#..❄️requests

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 &TEAM REACTION TO YOU BEING SICK AND CLINGY

&team ot9 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : by ❄️🌟 anon! ☆ — &t masterlist

K :

The rain taps gently on the windows like a lullaby, soft and steady. You’re bundled under a mountain of blankets on the couch, cheeks flushed with fever, body heavy and aching. It’s the kind of sick that turns the world blurry around the edges. All you want is him, his warmth, his steadiness, his voice.

K returns from the kitchen, balancing a cup of warm tea in one hand and a cool cloth in the other. The moment his eyes meet yours, wide and quietly pleading, his expression softens.

“Still not feeling good, huh?” he murmurs, setting the tea down carefully.

You don’t respond, just stretch your arms out like a child asking to be held. There’s no shame in it, not with him. K gives a small laugh, breathy and fond, before settling down beside you. He lets you curl into him, your head resting against his chest as his arm wraps around your shoulders like second nature.

“Clingy today,” he teases gently, fingers stroking your hair. “Guess I don’t mind.”

And he doesn’t. Not at all. If anything, it makes him feel needed in a quiet, important way. His presence grounds you, his heartbeat beneath your ear like a lullaby, strong and constant. He doesn’t try to pull away or tell you to rest more or even shift to get comfortable himself, he simply holds you, body curved around yours like a shelter.

As the storm outside rumbles softly and the fever makes you drowsy, K whispers now and then, his voice low and careful.

“Just sleep, yeah? I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And he is. Even when you doze off mid-sentence, even when you grip his hoodie like a lifeline. Even when you murmur his name in your sleep.

K stays, warm, quiet, and unshakably patient, like a lighthouse in your stormy head.

FUMA :

You didn’t mean to be this clingy. Really, you didn’t.

But being sick somehow reduces you to your most vulnerable self, and the moment Fuma walks through the door, kicking off his shoes and calling out your name, you shuffle toward him like a lost puppy. You’re bundled in a hoodie far too big for you, his, actually, and your face is flushed from fever, eyes glassy and rimmed with exhaustion.

He stops mid-step, eyes instantly scanning your expression.

“Ahh, you’re still burning up,” he murmurs, setting down the grocery bag of medicine and soup. “Did you miss me that much?”

You nod wordlessly and reach for him, hands outstretched. Fuma doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second. He closes the distance and wraps his arms around you, slow and secure, like he’s putting the whole world back together for you.

“You’re really attached today, huh?” he teases softly, rocking you a little in his arms. His voice is light, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips, and something quieter in his eyes, concern, affection, relief that you’re still you, even if you’re sick and clinging like Velcro.

Fuma is practical about the situation, he always is. He helps you back to the couch, makes sure you’re wrapped in blankets just right, and insists you take your medicine. But all the while, you don’t let go of his sleeve, or the hem of his shirt, or his hand.

And Fuma lets you.

In fact, once everything is settled, he settles in right next to you, letting your legs tangle with his as he adjusts the pillow behind your back. His hand finds your hair, smoothing it gently.

“You’re so clingy when you’re sick,” he says again, half-laughing.

“But I like it,” he adds, quieter this time. “Makes me feel like I can actually take care of you.”

He stays through the sniffles, the dramatic groans, the quiet neediness. And when your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady under your cheek, you hear him hum something soft, a melody just for you, warm and healing.

With Fuma, even feeling miserable is oddly comforting.

NICHOLAS :

It starts with a text.

“I feel gross. I miss you.”

Simple. Half-whiny. Barely coherent. But Nicholas knows your moods like the back of his hand, and this one is clear: you’re sick, and you’re reaching out.

He’s at your door not long after, hood up, arms full of things you didn’t ask for but he knew you needed. Ginger tea, congee in a thermos, cough drops, and that soft little plush you once pointed out in a shop window and promptly forgot.

You crack the door open, nose red and eyes heavy, and Nicholas doesn’t say anything at first. He just smiles, gentle and lopsided, with a softness that could melt through the thickest layers of congestion.

“I got you the ugly little bear thing,” he says, holding it up. “Thought it might cheer you up.”

You don’t even look at it. You just hold your arms out and make the smallest sound: “Come here.”

Nicholas chuckles, stepping inside without hesitation. He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat, letting you wrap your arms around his middle like it’s the only thing holding you together. You bury your face against his chest, and he holds you there, one hand stroking your back, the other still holding the bear.

“You’re so clingy when you’re sick,” he murmurs, but he’s already guiding you to the couch, letting you drape yourself over him like a weighted blanket in reverse.

He lets you lie on him while he talks, nothing too loud, just a soft stream of comforting nonsense. Updates on his day, a dumb thing Taki said during practice, how the barista at his favorite café messed up his order but smiled too sweetly for him to complain. All while his fingers run gently through your hair, slow and rhythmic.

“You want tea? Or just me?”

“…Just you,” you mumble, voice thick with congestion and drowsiness.

Nicholas kisses the crown of your head, laughter dancing behind his breath. “Lucky for you, I brought both.”

And when you fall asleep, arm slung around his waist, breath hitching slightly from your stuffy nose, he doesn’t move. Not an inch. He just holds you tighter, tucks the blanket up around your shoulders, and stays.

Because if being sick turns you into a koala, Nicholas is more than happy to be your tree.

EJ :

When Euijoo gets your text, just a sad little “i don’t feel good”, he’s already halfway to grabbing his coat. He doesn’t even wait for you to ask. He just knows. You don’t get sick often, but when you do? You turn into a magnet for comfort, and there’s nowhere you’d rather be than wrapped up in him.

He knocks softly, even though you told him to come in. That’s just how he is, gentle, respectful, always checking in. When he sees you, bundled in blankets with a flushed face and bleary eyes, something in his expression softens completely.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees in front of you like it’s instinct. “You look like you fought a war in your sleep.”

You pout, throat too sore to joke back, and instead you tug at his hoodie, wordlessly asking him to come closer.

Euijoo does, without hesitation. He sits beside you on the couch, letting you flop across his lap like a tired cat. His hand finds your back, rubbing slow circles, and he leans down to press a featherlight kiss to your temple.

“You didn’t even take your meds yet, did you?” he says, voice warm with fondness, not scolding. “You’re just waiting for me to take care of everything, huh?”

You nod pitifully. He chuckles.

“Okay. I’ll be your nurse,” he says softly, brushing hair away from your forehead. “But you owe me endless cuddles when you’re better.”

The rest of the day is hushed and slow. Euijoo speaks in a near-whisper, like even his voice might disturb your rest. He wipes your forehead with a cool cloth, feeds you warm spoonfuls of porridge with quiet concentration, and murmurs encouragements like, “You’re doing so well,” even when all you’re doing is sipping water.

And when you get especially clingy, arms wrapped around his middle, refusing to let him go even to grab your tissues, he just laughs under his breath and adjusts so you’re both lying down, your face tucked under his chin.

“Alright, alright,” he says gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Later, when you fall asleep on his chest, Euijoo doesn’t move a muscle. He just holds you like something delicate, brushing lazy patterns across your back and whispering, “You’re safe. Just rest.”

Because for Euijoo, love isn’t loud. It’s in the stillness. The care. The way he lets you lean on him completely, especially when you’re too tired to stand on your own.

YUMA :

When you message Yuma saying, “I feel like a soggy tissue. please help,” he sends a voice note back that’s 80% gasp, 10% dramatic wail, and 10% “I’m on my way.”

He shows up at your door in his favorite hoodie, a paper bag of cozy supplies tucked under one arm, and his hair slightly tousled like he ran all the way. He doesn’t even wait for you to greet him properly, he’s already toeing off his shoes and marching in with a determined look.

“Okay, first of all, soggy tissue??” he scolds playfully, kneeling beside you with a hand on your forehead. “That’s way too accurate. You do look kind of… squishy.”

You groan in protest, and he grins, dimples flashing.

“Sorry, sorry,” he adds, voice softening. “But you still look cute. Like a fevered little bunny.”

You pout dramatically, reaching out for him. Yuma doesn’t hesitate, he slides right next to you, lets you bury your face in his chest, and wraps you up like it’s second nature. His arms are warm and secure, but never smothering. He has a way of making you feel held and free all at once.

“I brought everything,” he says proudly. “Cough drops, that weird rice porridge you like, and the fluffy socks that make you feel like you’re walking on clouds.”

He makes the porridge in your kitchen like he’s done it a hundred times, humming a tune while you watch him from the couch, your blanket pulled up to your nose. When he brings it to you, he blows on each spoonful and feeds it to you, smiling when your eyes flutter closed in comfort.

“Good?” he whispers, voice low and sweet.

You nod and tug his sleeve.

When the clinginess kicks in hard, when you refuse to let go of him even while half-asleep, Yuma just laughs and readjusts so your limbs can tangle comfortably.

“You’re like velcro,” he teases softly, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “But I don’t mind. I’m your plushie today, huh?”

And that’s exactly how he acts. He lets you cling. Lets you sleep on him, talk nonsense in your fever haze, whine that your throat feels like sandpaper, and he’s there through it all with warmth and humor and an unshakable tenderness. He even teaches you a goofy healing dance he made up on the spot, just to make you laugh, your stuffy giggles muffled into his hoodie.

When you finally fall asleep on his chest, his hand strokes your hair with rhythmic care.

JO :

You’re not even sure how he got there so fast. One moment, you send a pathetic little text, “i’m sick and sad. come hold me.”, and the next, your apartment smells like the familiar mix of clean cotton and Jo’s subtle cologne.

He doesn’t knock loudly. He slips in like the gentlest breeze, a grocery bag in one hand and a thick blanket folded over the other. He closes the door with a soft click, kicks off his shoes, and glances around until he sees your bundled form on the couch.

“Hey, angel,” he says, his voice low and soft, a kind of hush that feels made for quiet rooms and pounding headaches. “You look like a little ghost.”

You peek out from your blanket cocoon with a groggy whimper, arms stretching toward him in silent desperation.

Jo doesn’t hesitate. He kneels beside you, brushing a hand across your forehead with featherlight fingers. “Hot,” he murmurs, brows knitting. “But still cute. That should be illegal.”

You try to smile, but mostly you just whimper again, sick and clingy and needy in the way that only comes when your body gives up and begs for comfort.

Jo climbs onto the couch without another word, adjusting the blanket so you’re curled against his chest. He smells like warm laundry and, pencil graphite, and the faint trace of caramel from the candy he’s always chewing. His arms slide around you like they were built for it. Like he was meant to hold you when you’re feeling like death warmed over.

“I brought honey lemon tea,” he murmurs into your hair. “And a forehead pack. You wanna eat something, or just hold onto me for a while?”

Your only answer is to grip the front of his sweatshirt with trembling fingers.

Jo just smiles.

“Alright,” he whispers. “I’m here. You can cling all you want.”

And you do. Every time he tries to move, to fetch your tea, or grab the remote, you tug him back down with the tiniest whine, your fingers curled in his sleeve like a lifeline. He teases you gently, never mean, never frustrated.

“So needy,” he says with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to your fever-warm temple.

When you finally doze off, breath hitching a little with the congestion, Jo doesn’t move. He stays perfectly still, one hand stroking slow circles over your back, the other resting over your heartbeat like he’s syncing with it.

HARUA :

You hadn’t meant to whine so much over the phone, but your throat hurt, your nose was stuffy, and nothing felt right unless Harua was near. So when you texted him with a half-coherent, “I feel awful. Please come over,” you weren’t expecting him to drop everything.

But he did.

There’s a knock at the door just a little while later, polite, light, exactly like him, and when you open it, there he is. Face soft with concern, arms full of everything you didn’t know you needed: your favorite snacks, cold medicine, a bottle of water with a silly sticker on it, and the plushie he accidentally won for you at a claw machine last month.

“Hi,” he says quietly, eyes scanning your face. “You look miserable.” Then, after a heartbeat: “Still cute, though.”

You blink up at him, pouty and congested, and then you just… melt. Arms thrown around his middle, face buried in his hoodie. He lets out a small breath of surprise, but wraps his arms around you without hesitation, pressing his cheek gently against your hair.

“You missed me that much?” he murmurs, voice like warm tea.

Once he gets you back to the couch, he’s calm and efficient, the kind of quiet care that never feels rushed. He puts on a cozy playlist, tucks you in like he’s wrapping a delicate gift, and brushes your hair back with the tips of his fingers. He doesn’t make a big deal of your clinginess, not even when you insist on holding his hand the entire time.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures softly, squeezing your fingers. “Even if you fall asleep like this.”

When you rest your head on his shoulder, he shifts just enough to make it comfortable for you, then stays perfectly still. His other hand starts tracing slow, soothing circles along your back, not to tease, not to distract, just to be there.

Harua doesn’t say much. He doesn’t have to. It’s in the way he stays close, the way he patiently listens when you groggily ramble, the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in the world, even with tissues stuffed up your sleeve and your voice two octaves lower than usual.

“You can be as clingy as you want,” he whispers when your fingers twitch around his. “I don’t mind. I… like being needed.”

You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat under your ear and the faint hum of him quietly singing something soft, just for you.

TAKI :

You’re wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, nose red and stuffy, eyes droopy from a fever that refuses to break. Everything aches, your head, your throat, your muscles, and worst of all, you miss Taki. He’s your comfort. Your warm hoodie in winter. Your favorite song. Your peace.

So you do what any reasonable, clingy, miserable person would do: you send him a pitiful voice memo that’s mostly sniffles and his name said like a whimper.

Not even twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings. You peek out from your cocoon of tissues and wool to see Taki, cheeks flushed from the cold, carrying a bag way too big for someone his size. “Emergency delivery!” he says cheerfully, flashing you the brightest smile he can manage, even though he clearly clocked how awful you look.

He doesn’t mind. Not even a little.

“You poor thing,” he coos, toeing off his shoes before making a beeline to the couch. “You look like a baby duck who got caught in the rain.”

You groan, flopping over, already reaching for him. “C’mere.”

Taki laughs softly and slides right in next to you without hesitation, kicking off his jacket and letting you climb into his lap, head on his shoulder, arms curled around him. He shifts carefully so you’re tucked just right, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Like it’s natural.

“You can cling all you want,” he whispers, nose brushing your temple. “I like it. Makes me feel important.”

While you mumble something incomprehensible into his chest, he hums a little song, one he made up on the spot, just to lull you into comfort. His fingers stroke gently through your hair, careful not to tug, and when he notices you shivering, he tightens the blanket around both of you like he’s the protector of your tiny, warm world.

He keeps talking in that low, sweet voice of his, saying the most random, comforting things, about a dog he saw on the way over, how he almost slipped on the ice, how he thinks you’d look really cute in matching pajamas with him. “Next time I’ll bring some. Fluffy ones. Blue, maybe? Or should we go pink?”

You’re too sick to answer, but you smile anyway.

And when you start to drift off, still clinging to him like a lifeline, he whispers one last thing before pressing a kiss to your hair:

“You always take care of me, even when you don’t know it. So let me do it for you now, okay?”

MAKI :

You’re usually the one bouncing around with him, matching his jokes, nudging his side, keeping up with his endless energy. But today… you’re a puddle on the couch. Blankets up to your chin, cheeks flushed with fever, and your voice reduced to a pathetic croak. You want tea, soup, and above all, Maki.

You shoot him a sleepy text: “come here :( I’m sick and sad.”

And like magic, he appears.

He bursts into the room still catching his breath, cheeks pink from rushing over. “You should've told me you were sick sooner!” he exclaims, already dropping his bag and making a beeline for you.

You sit up with a pout, arms stretched out in a silent plea. “C’mere. Please.”

“Okay, okay, I’m here,” he chuckles, instantly softening as he kneels beside you. His hands are warm and surprisingly steady as they brush your hair back. “You look like a tired little dumpling. Still cute, though.”

Normally he’s the hyper one, cracking jokes and bouncing around, but right now? He slows everything down. He tucks himself beside you, gently adjusting your blanket, and lets you lean into him as if he’s your pillow. You’re clingy, hugging his waist, burying your face in his hoodie, and Maki melts.

He rests his chin on top of your head and whispers, “You can be clingy all day. I don’t mind. I like it when you need me.”

He gets up only to grab a warm drink, tucking it carefully into your hands before crawling right back under the blanket. And when you try to apologize for being gross or needy, he just laughs. “You think a little snot is gonna scare me away? Have you seen my morning hair?”

Later, when you’re half-asleep in his arms, he gently hums a random tune, something soft and off-key, but full of heart. His hand rubs slow circles on your back while he mumbles, “I hate seeing you like this… but I love being the one you call.”

And before you slip fully into sleep, he quietly adds, “I’ll take care of you every time. Don’t even think twice.”

Word count : 3526 | serapharua, 2025.

[reine-uls]

Drawing request of Douma telling LF how many children he wants

They’re terrified and Douma got horny… 🫤

[eveysnotebook]

More Emma pretty please with a cherry on top? You write her well :) 🙏🙏

aww thank you!! that is so sweet 🧡

I wasn’t sure if you wanted headcanons or a little story, I write headcanons better so i’m going to do that! please send another request if you have a little blurb idea in mind（＾_＾）

Dating Emma Frost headcanons (wlw)

• she’s very talented at makeup. if you let her, she’ll do your eyeshadow, lipstick/gloss, foundation and whatever else you want!

• she likes to hold your hand in the back of limos/planes/jets.

• usually has a horrible rbf or just plain annoyed face. its funny to see her relaxing while looking so fed up!

• she plans everything. she wakes up early and immediately gets out her phone/notebook to start planning your day out.

• expect your birthday to be an absolute dream come true, Emma knows you, she knows what you like so she’ll make the most stunning, most fun birthday party you’ve ever had. expect lots of amazing gifts too

• on another gift giving note, she is an incredible gift giver. Emma doesn’t even have to read your mind to figure out what to buy you.

• once you and Emma have been dating for a bit / she knows she loves and trusts you, she’ll give you a credit card to use and buy whatever you’d wish with it. she’s kind of a sugar mommy in a way?

• Emma has a huge, big, comfortable bed. it’s beautiful with a bed frame decorated in gems. It feels like heaven sleeping there.

• if she ever sees someone talking bad about you online? she would have the owner of the social media ban their account. No one talks bad about the love of her life!!

• speaking love of life’s, she definitely wants to get married to you at some point. Maybe 3-5 years into your relationship. She knows she loves you and would love to marry you one day. it’s a dream of hers!

• her phone lock screen is just a simple white with diamond and lace pattern, but her home screen is a selfie she took with you while on vacation in italy. it’s one of her favorite photos.

• whenever you two make public appearances together, she’s always at your side (well, your always at hers.)

• she also makes sure that the paparazzis don’t overwhelm you. she will get rude and bitchy if she needs too!!

• not afraid of speaking her mind. wearing an outfit she doesn’t like? “Darling why don’t you let me choose an outfit for you?” thinks your nails need to be painted better? “My beautiful , I have a wonderful nail artist. let me call her for you!”

• she kinda tries to find the fact that she doesn’t like something, she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, just improve it.

• Emma has a large and grand bathroom. she has sooo many products it’s crazy. a bunch of different perfumes, a closet full of makeup, a shower filled to the brim full of lovely soaps and shower products!!

• if you two are a similar size she will share clothing with you. whether it be a dress or pajamas pants. Emma knows her closet is massive and is willing to share it! only with you, of course.

• Emma has gorgeous blue, dazzling eyes. they’re kinda like puppy eyes but she uses them in much more seductive and elegant ways.

• her nails are always painted beautifully, she sometimes will let you choose charms/color schemes if you’d like!

• sometimes if she’s bored at a social event and your with her, she’ll talk to you via telepathy. you’ll have long yet fun and meaningful conversations all in your heads!

• secretly has a huge sweet tooth. she loves dark chocolate and vanilla cakes.

I hope you liked these! I know I do,

Emma is one of my favorite characters to write for 🧡 all requests about her are highly appreciated!!

[snowflake-bah]

hello again !! its the previous anon. we meant either a fox or a void thing, whichever one is easier for you to work on!

𝜗𝜚 PACK # 028 – arctic fox fictive ( minecraft )

^_^

name : arctic , fox , foxy , ice , snow , aspen , crystal , yumi , yuki , snowflake ,

pronouns : they / them , it / its , th?y / th?m , hy / hym , shy / hyr , ze / zir , ae / aer , snow / snows , snow / flake , fox / foxes , claw / claws , white / whites , fur / furs , fang / fangs , paw / paws , cloud / clouds , moon / moons , 🤍 / 🤍s , ☁️ / ☁️s , 🐾 / 🐾s , 🌙 / 🌙s , 🦊 / 🦊s

age : ageless minor / 16

species : arctic fox

gender : non - binary , arctic foxgender , winterfoxic , cloudic , yukinic

orientation : unlabeled , asexual

role : mood booster , special interest holder , flail , delight , assistant , drowser

source : arctic fox - minecraft

personality : silly , sweet , friendly , shy , quiet

likes : snow , pillows , cereal , plushies , drawing , plants , texting with friends

dislikes : jumpscares , gory horror , feeling left out , overly sweet food , school / work

hobbies / interests : stargazing , reading fanfiction , making dens , drawing

front triggers : foxes , snowy weather

appearance :

emojis : 🤍🦊🐾🌙☁️

extra : follows a lot of therian creators on social media , uses :3 and ^_^ a lot

[icefish-bah]

Hello! After careful consideration, we will be hiring mods. Please contact us through DMs for discord, so we can discuss modding and qualifications.

- ❄️

[sn6wy]

I care, I care, I care

﹒ ׅ ׄ ୨୧﹒like ribbons in your hair.

[mooechi]

I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO THIS COLORING STYLE

modern au riri cuz i got this sudden burst of energy after the acting thingy I just got included in;)

THIS WAS SO FUN TO DRAW

USED ONE REFERENCE FOR THIS U CNQ EASILY FIND IT AT PINS

please refrain from stealing. thank you!

[citizenoftmrrwlnd]

stimboard for : a snow leopard with forests, snow, fur, and tails requested by ❄️🐾🪽 anon

x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[llocket]

✧ 　sir lancelot graphics ⠀𓂃

f2u, only with credit! no need to reblog but very appreciated! ㅤ↳ㅤreq for @knuxys!! ++ good in dark & light mode

I honestly really like these!! Like... a lot... I don't know anything about Sonic but some kind of Sonic God must have possessed me or something

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 BOYNEXTDOOR REACTION TO YOU BIASING ANOTHER MEMBER . . . !

bnd ot6 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : they're so dramatic — REQUESTED : by ❄️🌟 anon — BND MASTERLIST!

note : none of the guys are actually upset btw <3

SUNGHO :

You were just scrolling through your gallery, minding your own business, when Sungho caught a glimpse of your phone screen. You didn’t even notice at first, until he stopped mid-chew, one eyebrow slowly raising as he turned to you with the flattest expression imaginable.

“Wait. Go back,” he said, pointing at your phone with a half-eaten chip.

You blinked. “What?”

“That photo. The lockscreen. Was that Taesan?”

You froze. Then shrugged. “Yeah.. I mean, just a cute fansite pic. I forgot it was even there.”

Sungho blinked once. Twice.

“Oh. Okay.”

He leaned back on the couch, crossed his arms, and stared at the ceiling like he was reevaluating his entire existence.

You nudged him. “What? You’re acting weird.”

“Nothing,” he replied. “It’s just funny. Hilarious, even. The betrayal.” He looked at you again, all wide eyes and mock hurt. “Out of all people Taesan?”

“He’s cool!”

“I’m cooler,” Sungho shot back instantly. “I actually text you back.”

You laughed. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being real. I hope your little Taesan lockscreen pays attention to you when you’re sad and need a late-night ramen run.”

You grinned. “Are you jealous?”

He scoffed. “I don’t get jealous. I get revenge.”

Before you could react, he leaned over and yoinked your phone straight out of your hands. A few dramatic swipes and taps later, he turned the screen toward you.

Your new lockscreen? A close-up selfie of Sungho, smirking, peace sign up, filtered with the most obnoxious sparkle effect he could find.

“There. Fixed. You’re welcome,” he said, tossing your phone back with a smug little shrug. “No more betrayals on my watch.”

And just like that, the crisis was over, except for the fake sighs, the exaggerated side eyes, and his ongoing bit titled “The Tragedy of Being Second to Taesan,” which he performed at least twice a day until he got extra snacks.

RIWOO :

It slipped out without much thought, just a passing comment while the two of you were scrolling through YouTube.

“Oh, that’s one of my favorite fancams,” you said. “Jaehyun just looks so cool there.”

Riwoo paused the video.

“..He’s your bias?” he asked, in the softest voice imaginable.

You looked over. “What?”

He turned to face you, blinking slowly like a cat who just got his nap interrupted. “You bias Jaehyun?”

His tone was calm, but his expression was pure betrayal, like you’d just told him you preferred sparkling water over still. You blinked, caught off guard.

“I mean, yeah? He was my first bias. Before I met you, obviously.”

“Oh.”

A short pause. Then Riwoo nodded slowly, turned back to the screen, and hit play again.

That should’ve been the end of it. But no, minutes later, he started humming one of his parts under his breath. Loudly. Then replayed a video of himself doing a dance challenge. Twice.

You caught him subtly glancing at you each time, like, “Are you impressed yet? Reconsidering, maybe?”

Eventually, you nudged him with a laugh. “Are you trying to become my bias?”

He blinked innocently. “What? No. I’m just watching good content. That happens to have me in it. A lot.”

You grinned. “You’re jealous.”

He blushed instantly, ears turning pink as he looked away. “I’m not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You can still keep Jaehyun as your bias, I guess,” he mumbled. “As long as you know I’m the one who gets to be your boyfriend.”

JAEHYUN :

You were curled up next to him, scrolling through your camera roll, when a photo caught his eye.

“Wait.. hold up.”

He leaned in, squinting. “Is that Leehan?”

You hesitated. “..Yeah?”

Jaehyun blinked. “You have a whole album named ‘My Lion King?’”

You tried to move your phone away, but he was already laughing, head tossed back, hand over his chest like you’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

“Oh wow. No, it’s fine. I’m not even upset,” he said, clearly a little upset. “Just here being your boyfriend.. while you collect majestic Leehan photos like Pokémon cards.”

You rolled your eyes, already grinning. “It’s not that serious. He was my bias before I met you.”

“Ah, the classic excuse,” Jaehyun replied with a mock gasp. “I’ve been betrayed. By my own partner. by my own group.”

He flopped dramatically onto the couch, draping himself across the cushions like a prince in exile. “I’ll be fine. I always knew you were into the mysterious type. Tall. Strong. Quiet.”

“Jaehyun—”

“Meanwhile, I’m just here,” he continued, sitting up suddenly. “Giving you forehead kisses, making you laugh, letting you steal my hoodies.. and for what? To be second place?”

You burst out laughing, and he grinned.

Then, just to make a point, he grabbed your phone, opened the camera, and held it up between you two. Snap.

“New album,” he said. “Title: ‘My Loyal Era.’ And it’s going to be better than any Leehan picture.”

TAESAN :

It came up when you were showing him your old phone background, just a harmless little scroll down memory lane. But the moment the image flashed on screen, Taesan paused.

“Wait.” He tilted his head slightly. “Was that Riwoo?”

You froze. “…Yeah. It’s just an old lockscreen. From, like, debut days.”

“Hmm.” He nodded once, as if that told him everything he needed to know.

Then silence. Painful, heavy silence.

You glanced over at him. “You okay?”

“Totally,” he replied coolly, but his tone was just a little too smooth, too even. “You just.. used to stare at Riwoo’s face every time you opened your phone. That’s cute.”

You sighed, laughing. “Don’t be like that. It’s not that deep.”

He turned his head to look at you, expression calm, but his eyes were saying a thousand things. Judging. Calculating. Filing this away for later.

“I’m just thinking,” he said lightly. “Riwoo has a soft image. Quiet. Gentle.” He gave you a look. “Interesting choice for a bias.”

“Taesan—”

“No, no, it’s cool,” he said, already reaching for his headphones. “We all have preferences. Mine just happen to include loyalty. But whatever.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

Then he smirked, barely, and put on a song that just so happened to start with one of his solo lines.

Later, when he sent you a message with a new photo of himself with the caption “lockscreen material,” you knew he wasn’t over it yet.

LEEHAN :

It happened when you were watching old fancams together, just casually pulling up a few performances. You clicked on a thumbnail without thinking, and Leehan tilted his head.

“Wait you bookmarked Woonhak’s solo stage?”

You paused. “Yeah.. I mean, it’s a good one.”

“Huh.” That was all he said. Huh.

He didn’t frown. Didn’t raise his voice. He just leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed lightly, face still pleasant, but his whole energy shifted by like two degrees.

You tried to explain. “I’ve followed the group since before we even met. Woonhak was my bias back then. It’s not a big deal.”

He nodded, gaze flicking toward the screen. “I didn’t realize I was living with a Woonhak enthusiast.”

You blinked. “Leehan.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, too quickly. “You have the right to appreciate other people’s talents. That’s what art is. Appreciation.”

But his tone was a little too polite. A little too neutral.

Later, while you were brushing your teeth, he walked past you holding a hoodie and casually said, “I was going to let you wear this, but maybe you’d prefer something from Woonhak’s wardrobe instead.”

Petty. Calmly, eloquently petty.

He still held your hand that night. Still kissed your forehead. But he also made you watch his fancam next, without commentary, just so you could “re-experience the stage presence you’re clearly missing.”

And when you changed your wallpaper to a blurry photo of him sleeping with your stuffed lion tucked under his arm? He didn’t say anything.

But he smiled a little harder the next morning.

WOONHAK :

You were just scrolling through TikTok together, giggling at dance covers and random edits, when a video of Sungho popped up on your For You Page.

You smiled a little too hard.

Woonhak noticed immediately.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Huh?” you blinked, trying to scroll past.

“No, no, go back. Go back.” He reached over and practically snatched your phone. When he saw the account name, complete with a sparkly edit of Sungho mid-performance, he gasped. Loudly. Dramatically.

“YOU'RE A SUNGHO BIAS?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but it was too late. He stood up, pointing at you with the betrayal of a thousand K-dramas in his eyes.

“I let you steal my hoodie. I shared my snacks. I danced WITH YOU and you.. you chose Sungho?”

He flopped onto the couch like he’d just been shot. “I’ve been living a lie.”

You laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. “Woonhak, seriously, it’s not like that.”

But he wasn’t listening. He was already muttering to himself.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just the funny one. The cute one. The youngest. That’s all I’ll ever be to you.”

He buried his face in a pillow, then peeked out a second later. “..Unless I get pretty and learn how to stare blankly into cameras.”

“Woonhak.”

“I can be mysterious too,” he added, then made direct eye contact and immediately burst out laughing.

Eventually, when you pulled him into a hug and promised he was your actual favorite, he softened, but not without saying: “You owe me three cuddles and at least one bag of chips. Maybe two.”

Word count : 1615 | serapharua, 2025.

[icyporcelain]

　　extremely random dividers　﹕　all but last 4 made by me　

　　　　⭑　　always f2u w/o credits　　　requested

[reine-uls]

I would love to see little fox in a wedding kimono just to see Douma's reaction.

IM SO SO SORRY FOR DOING THIS JUST NOW 😭😭😭 FORGIVE ME

[eveysnotebook]

Guess who!!! I feel in celebration for my new emoji I need to share a scenario for you to write (I’m so kind, ik 😋) so may I please have “we’re not even dating!” “But you belong to me” with Emma? Or just like generally jealous Emma? Whichever you prefer :D

- ❄️ anon

great!! so happy to have you back! 🧡

Emma Frost jealousy headcanons / scenario(s)

• I don’t think Emma gets jealous too often, people know that you’re dating. they know they’ll have hellfire to pay if they do anything to you.

• but if someone starts flirting or acting too friendly, she’ll notice.

• she keeps sneaking glances over at you every couple of minutes, making sure nothing is happening.

• she might pop into your mind, “Is this person bothering you, my dear?”

• if you say yes, she’ll immediately saunter over, taking you by the arm.

• “I think someone forgot about something!” She smiles, taking you and walking away.

• later, the person suddenly forgot what they’re address is.

• and if this ever happens again, she’ll make it as clear as possible that you are hers only!

Emma was holding a lavish party, only the finest mutants in sight. She made sure everything was running well and not a hair was out of place.

including your outfits, you both wear matching colors of pristine white and a nice, deep sea blue. people would have to be blind not to notice your beautiful and matching attire.

well- someone didn’t notice.

as you stand near the back, away from the crowd and letting Emma do her thing, you notice a person walking over, you’ve seen them a couple times before at past parties and galas.

they begin to chat you up, saying you look beautiful in your matching outfit, complimenting the hair style Emma did for you earlier. your flattered by their kind remarks, but you can’t help but feel unsettled by them.

Emma feels it, she knows it. she feels your unease in her head. she smiles, placing down her drink and excusing herself from the crowd for a moment.

“darling- would you like me to step in?” Emma’s voice echos in your head.

once you’ve let her know that you’d like to get out of the situation, she makes her way over to you. just as the person is about to reach for you- as if they were going to pat you on the shoulder, Emma makes her appearance.

”Well, never touch a lady without her consent.” She says in that iconic voice, taking you gently by the arm. “You should be leaving now.” the person immediately backs down, walking away.

“this is why you stay with me, dear.” Emma says, even though she sounds annoyed, you know she loves you and would never let anything bad happen, not on her watch.

I hope you liked it!! this was really fun to write 😋

[snowflake-bah]

*Peeks in* 👋

May we request a lever 4 alter pack for Himiko Toga from MHA please? :3

𝜗𝜚 PACK # 031 – himiko toga ( mha ) fictive

+ level 4

name : toga , himiko , himi , blood , chi , darling , cherry , rose , ruby , scarlett

pronouns : she / her , he / him , they / them , it / its , shx / hxr , hy / hym , xe / xem , ze / zir , vy / ver , ♡ / ♡s , <3 / <3s , >_< / >_<s , blood / bloods , gore / gores , scar / scars , scar / scarlet , knife / knifes , vamp / vamps , bite / bites , fang / fangs , cute / cutes , ador / adorable , kawaii / kawaiis , yandere / yanderes , mew / mews , nya / nyans , kit / kits , 🌸 / 🌸s , 🔪 / 🔪s , 🩸 / 🩸s , 🥀 / 🥀s

age : 17

species : human

gender : trans trans fem , demigirl , togacharic , bloodgender , lovegoric , bloressific , gorebeing , lovebodiment , loveadored , lovesickfem , darlingvamp

orientation : pansexual lesbian , hyperromantic , ambiamorous

cisIDs : cis autistic , cis hypersexual , cis OLD , cis BPD , cis yandere , cis yumeshipper

transIDs : tris japanese , trans trans fem , trans ASPD , trans trans plural , trans delusional , demo cannibal , trans cat , trans fangs , trans darling , trans loved , tris attention seeker , perma adored

paraphilias : 🧸 , 🐾 , ξ , 📖 , 🧟 , 🦴 , ⚱️ , 🌷 , ❣️ , 🦖 , 🥀 , 🌼 , 💤 , 🛍 , 🧵 , 🗿 , 🫀 , 🌑 , 🩹 , 🔪 , ⛓️ , 🔗 , ❤️ , 🫶 , 🐰🎀 , 🍓🌙 , 💭🔪 , 👏🪄 , 🌈💜

role : romanticist , bpd holder , mood booster , memory holder , intrusive thoughts holder

source : himiko toga - my hero academia

personality : obsessive , clingy , creepy at times , silly , cute

likes : cats , love letters , sakura trees , yandere characters , gory anime , cutegore rooms , yanblr , japanese food , j - fashion , kaomojis , having someone to obsess over

dislikes : antis , normies , being yelled at , hate , vegetables , huge shopping centres , being stared at , having to clean up / tidy something , mud

hobbies / interests : playing video games , watching anime , j - fashion , j - pop , true crime

front triggers : ochako kins / introjects / etc . , anything yandere related , flowers , " the red means i love you " – madds buckley , " yandere " – jazmin bean , " saccharine " – jazmin bean , anon hate asks

kintypes : sparrow therian , bat therian , vampire otherkin , blood conceptkin , love conceptkin , ayano aishi fictionkin

aesthetic : lovecore , gorecore , pastel gore , yanderecore , cutegore

music taste : stephanie mabey , madds buckley , jazmin bean , melanie martinez

typing quirk : o - ♡ , s - z , lots of kaomojis

appearance :

emojis : 💛🔪🩸🥀🩹🎭

extra : x

[truthful-deceitful-bah]

hello!!! may i get a pack of truth of any crk fictive, dealer's choice, to be a low mobility fronter? all i know is they're a cane user and use he/she. ty!!

- @dinonuggets-bah

Of course! Hope you enjoy!!

Went with a personal favorite that we haven't seen many packs for ^^

Pack under the cut~

Name(s) - Eclair Cookie, Sage, Marion, Chantilly

Gender - bigender

Pronouns - he/him she/her

Species - cookie

Age range - mid 20s to early 30s, though it's unlikely he'd tell anyone her true age

Orientation - unlabeled publicly, ambiamorous, asexual, grey/demiromantic

Role(s) - low mobility fronter! He is unashamed to use a cane and help out when the collective is having trouble with a flare up, and she would be so willing to bop people who give the collective any trouble about it

Source - cookie run: kingdom

Faceclaim(s) -

Source 1 found on Instagram, artist is kryjovnikart

Source 2 found on the crk wiki, source 3 found on google, said to be on reddit but could not find the post (so if you are the artist or know the artist, let us know!)