truth.

— You’re impossible. — He murmured, and then, before you could respond, he pulled you in by the collar of his own shirt, his lips meeting yours with the perfect mix of urgency and teasing.

The kiss started firm, dominated by his competitive nature, as if he was proving a point. But then, as the seconds passed, the initial tension melted away, giving way to something more genuine. The rhythm slowed, his lips moving against yours more languidly, the heat of his touch consuming every part of you.

Seungkwan cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your skin as he deepened the kiss with a satisfied sigh. He had wanted to tease you, but in the end, he was always the one who got lost first.

When he pulled away, his eyes still closed, he took a moment before finally speaking, his voice a little husky:

— I bet you cheated.

— You missed all on your own, babe. I had nothing to do with it. — You laughed, resting your forehead against his.

He opened his eyes, narrowing them slightly before smirking. — Best out of three.

— If I win again, will you kiss me again?

Seungkwan let out a dramatic sigh, but the smile still lingered, hidden at the corner of his lips. — You’re not gonna win.

But judging by the way he was already pulling you toward the ball, you knew he wouldn’t mind losing again.

Vernon

It was only the first month of your relationship with Vernon, and you were already sure he was everything you could ever want: fun, funny, kind, and even a little shy. But there was a problem.

The kiss… or rather, the lack of one.

Vernon always came up with excuses whenever you had the chance to be alone, and it was starting to seem like he preferred anything over kissing you. So when he invited you over for a movie night at his place… you were surprised, to say the least. Was it finally going to happen? Did he want to make it special?

Everything was perfectly set up, the dim lighting in the living room making the atmosphere even cozier – and more romantic. You and Vernon were sitting on the couch, a forgotten bucket of popcorn beside you, while the movie played on the screen. You were the one who picked the film, excited by its premise – TikTok edits – but before you even pressed play, Vernon had already commented:

 — I'm pretty sure I saw some bad reviews about this one…

You ignored him, more focused on other things than the movie. But as the minutes passed and nothing you expected happened the slow-paced plot and forced dialogues started to weigh down. Boredom filled the air. You sighed, resting your head against the back of the couch, and without realizing it, you started playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck, gently twisting them between your fingers.

Vernon, on the other hand, was distracted, his eyes on the screen, but when you started bouncing your leg non-stop, he smirked, recognizing your restlessness. He didn’t say anything, simply enjoying your impatience in silence.

— This movie is so boring — you huffed impatiently after a few more minutes.

Vernon let out a low chuckle and turned to you, murmuring teasingly: — I told you so.

You huffed again, sinking into the soft couch, but Vernon was more cunning than he seemed, and you barely noticed his warm breath approaching your neck in the dimly lit living room. A shiver ran down your spine as he leaned in closer, lightly rubbing his nose along your neck before leaving a soft kiss on your skin. A mischievous smile immediately formed on your lips.

Slowly, you tilted your head to the side, and your eyes locked on his. For a second, everything faded into the background – the forgotten movie, the justified bad reviews, the untouched popcorn. Vernon still had that playful smile on his lips when you leaned in, and he welcomed you eagerly.

It started slow and comfortable, filled with repressed longing. Vernon gripped the back of your neck firmly, deepening the kiss. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Sensing that, Vernon swiftly slid his free hand down to your ass, pulling you onto his lap with a strong, quick motion.

The movie kept playing on the TV, but your attention was on something far more interesting.

Dino

Your boyfriend had to cancel the dinner you were supposed to have because of the rehearsal for his solo launch, but he felt bad about rescheduling with you, knowing how much those moments meant to you – he also didn’t want to be away from you that night. That’s why he invited you to watch the rehearsal.

The muffled sound of the music still reverberated in the air as Dino monitored each step of the choreography in the mirror like a hawk. During the rehearsal, he barely took his eyes off you. Every movement of yours, every reaction, every subtle and hurried touch during the breaks between the clean-up of the choreography seemed to carry something more, an intensity and veiled yearning between the two of you.

And you felt every furtive glance he cast your way, sensing something growing between you, something irresistible.

Now, at the end of the session, the mood was different. The empty room and the sudden silence seemed to make the atmosphere more tense. Dino approached you unexpectedly, his steps firm, almost challenging. He stopped right in front of you, and in a swift movement, he pushed you against the door, trapping you between his body and the cold wood. His gaze was full of intensity, as if he was measuring the moment with precision.

His lips were close to yours, the heat of his body radiating onto you. The pressure of his presence was almost physical, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, but you also felt a delicious shiver, as if the air around you had changed in temperature.

Time seemed to slow down as he looked into your eyes, trying to gauge if you were ready for the next step, for what had yet to be said. His usual confident smile was now tinged with something more mysterious, something deeper, something between provocation and anticipation.

Dino tilted his head, his eyes locked on yours, and you felt as though the air around you was condensed into a single point of tension. He lowered his voice, almost whispering, and his words were laden with something you could barely understand:

— You know what I want, don’t you?

The question lingered in the air, like a provocation and a promise. He moved closer, his body pressed against yours, and you felt the intensity of his presence like never before. Dino held your chin, tilting your head to the side, and let a couple of kisses and light bites along your neck.

You deeply gasped, feeling the heat of his body against yours. He hid his smile in the crook of your neck, lifted his head up, locking his eyes on yours again, then bit your lower lip, making you whimper softly.

— The others… — you started, but Dino cut your words off before you could continue.

— There’s no one here anymore, beauty — he murmured on your lips, and in the next second, he took your lips in a hungry kiss.

His hands traveled down along your side, lifting you with no effort and pressing your back against the door, his body pressed on yours. After that, he slid his hand right to your butt, squeezing your soft flesh and pulling you against him, pressing your bodies together with fervor and desire.

[kenzdolls]

SHOTA AIZAWA RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS .

⌗ pairing: shota aizawa x gn! ua teacher! reader

⌗ tags: eraserhead x reader, shota aizawa x gn! reader, mha x reader, bnha x reader

⌗ side note: i’m so deep into writer’s block it’s not funny. (◞‸◟,)

FIRST TIME MEETING:

▹ he first notices you when you're efficiently handling a crisis situation without breaking a sweat - competence is attractive to him, and also you didn't scream when that villain's quirk made everything explode into glittery chaos which was honestly more disturbing than the actual danger

▹probably officially meets you in the faculty lounge at 3 am when you're both grading papers and surviving on coffee, and you're the first person who doesn't give him weird looks for having his sleeping bag draped over his shoulders like some kind of comfort-seeking burrito

▹ initially thinks you're "too energetic" but secretly appreciates that you actually get your work done instead of spending meetings talking about "synergy" and "student engagement metrics" kill him now

▹ makes a mental note when you don't try to make small talk during meetings - respects people who value efficiency over asking him how his weekend was (it was spent sleeping and grading, actually, it's always sleeping and grading)

▹ notices you carry around a thermos of coffee that's somehow always full and warm, and he's 67% convinced you have some kind of coffee-related quirk because that's not humanly possible

▹ gets mildly annoyed when you organize his desk without asking, but keeps it that way because it's actually helpful and maybe he likes that someone cares enough to touch his stuff without wanting something

▹ observes you from across the room during faculty meetings, noting how you handle difficult conversations without resorting to present mic's volume levels or all might's aggressive optimism

▹ appreciates that you don't flinch when his eyes glow red during quirk demonstrations, unlike half the new teachers who still think he's going to murder them (he's only thought about it twice)

▹ finds it oddly comforting when you work in comfortable silence together during late-night patrol prep, because you understand that 2 am is not the time for philosophical discussions about hero work

▹ realizes you're one of the few people who doesn't take his bluntness personally and actually seems to prefer it over fake pleasantries - finally, someone with sense.

HIM FALLING IN LOVE:

▹ starts leaving his capture weapon in slightly more organized coils when he knows you'll be in the same room because apparently he has some kind of basic human dignity left

▹finds excuses to patrol the same routes as you "for efficiency purposes" and definitely not because he wants to make sure you don't get yourself killed by being too reckless (you're not reckless, he's just paranoid)

▹ actually starts drinking the fancy coffee you recommended instead of just whatever's cheapest, and pretends the taste difference doesn't matter even though it's obviously superior - he's not becoming bougie, it's just logical

▹ catches himself staring when you're concentrated on work and immediately looks away while mentally cursing himself for being unprofessional

▹ begins to hate when other teachers interrupt conversations between you two, especially mic who has the worst timing in human history and zero understanding of social cues

▹ starts remembering little details about your schedule and preferences without consciously trying, like how you always grade villain analysis essays on thursdays and prefer the blue pens over black ones

▹ gets irrationally annoyed when other pro heroes flirt with you during joint missions and has to resist the urge to use his quirk to make them stop mid-pickup line it would be for the greater good

▹ finds himself staying awake longer when you're both doing late-night paperwork, claiming it's because he's more productive with ambient noise (not because he's enjoying your company, obviously)

▹ unconsciously positions himself between you and potential threats during dangerous situations, then acts like it's just tactical positioning and not protective instincts

▹ actually considers buying new clothes that aren't just "whatever's comfortable and black" before realizing he has no idea what looks good and gives up

▹ starts timing his coffee breaks to coincide with yours and pretends it's a coincidence even though he's literally checking his watch

▹ gets secretly pleased when you laugh at his dry, sarcastic comments because most people just think he's being mean - he is being mean, but like, affectionately

▹ begins to worry more about your safety during missions than he logically should, doing unnecessary risk assessments about your patrol routes (he's not obsessing, it's just thorough planning)

▹ catches himself almost smiling when you successfully handle difficult students, then immediately schools his expression back to neutral too late, mic saw

▹ realizes he's memorized the way you organize your classroom and desk supplies and could probably recreate your filing system from memory - this is definitely normal behavior

HIM AS A S/O:

▹ shows affection through practical gestures - brings you coffee exactly how you like it, leaves snacks on your desk, and pretends he's not keeping track of when you last ate because someone has to make sure you don't die of malnutrition

▹ uses his capture weapon to pull you closer when you're within range, especially if you're being "inefficient" by walking over to him when he could just gently retrieve you

▹ shares his sleeping bag during outdoor missions and training camps, claiming it's for "optimal body heat distribution" and not because he wants to cuddle he wants to cuddle so bad it's embarrassing

▹ remembers every detail about your quirk's limitations and actively works to cover your weaknesses during fights, like some kind of strategically-minded partner

▹ lets you play with his hair when he's too tired to protest, and secretly loves it but will never admit it because that would require acknowledging he has feelings

▹actually starts going to bed at reasonable hours because you've convinced him proper sleep improves his quirk efficiency (and not because you worry about his health, definitely not)

▹ gives you one of his spare capture weapons "for practical purposes" but really because he wants you to have his protection even when he's not around

▹ shows rare moments of softness by pressing his forehead against yours when you're both exhausted after long days, pretending it's just because he's too tired to hold his head up properly

▹ starts eating actual meals instead of just coffee and nutrition bars because you worry about his health, and discovers food actually tastes good when it's not from a vending machine - revolutionary

▹ uses his quirk to stop your alarm clock on weekends so you can sleep in together, then acts innocent when you realize what happened ("did i do that? weird.")

▹ lets you be the only person who can interrupt his naps without getting death glares, though you still get grumpy mumbling and attempts to pull you into the sleeping bag

▹ actually smiles (small ones) when you successfully coordinate combo moves with his erasure quirk, proud of your teamwork and maybe a little turned on by your competence

▹ wraps you in his capture weapon when you're cold instead of offering his jacket like a normal person, because why be conventional when you can be efficient

▹ defends your teaching methods to other faculty members with surprising passion, shutting down criticism with cold logic and barely-concealed threats - no one talks about his partner like that

▹starts keeping a spare hair tie on his wrist for you after noticing you always lose yours, and pretends it's not because he pays attention to every little thing about you

▹ uses his underground hero connections to make sure you're safe even when he's not around, running background checks on suspicious people in your area (totally normal boyfriend behavior)

▹ actually takes days off when you're sick to take care of you, claiming it's logical since he'd be distracted anyway and not because seeing you miserable makes his chest hurt

▹ lets you reorganize his entire living space because "you're more efficient at domestic tasks" and definitely not because he likes evidence that you exist in his space

▹gets genuinely upset when you're injured, even minor cuts, and hovers while pretending he's not hovering ("i'm not hovering, i'm strategically positioning myself for optimal medical assistance")

▹ learns your coffee order at six different places and has backup plans for when your favorite cafe is closed because proper caffeine intake is serious business

▹actually starts taking pictures to "document important moments" and (definitely doesn't have a folder on his phone labeled with your name)

⌗ taglist: [open] ⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @gh0st-g1rll

© property of kenzdolls 2025 — do not copy, steal, or plagiarize my work onto other media platforms.

[sivyera]

Hii! Can I make a request please? Jacob Black and the fem imprint reader. The reader is a human.~ Thanks in advance if you write <3

ofc! i don't know any specific details so i'm just gonna write headcanons.

dating headcanons

jacob black x fem!imprint!human!reader

when jacob found out that YOU are his imprint, he completely forgot about bella

it was indescribable feeling, when his eyes met your

he of course started spending a lot of time with you and the rest is history

he's overprotective, he knows how vampires (the cold ones) are dangerous and it's also a wolf thing (yk what's his, is his)

he hesitated from the start when you suggested to see his wolf form but it took you few seconds and you had a giant puppy in front of you

he lets you ride on his back as he runs through the forest

he's extremely warm so you don't have to worry about being cold, he's always right next to you, ready to hug you and warm you up

he'd make you a bracelet with a tiny wolf attached to it from wood (ofc) it was precise and beautiful work, he put a lot's of love in it which makes it much special

you often help him with his father like when jake is not around and has to do some things like when he's out on patrol or when he's helping fix someones motorcycle, doesn't matter

so you often cook for his father (and for jacob also) or clean his house or just talk

but be prepared for a LOTS of cooking, because they eat a lot!

billy, jacob's father has a special place for you in his heart, you are very kind to him and you make his son happy, he really appreciate you a lot

others from the pack also loves you, especially emily

baking with emily every sunday became a tradition and jacob always makes sure he's first one to taste your baking

but they also tease jacob a lot, paul does it a lot and sometimes it's too much so you have to separate them

the pack is your new family, they protect you a lot, because you are a human plus much younger then emily so

jacob often finds himself drained from the night patrols he sometimes has to take, so all he wants to do after them is lay down on his bed, wrap his arms around your waist and hide his face into your neck, which also happens pretty often

overall he's a real cuddle bug, he's like a baby sometimes; more like a puppy

you are his passenger princess and whenever you two are in his truck, his hand always finds it's way to your thigh

he loves forehead kisses, it's his way of saying 'i love you and you are safe'

whenever you have a sleepover, you will make pizza and eat it while watching some stupid romantic movie like the notebook, but he secretly loves it

while cuddling his arms has to be wrapped around your waist and your back has to be against his chest, that's the only position he feels like he protects you

...and he can reach your every body part

sometimes he teases you by slightly pinching your but and it always makes him laugh when you squeak and then hit his biceps

he rides you to school on his motorcycle and always picks you up after

sometimes you two ride on his bike through Forks at night, just enjoying the moment

[tinyfaust]

I just read an excellent fic yesterday wherein the author fully invented a whole Romulan novel just for Julian and Garak to talk about. Being as invested as I was, I commented on the fic letting the author know how interested I was in an expansion of their ideas of Romulan history or more details about the fictional novel itself.

This beautiful fucking human being replied to be WITH A WHOLE FUCKING ESSAY DETAILING THE PLOT OF THE NOVEL AND THEIR HEADCANONS ON ROMULAN CULTURE IN REGARDS TO ITS INFLUENCE ON THIS FAKE FUCKING NOVEL!!

Im devastated this novel will never exist! I need it so badly! But also like. Star Trek fans? Nobody is doing it like they are. They’re fucking crazy (affectionate). They’re inventing whole cultures, art forms, books, paintings, people, etc.. They’re creating whole Tolkien-esque worlds for a 4k fanfic about a fucking pretty boy doctor and his gay ass lizard homie.

Comment on fics besties! Comment on fics!! Whole worlds of information are waiting to be infodumped on you if you just make it known you liked their work! Everything is yours IF YOU JUST COMMENT ON FICS 💖💖💖💖

[zepskies]

HEADCANON: Doctor's Appointment

HC: How would Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw react when you try to take him to the doctor?

Pairings: Dean x Reader || Beau x Reader || Soldier Boy x Reader || Russell x Reader

AN: This one is a request from my lovely friend @spnbabe67 over on Patreon! 💜

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, literal man children, medical stuff, angst, mentions of PTSD, hints of spice, fluffff

Dean Winchester

"I'm fine."

Ah yes, the same two growly words you've heard for an hour already.

"You're not fine," you testily reply. "You're not even 'Winchester fine.' You wanna know how I know? I'm driving the damn car right now!"

Dean shoots you a warning look.

One, you can tell he wants to say watch it on how you talk about his Baby.

Two, he doesn't want to admit that you're right.

He shifts in his seat with his arms crossed, trying to cover up a wince. It's the only tell that he's uncomfortable, even in pain, other than the fact that you've managed to hijack his car and take him to this damn doctor's appointment.

Dean can count on one hand the number of times he's been in a doctor's office for a genuine ailment, and not just trying to fish for information while impersonating some form of law enforcement.

That's because he's more of a "pour some whiskey on it," patch it up, and forget about it kinda guy.

And if we're talking about hospital stays, then that's usually a "one step away from death's door" kind of visit.

But when you first noticed something was off with Dean (confirming with Sam on the side of your suspicions), you did your damnedest to convince the man that he should see a doctor.

You even make the appointment for him as convenient as possible, around midday, so he doesn't have the excuse of it being too early to disturb his morning, or too late to mess up his afternoon.

Dean is a grumbly grizzly bear who only rolls his eyes in the waiting room when you offer him the clipboard to fill out his medical history.

"This is stupid," he says. "It’s probably just gonna clear up in a week or so anyway."

"You don't know that," you say. And you heave a sigh. Sometimes this man requires every last ounce of your ever-thinning patience.

You reclaim the clipboard and do this part for him too, filling out his fake-ass insurance information with his fake-ass name.

You detail his history and current symptoms to the best of your ability, and you make sure to jot down certain visits to free clinics in his past that he'd probably gloss over.

When the nurse opens the door and calls him back to see the doctor, Dean still glances over at you, mostly annoyed. But underneath, you sense his hesitation.

You slip your hand into his and get up with him. You grace a kiss over his knuckles — a moment of solidarity — and you go with him to one of the back rooms.

You later have to bite your lip against the vindicated urge to say I told you so.

The doctor informs Dean that he likely has a kidney stone.

If possible, Dean is even more sour the whole car ride home. He's convinced all the vegetables you've been trying to get him to eat are the culprit.

"This is what I get for eating fucking rabbit food," he grumbles. He levies a finger at you. "See? I told you. Nothing good comes of it."

"Right," you snort. "Zucchini is what's got you're, uh, pipe all blocked up."

But seeing the disgruntled look on his face, you remember just how much pain he's been trying to cover up for the past week. How many times you've found him hunched in the bathroom, dreading a piss.

You reach over and try to soothe him, gently stroking his thigh.

"It's okay, baby. We'll get the official test results soon. In the meantime, just keep drinking lots of water and get some actual rest."

"Whatever," he mutters.

But underneath the embarrassment, the shit, I'm getting old bit cropping back up again, and the Dean Winchester quirk of not wanting to be fussed over, not wanting to be seen as weak or ridiculous — what finally surfaces past all that is you.

Specifically, how much you push him to take care of himself.

Besides Sam, you're the only one who manages to keep him in check, the only one who cares that much, that you'd literally try to steal his car.

Yeah, I love you tends to cut through pretty much all the other bullshit.

Dean might not always express it words, but he does it now, taking your hand off his lap and pressing a kiss to your wrist, right over your pulse point.

You briefly take your eyes off the road to glance over at him, smiling. He's going to be out of commission for a while until this little problem clears up, in more ways than one.

The great Dean Winchester.

Beats Death itself, too many times to count.

Felled by pebble in his...well...proverbial shoe.

You try to hide your amusement, if not your affection. You bite your lip hard.

"Shut up," he warns, even though his lips twitch upward.

Your snort of laughter escapes before you can reign it in.

Beau Arlen

Beau is resistant at first, but he's probably the easiest to wrangle into seeing the doctor, whether it's yearly checkups or a man flu gotten out of control.

("You know what, my throat still feels weird on the left side, especially when I swallow. Feels scratchy and, uh, kinda hurts. You think I should get it looked at? What if it's laryngitis, or pneumonia, or God forbid, throat cancer. I mean, throat cancer, honey! That's nothin' to laugh at.")

You wish he'd have that "proactive" mentality with other areas of his health too, like not overworking himself at the precinct.

But when it comes to one exam in particular, he's your typical male of a certain age.

No matter how many times you remind him and write down the appointment on the calendar stuck to the fridge so he doesn't forget, he conjures some excuse for why he couldn't make it.

At first it's begrudgingly amusing, but by the third time, you're concerned, and even annoyed that he isn't taking his health more seriously.

"Look, I know it's not exactly pleasant, but this stuff is important. You gotta take care of yourself," you say.

You know you don't have to remind him that he has a daughter, but you will pull that card if you have to.

"Yeah, I know. It's just, uh..." Beau trails off, hands on his hips. He doesn't know what to tell you to make you understand how much he'd rather not go to this appointment.

"It's just a prostate exam, babe. I'll bet it's not half as invasive as a pap smear," you say wryly.

Beau shakes his head at you. "That very well may be, but believe you me, no man wants a latex finger up his..."

You raise your brows and tilt your head with a smile. "Well, you know. Some guys actually—"

Beau waves a hand at whatever you were going to say next.

"You know what, forget I said anything. I'd rather just live my life not knowing what's down there. Really, I'm good."

You utter a laugh, but you sidle up to him and grasp the open edges of his jacket. You turn your face up to him with a more sensuous smile.

"You don't mind when I do it," you tease.

Beau actually blushes. His cheeks and the tips of his ears tinge pink.

He clears his throat, his hands settling on the curve of your waist.

"Well, that's different," he says. His voice pitches lower, his green eyes taking on a slight mischievous gleam. "You're just teasin' the cave. You're not looking for coal."

Laughter bursts out of you like a gut punch. Your forehead falls against his chest as your entire body shakes with giggles.

Beau wraps you up in his arms. He tries and fails to temper his grin, even though his cheeks are still burning.

"All right, fine. I'll go," he says. "But I don't want to hear a damn peep out of you when I get back."

Soldier Boy (Ben)

(Oh, good fucking luck on this one.)

Ben rarely, if ever, gets sick. Of course, he's also nearly invulnerable.

However, you've been trying to get him to see a different kind of medical professional.

"Excuse me?" he growls. The first time you suggest it, he dismissed the idea with a roll of his eyes, thinking you were just trying to get a rise out of him. He doesn't appreciate you bringing it up again. "You better be fucking kidding."

"Ben..." You try to ply him with a gentle hand on his arm, but he shrugs you off, too irritated to curb the impulse.

"I'm fucking crazy, is that it? That what you're trying to say?" His voice raises, notch after notch. "I don't need a goddamn shrink!"

"I didn't say you were crazy!" you say. It's hard not to match his volume, but you manage to stand your ground while he huffs and puffs and eventually storms out.

You get discouraged and frustrated yourself, but you cling to every scrap of patience you can muster up for this man.

It's gonna take a few tries.

You start to suggest that maybe he should start easing up on the weed and the booze too.

Any time he snaps at you, you remind him that for as much shit as you've put up with him so far, this is the kind of shit that'll send you packing. Leaving his ass. For good.

He volleys back with empty words. "Fine, fucking leave."

You know they're empty, because every time you've called his bluff and packed a bag, he stops you.

"All right, enough. You've proved your fucking point."

After that, he tries to cut back on the booze, at least. He watches you pour out the Grey Goose and the Patrón.

Fucking fine by him. He's lost the taste for vodka, let alone that frilly French shit, and the cheap tequila.

But choking off the vein of one vice just makes another twice as strong.

Ultimately, it doesn't fix the problem either.

There's the time Ben blows a hole in the roof of your house (after a nightmare, he refuses to admit).

And there's a second time too. A third close call, and Ben pushes you clean off the bed so you won't get hurt.

If that didn't do it, he finally gets the picture after the second pink line appears on that white stick.

It now lies on your nightstand while you and Ben lay tangled together, bare skin against bare, flushed, sweaty skin.

A celebration, if you will.

His big hand lies splayed over your belly, protective, possessive, and deep down...grateful.

You glance up at the patched ceiling. Ben follows your gaze. His contentment fades into a frown, just like yours.

Both of you are thinking the same thing, if in different flavors of concern. Anxiety. (Guilt.)

"It's different now. You know that, right?" you say quietly. "If we're going to do this, you and me together, then I need you to protect us. Protect us from you."

At this point, you know he won't see a psychiatrist for his PTSD; not if it's to help himself (God forbid he admit that he needs it).

But if it's to protect you and your child, his own child...

Ben swallows a few acidic ounces of his pride.

Despite every cell in body that fights against it, he gets in his car the very next day and shows up for the appointment you made for him with Dr. David.

("What kind of quack fucking doctor goes by his first name, anyway? Christ.")

After the first couple of painfully awkward sessions, it's not so bad, Ben discovers.

He has a willing (heavily paid) audience for all of his stories from "the good old days."

Every gushy detail.

Russell Shaw

Russell is always quick to give reassurances, to downplay, to tell you that he's good.

But the day he comes home from a job with his bag hanging from his fingertips, almost dragging on the floor, his movements stiff as a rail — your heart sinks into your stomach.

"Hey, baby," he greets you tiredly, even tries to kiss you, but you're too busy running gentle hands over his arms and chest. Searching.

"Hmm, someone's missed me. Miss Handsy-yy-ahhh..." His playful quip dies the moment you find it.

Under his jacket lies the shoddy patch job on the bullet wound in his arm, located a few inches below the shoulder, just barely hidden by his sleeve.

"What the fuck is this?" you snap, half in anger, half in worry as tears spring hot in your eyes.

Russell immediately goes into damage control, soothing a hand down your arm and meeting your gaze.

"Hey, I'm okay. It's just a graze."

"Yeah fucking right. You're still bleeding!"

"Ehh, yeah, but no biggie. I've got some tools in the car—"

"No! We're going to the hospital."

"Sweetheart—"

"Right now! Let's go."

The man doesn't have the heart to argue with you too much after that. He knows he should've taken proper care of this before he got home. He really just wanted to, well, get home. To you.

But he regrets scaring you. He regrets making you worry.

He brushes the tears from your eyes and is grateful you don't ask what happened. He can't really tell you, even if he wanted to. His contract work with Horizon keeps his lips sealed for your safety, above all other reasons.

Only now does he begin to realize just how fucking unfair that is.

It really hits him when you sit with him for an hour and a half in the Emergency Department, waiting after the guy who fell off his moped, a kid with a little green army man stuck up his nose ("Hey, retro," Russell whispers to you), and a lady who can't seem to stop hiccuping.

Russell takes in a deep breath. He leans over to your ear.

"You know, we could just fix this up at home. A little needle and thread and some alcohol. Perfect First Aid kit," he says.

You narrow your gaze at him. "We're waiting to see a doctor. And don't think I'm done with you. When we get home, prepare to get punished."

A little smirk tugs at his lips. He brushes said lips across the back of your ear. "What am I, a little kid?"

You smile slightly as well.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me when you're hurt and try to cover it up like a little kid, that's how I'm gonna treat you."

Russell chuckles. His hand slips over your thigh.

"Gotta say, I'm kind of liking the sound of punishment. What'd you have in mind, sweetheart? Gonna spank me?"

And he's willing to give you more ideas.

You roll your eyes. Despite wanting to remain strong, his touch, the sensation of his lips brushing your ear sends a shiver curling down your spine.

"Oh, you just wait."

AN: lol I always have so much fun writing these. Let me know which one was your favorite this time! 💕

@waynes-multiverse You gave me another perfect little tidbit for Beau on Man Flu that made it into this one. 😂

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Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Beau Arlen Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Russell Shaw Masterlist

Main Masterlist 

Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

@kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato

@mostlymarvelgirl @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@deans-spinster-witch @sanscas @hobby27 @kaleldobrev @spnwoman

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat @pieandmonsters @globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @deansbbyx @chernayawidow

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @twinkleinadiamondsky

@my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @rizlowwritessortof @cookiechipdough @mrsjenniferwinchester

@fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378 @deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused

@mrlonelycat @deans-daydream @leigh70 @aylacavebear @kmc1989

@siampie @rubyvhs @winchestergirl2 @winchester-whiskey

[stellaspectral]

Hi! Any headcanons for dating rise donnie?

A/N: Sure! 😊

Dating Rise Donnie (SFW)

💜 ROTTMNT Donatello/Gender Neutral Reader 💜

CWs: None. All characters are aged-up.

Donnie’s initial attempts at flirting might just sound like his usual sarcastic commentary, leaving you wondering if he’s insulting you or hitting on you.

But when he does decide to ask you out, expect something needlessly complex. Maybe a holographic presentation detailing the benefits of a romantic partnership, or a custom-built gadget meant to deliver the message that backfires spectacularly.

His hyper-focus, occasional arrogance (masking insecurity), and social awkwardness require understanding. You’ll need to learn to read between the lines of his sarcasm.

Since direct emotional expression isn’t his forte, you’ll become an expert at reading his micro-expressions, the specific type of sarcastic comment he uses when he’s secretly pleased, or the way he fidgets with his goggles when nervous.

Over time, you might notice moments where a genuine, non-sarcastic compliment slips out before he can catch it. He’ll likely blush, stammer, and immediately try to cover it with more sarcasm, but you heard it.

If you’re upset, his instinct isn’t always a hug (though he might learn). It’s to solve the problem. You’ll need to gently explain that sometimes you just need empathy.

Donnie’s love language is acts of service. He’ll build you custom gadgets to solve your problems, upgrade your tech, etc. Need something specific? He can probably build it.

Verbal affection, on the other hand, is … awkward. Compliments might come out sounding like technical assessments. Genuine, heartfelt words are rare. He might stutter or get flustered trying to express them.

Donnie isn’t always the most physically demonstrative of affection, partly due to his focus and often his touch aversion. Initiating small gestures and seeing how he reacts is best. Once comfortable, he might surprise you with possessive hand-holding or leaning into your space.

He doesn’t display overt PDA. But maybe him resting his hand possessively on the back of your chair, angling himself between you and perceived ‘threats’ (like overly friendly strangers), or using custom tech (like a paired communication device) that subtly marks you as connected to him.

After a huge success (a battle won, an invention perfected, etc.), he might be so overcome with adrenaline and relief that he actually initiates a brief, possibly clumsy hug or leans against you. Don’t make a big deal out of it; just accept the rare physical vulnerability.

When he seems extra arrogant or dismissive, it sometimes masks insecurity. He might fish for compliments by presenting an invention and asking for your ‘objective analysis,’ secretly hoping you’ll just say it’s amazing.

Praise is his kryptonite. He thrives on validation, especially regarding his intellect and inventions. Genuinely praising his work or intelligence will make him puff up with pride.

When he excitedly explains the intricacies of quantum physics or the schematics for his latest battle shell upgrade for twenty minutes straight, he’s sharing his passion with you. A big sign of trust and affection on his part.

If you’re passionate about something, he might suddenly become an expert on it overnight after intense research. He might not share the passion, but he’ll understand its mechanics and history, which is his way of connecting.

Prepare for dates involving beta-testing his latest invention, competitive video game marathons (he will gloat), trips to the junkyard for components, or maybe even falling down rabbit holes on weird corners of the internet together.

Though a significant portion of your quality time together will likely be spent in his lab. Sometimes you’ll be helping (handing him tools, being a sounding board, etc.). Other times you’ll just be chilling amidst the controlled chaos while he hyper-focuses. Oh—and bring snacks. He forgets to eat.

Eventually, you’ll get your own lab space. It might just be a small, meticulously organized corner of his lab initially, but he’ll later designate a space for your stuff or for you to comfortably hang out.

Once you’re his person, he’s incredibly protective. He’ll use his tech and intellect to keep you safe, even if his methods are … unconventional.

If you’re ever in genuine danger, the sarcastic, dramatic Donnie vanishes. He becomes ruthlessly efficient, calculating, and terrifyingly focused on neutralizing the threat and getting you to safety. His tech becomes lethal, his plans precise.

One of the best signs he’s truly comfortable is when he can just exist in the same space as you, both doing your own things (him tinkering, you reading/scrolling/etc.), without needing constant interaction.

He secretly loves being taken care of. When he’s truly exhausted or sick (which he’ll deny until he collapses), having you bring him soup, enforce rest, or just quietly sit with him means more than he’ll admit.

It takes immense trust for him to let you see his experiments blow up (literally or figuratively) without him getting overly defensive or dramatic. If he can sigh, complain about the variables, and start cleaning up with you there, you’re truly integrated into his process.

For Donnie, acknowledging the validity and soundness of your reasoning, especially during a discussion or debate, is one of the highest forms of respect and affection he can offer. It means he sees you as an intellectual equal.

[flightlessribbons]

MINI MENACE ERA: COLLEGE KIDS

I have a part two that I’ll add to a reblog of this sometime, but here’s the first part for their college days! I couldn’t draw everything I wanted to, so more blabbering and elaboration under the cut!

Since this AU has turned into a fanfiction based off the concept art, the characterizations and roles of the characters can be pretty detached from canon- so just a disclaimer for that. Canon is merely a suggestion- and I’m not listening to it most of the time.

Their majors: 

Sabine Cheng: fashion/ business

Pia Lahiffe: education

Nathalie Sancoeur: business/ economics

Otis Cesaire: environmental science

Gabriel Agreste: fashion/ art history

Emilie Sphinx: fashion/ performing arts

Amelie Sphinx: business/ economics

Andre Bourgeois: law/ (later) education

(Tom Dupain works full time at his dad’s bakery)

SUMMARY (and some extra details) OF THE HEADCANONS DRAWN: (since I am too lazy to do my full transcript tonight)

Sabine and Pia have been best friends since they were 13. Pia knows she’s Ladybug, and the two work together at Master Fu’s shop.

Pia knows that Fu has the turtle miraculous and makes sure he’s not overworking himself in his superhero retirement.

Sabine’s an open book with her emotions, doubly so when she was younger in college. Her fuse is short, and she’ll say one of her flaws is her pettiness. 

Andre is the estranged son of a corrupt politician that works with Richard Sphinx. His dad originally paid for his tuition (to keep Andre away from him) but eventually cuts that off when he officially disowned him.

He and Audrey met like once at a social event years ago. Andre does not remember this, Audrey does but only because she thought his suit was so fucking ugly.

Audrey is the daughter of a Pergue (Sphinx’s company) investor. She eventually gets an ultimatum to get married, or else all her cards and cash get cut off.

Remembering “Ugly Suit” Andre has recently lost his dad’s tuition money, she asks him to marry her in return for her paying for his school. Andre becomes a trophy wife on paper, and the two never get closer than that. She writes his checks, he doesn’t get into scandals- easy!

Gabriel’s dream was to have his own atelier and specialize in lace products. His designs really push the limits of lace and beadwork. (He’s a huge nerd.) He never wanted a big brand.

Emilie has a crush on him and tries to talk to him often. Gabriel is conflicted between talking to the pretty girl in his class and interacting with the daughter of the enemy. 

Emilie dresses eccentrically. Half of the time it’s costumes for theatre events, and the other half is her own style. (You can never tell which is which though- she’s always dressed like a time traveller.)

Otis is in the same econ class as Sabine and befriends her (Nathalie and Emilie are also in that class but they don’t interact with Otis or Sabine) and mentions her to Tom as a “girl he’d like.” Tom insists that’s what Otis says about every girl with a bob and a fringe.

Tom first sees Sabine that same day bursting in the bakery to ask for cookies while in a frenzy. Otis says it is the calmest he’d ever seen her. 

Amelie has a huge crush on Nathalie, who is an intern assistant for Richard Sphinx. She refuses to act on her crush…as Amelie anyways ;)

MISC HEADCANONS FOR COLLEGE MM ERA:

Sabine, Pia, Otis, Andre, and Gabriel are the group for the longest time. They’re not all that close to the Sphinx twins in the beginning, but they get integrated into the group once Gabriel and Emilie start dating

How they all met/ some dynamic notes:

 Sabine and Pia were childhood friends

Tom and Otis were friends since in high school

Tom befriended Andre when he became a regular at the bakery

Sabine met Gabriel and Emilie in their shared fashion courses

Amelie and Nathalie have so many common classes bc of their shared majors

Sabine, Pia, Otis, and Andre would study and hangout at the bakery, Tom would feed them

Sabine and Otis are the outspoken ones in the group, they bond over complaining. 

Everyone admires Tom’s boundless optimism, the freebie baked goods are just a bonus

Andre and Sabine are unexpectedly close. Her rough, and oftentime bad, jokes get both of them to laugh until their stomachs hurt. No one else finds them funny, but they find the twos’ laughter contagious.

Gabriel and Pia like to work in silence together, they’re both grateful someone else favors a more quiet setting to focus

Sabine is originally intimidated by Emilie’s enthusiastic and extroverted nature, but they eventually bond over fashion designs even before the Sphinx twins join the group

MISC CONT:

Sabine’s designs are more conceptual and abstract, often trying to emulate feelings or experiences. Can seem a little scrappy to some, but sturdy compositions. She also thinks about ways to integrate her pieces into performance art works.

Gabriel’s designs are based on pushing technical craftsmanship, mostly detailwork. The pieces can seem fragile or delicate because of their meticulousness. They usually have some historical influence, but don't look for accuracy. 

Emilie’s designs show off her theatre inspirations, and are often very costumey in nature. Similar to Gabriel, she enjoys historical influence, but isn’t as detail oriented as him. She favors exaggerating the historical features of costumes and playing around with silhouettes.

Amelie often “runs into” Nathalie while she’s out patrolling as Chat Noir. The two get closer when she’s transformed, and Nathalie develops a crush on Stray.

HOW THEY GOT THEIR MIRACULOUS (and reasons for fighting Pergue):

Sabine Cheng: got from her late grandfather when she was a teenager. Fights for revenge for his death and the other victims of Sphinx’s crimes.

Otis Cesaire: got it from an old mentor. Hates Pergue’s monopoly of businesses and services.

Gabriel Agreste: found brooch in his great-grandmother’s sewing box. Believes that Sphinx has the other half of a missing tapestry of his great-grandmother’s.

Emilie Sphinx: got the broken peacock miraculous from her dad. Works for Sphinx when transformed.

Amelie Sphinx: got it as a family heirloom from her mother before she passed. Wants to see her father fall.

Andre Bourgeois: his paternal grandmother gave it to him. Wants to expose the corrupt politicians  and investors like his father that collaborate and fund Pergue.

Tom, Pia, and Nathalie do not have miraculous