#:: headcanon ::

[p1girlfriend]

not-so-shy-boyfriend!oscar piastri who... 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡

everyone thinks is quiet, reserved, soft-spoken... but with you? oh, with you—he's bold, smug, and just a little bit filthy. because he’s not shy when it comes to loving you. touching you. teasing you. ruining you.

…lets you sit in his lap during sim races like it’s nothing, hands casually gripping your thighs. …grabs your ass in public with a straight face, then dares you to call him out on it. …moans against your ear when you whisper things you shouldn’t in the middle of a dinner party. …pulls you into dark hallways just to kiss you until your lipstick is ruined. …mutters “gonna fuck you when we get home” right in front of the boys—low enough that only you hear, but loud enough to make you clench your thighs. …holds your throat gently when he kisses you, just enough pressure to make your breath catch. …rides the edge of cocky and worshipful in bed—“look at you, baby... all mine”. …loves when you wear his race merch with nothing underneath and gets hard just watching you walk around the flat. …fucks you on the couch the night before a flight, telling you “I need to take the taste of you with me.” …groans when you touch his chest, when your nails scratch his abs, when you tell him he’s yours. …whispers filth into your neck while slowly rolling his hips into you like he’s got all night (and he does). …loves giving head—will spend forever there. holding your hips down. letting you tug his hair. grinning when you whimper his name. …cums from just the sound of you. just your hands tugging his curls. just your voice saying please, Oscar. …grabs your wrist and kisses your palm after, soft and tender, like he didn’t just wreck you two minutes ago. …calls you baby with that boyish smile, but mama when he’s desperate. …sleeps curled into you, always. chest to your back, his arm heavy on your waist.

©p1girlfriend

[plethorawrites]

(A/N— because the secret relationship trope is one of my all time favorites—)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Dick and Tim weren't expecting much when they visited—broke into— Jason's apartment. Honestly, despite never being there (because frankly they thought he'd open fire for their trespassing) they had very low expectations for his living style.

After all, Jason was used to the bare minimum. Pretty much all of his past safe houses were almost empty, sans a place to sleep, research, and hide things.

When they got there, picking the window lock on the 5th floor of a nearly empty apartment building in a much shadier area of town, they were expecting the same thing they had always seen—take out containers, traps, a messy bed laying on the floor without a frame. Probably some rat traps and maybe a few threatening signs, telling them to get out.

Instead, they found a fully furnished apartment that smelled of... cinnamon? Vanilla? What was that smell? They weren't sure, but it was sweet.

The couch had matching cushions, the tv was on a stand instead of sitting on the ground, the kitchen actually had a basket of fruit on the counter instead of a trashcan filled with old Chinese food.

"This is ...weird," Tim muttered, swiping his hand over the countertop, expecting dust but finding it clean and smelling of lemon cleaning product. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Dick nodded. "According to the most recent address we have," he replied, glancing around at the art on the wall and the blankets strewn over the couch. "I sure as hell hope it is. Otherwise we just broke into someone's apartment."

That would definitely be bad. Especially if Bruce found out.

Thankfully it was only a few seconds later that Jason walked out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. Which, to their relief proved that they had the correct address.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his hair still messy from sleep, his voice still gravely as he asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Uh...we needed your help," Tim answered, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Did you just wake up?"

It certainly looked like it. After all, he was still in his sweatpants, no shirt in sight. It was after eleven am, though. They had assumed he would be up by now.

Jason heaved a sigh, crossing their path to start a pot of coffee. "And it couldn't have been a text message? Or a phone call?"

"Not really," Dick replied, watching his brother look through a drawer of coffee pods.

Since when did Jason drink anything other than straight black instant coffee that was probably three days old and freezing cold?

Tim, despite the mild befuddled expression, went on to elaborate about their visit. "Look we know you have the day off, but there's new information on the case with Penguin and Bruce said—"

"Jay?"

Tim stopped as he was interrupted, his eyebrows cinching as he turned his head to the voice of the sound.

You.

Your eyes were as wide, if not wider than theirs when you walked in, wearing far less than acceptable clothing in the form of a bra and shorts that were a smidge too tight.

"Who the hell..." Dick was already muttering, like a deer in headlights.

It took Jason all of two seconds to grab his favorite jacket, putting it over your shoulders to keep them from seeing any more of your skin than he found acceptable.

Even as you pulled it tightly to cover your attire, the jacket, which swallowed most of you, still hit your thighs. Their eyes cast down at your bare legs as you tugged his jacket lower awkwardly.

"Hey!" Jason snapped both figuratively and literally, his voice loud and his fingers waving in their faces. "Eyes up here."

"huh? Wh- sorry," Dick murmured, still confused as he motioned to you. "We weren't expecting uh... anyone else to be here..."

"Yeah, that makes four of us, I'm sure," you mumbled quietly, glancing over your shoulder at Jason who towered over you. "I'm just gonna...go get dressed."

He nodded, his hands still on your shoulders as he stood behind you. "Good idea."

Slowly backing away as his hands left your shoulders you waved weakly. "It was...nice meeting you," you remarked with an awkward nose scrunch, pointing over your shoulder. "I'll uh... I'll be in the bedroom."

As you left, the door shutting quickly and loudly, Dick and Tim could both see the look in their brother's eyes which simultaneously told them not to ask and to never ever say a word about you walking out in your pajamas like that.

"I guess we know where the throw pillows came from," Tim noted.

[heartsiebyul]

Twisted Wonderland characters when their lover lovingly brushes, braids, or runs their fingers through their hair.

(Featuring: Cater, Leona, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

Cater Diamond

“Babe, are you sure this isn’t gonna pull?” Cater asked, resting his head in your lap with a playful smirk on his lips.

You combed your fingers through his light orange strands, careful not to catch on a tangle. “Positive. I’m being gentle.”

Cater sighed dramatically, closing his eyes. “Mmm, okay. I trust you~”

The room filled with the sound of the brush gliding through his hair. Occasionally, he peeked up, taking selfies to capture the moment—captioned with hearts and “#loversgoals.”

When you started to braid a section behind his ear, he stilled, a rare moment of silence. His fingers brushed your wrist.

“…You’re way too good at this. Can we do this every night?”

Leona Kingsholar

He grumbled when you sat behind him, but didn’t move away. “Tch. If you tug too hard, I’ll bite.”

You chuckled, gently running your fingers through his thick hair. “You say that every time.”

His ears twitched as you found a rhythm—slow strokes, careful detangling, scratching lightly at his scalp. A deep, contented rumble reverberated from his chest.

Eventually, he slumped forward, tail flicking lazily. You started a loose braid near the nape of his neck.

“…You’re not gonna show anyone this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

He didn't say anything when you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Jamil Viper

He sat in front of you, back straight, posture disciplined—even while letting you comb through his long, silky hair.

“You don’t have to, you know,” he murmured, not meeting your gaze in the mirror.

“I want to,” you said softly, brushing from scalp to ends with utmost care.

His eyes fluttered closed. You could see his shoulders ease, tension melting away with every pass of the brush.

You started weaving a simple braid. Jamil watched you in the mirror, his gaze softening.

“...No one's ever done this for me before.”

You kissed his temple. “Get used to it.”

Vil Schoenheit

“This is sacred ground, you know,” Vil teased as he handed you his finest boar-bristle brush.

“And yet here you are, letting me into the holy land,” you quipped.

He sat with regal poise, but the trust was unmistakable. You worked slowly, brushing his light-blonde locks until they gleamed.

The ends curled slightly when you gathered them to braid. Vil hummed in approval, glancing at your reflection behind him.

“Delicate but firm... You’ve been practicing.”

You chuckled. “I’ve had a beautiful muse.”

He smiled—genuine, proud. “Flatterer. But I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Idia Shroud

You found him sprawled on the bed, tangled blue hair a chaotic mess from gaming and sleepless nights.

“Idia, when’s the last time you brushed this?” you asked, gently lifting a knot.

“Uh… what year is it?” he mumbled into the pillow.

You laughed, sitting beside him and starting with your fingers before switching to a brush.

He tensed at first, but slowly melted into the mattress with each soft pull. The tips of his ears flushed pink.

“…This is like, major intimacy points. You sure you’re ready for this level?”

“I’ll take the risk,” you said, smoothing out another section.

“…I think I love you more now.”

Malleus Draconia

He sat quietly, cross-legged before you, the room bathed in moonlight. His dark hair shimmered in the silver glow, cascading down his back like silk.

“Are you certain?” he asked, glancing back at you. “Touching my hair is… not a small thing among fae.”

You met his gaze, voice soft. “Only if you want me to.”

After a moment, Malleus nodded. “Then I offer it to you.”

You started slowly, brushing out the long strands, careful around his horns. He didn’t speak, but his breathing deepened, shoulders softening with each stroke.

Eventually, you gathered part of his hair and wove it into a loose braid, tying it with a ribbon.

“…This is the most peace I’ve felt in centuries,” he murmured. “Your hands… they carry warmth my heart longs for.”

You kissed his shoulder. “Then let me give it to you. As often as you’ll let me.”

He closed his eyes. “Then I shall never refuse.”

[p1girlfriend]

𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS... 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ OP81

– You meet in uni and instantly rub each other the wrong way. Not because he’s rude — he’s not — but because he’s smug. Always one point ahead. Always smirking when he sees your name on the grade sheet just below his.

– You sit across from each other in class. He always notices when your pen runs out and passes you a new one without looking. You always return it with something petty written on a sticky note wrapped around it, like: “Hope this helps you overthink less.”

– You correct each other’s grammar in Google Docs. Like… passive-aggressively. But you also never delete the other's edits. Hm. Weird.

– He lives to fluster you in class debates. One time, you got so worked up arguing about some obscure political theory that he leaned in and whispered, “You look real pretty when you’re mad, y’know.” You forgot your entire rebuttal.

– Everyone thinks you're hooking up already. You're not. But when someone says it out loud at a study group, Oscar just raises an eyebrow and says, “Yet.”

– When you finally study together (after too much tension), you both spend the first hour in sarcastic silence. But then you start helping each other. And somehow… that night, he walks you home. And you both just… smile.

– “Still think you’re smarter than me?” “No. But I think you’re more fun to argue with.”

– The first time it happens? It’s after a stupid late-night library session. He’s wearing a hoodie, sitting next to you, both of you pretending you're reading — until he says something snarky and you snap.

– “God, you’re such a cocky little—” “Finish that sentence,” he mutters, “and I swear I’ll make you say it again with my fingers inside you.”

– He loves watching your mind go blank under his touch. It’s revenge for all those times you humiliated him in class. “What happened to the girl with the smart mouth, huh?” he whispers, hand between your thighs. “Gone now?”

– You’ve definitely had sex in at least one academic setting: a study room, an empty classroom, maybe even his car right after an exam. That need to out-do each other turned into a craving to be closer. To win in a different way.

– “You gonna take notes on this too, pretty girl?” he teases, hips moving slow and deep. “Or should I make it a practical lesson?”

– After? He’s weirdly soft. Holding your waist, pressing kisses to your shoulders, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t think this means I’m letting you win next time.”

– “Oh yeah?” you whisper. “I’m top of the class and on top of you.”

He groans. You smirk.

Rivals forever. But lovers now too.

©p1girlfriend

[daithedune]

Bob Reynolds headcannons: Nsfw (mdni)

CW: smut, overstimulation, msub, fem!reader, p in v, a bit of fluff, praise kink, established relationship (romantic, can be married or not but it's romantic.), made with a thick/fleshy reader in mind but I think it works in any way.

⋆˚࿔ — he's very shy, in every aspect he is really shy. He can be nervous when it comes to talk about it, but when he's in the mood? Fuck, he'll get into it. He may be shy, but he's not innocent. That he acts like a lamb doesn't mean he is one.

⋆˚࿔ — before fucking or doing anything too deep, he won't have the courage to say it, much less do it without asking. But he'll start slow, he will lay with you in bed or cuddle you up on the couch, maybe a hug from behind, but it'll be slow and gentle.

⋆˚࿔ — after playing a bit like that, his hands will start sliding down to your ass and grabbing it or he will bury his head on your tits, maybe if he feels greedy he will grind his crotch against your leg or ass.

⋆˚࿔ — "please?" He will whisper softly, making sure you know what he wants. Of course you do he's obvious, and, fuck, it's hard to say no to those big pleading eyes that scream for warm touch.

⋆˚࿔ — the way he gets naked it's not shy, tho. He's savage, he will go on top of you and unbelt everything like a fucking expert, he will touch everywhere, grabbing every single soft place he sees.

⋆˚࿔ — he loves soft bodies. He loves them. They're perfect to hug, to kiss, to grab and hold on. Specially hold on, he gets like a dog in heat when he wants to fuck.

⋆˚࿔ — "please- please..." He will beg you, even if you aren't doing anything and just letting him fuck you. he's always submissive and needy.

⋆˚࿔ — he's smashing his hips against yours, frantically moving, no rhythm, just at a fast pace and giving you sloppy kisses as his cock goes in and out of you. He didn't even bothered to get protection and he's just stuttering little "sorry"s in between kisses, his hands groping the extra flesh on your hips like his life depended on it.

⋆˚࿔ — "fuck- fuck- thank you- hmhm- yes- fuck-" he moans beautifully. He had a perfect tone, the cutest little whines you could ever listen to.

⋆˚࿔ — the fucking praise kink this man has is out of this world. He starts drooling and giggling almost mesmerized when you call him a good boy or when you just tell him he looks pretty. In the everyday he will always draw a smile when you tell him any little compliment, and when you're in the bedroom he will go faster and bury his head on the crook of your neck.

⋆˚࿔ — his dick is long, not too thick but he has some good length and fuck, he does know how to use it. Sometimes you jerk him with both your hands and he just melts in your touch. Besides, he loves overstimulation.

⋆˚࿔ — "fuck- fuck s' good please- mgh- t' much-" he whines as the palm of your hand circles his tip, his lower stomach Flooded with pre-cum and semen.

⋆˚࿔ — when he cums he's a mess. An absolute mess. He moans loudly, almost screaming your name, sometimes he will stay inside, letting his cum root inside of you and then whispering sweet apologies in your ear, of course he had asked you to do it before, but he finds it so hot to think he's naughty and even like that you treat him like a good boy.

⋆˚࿔ — he has a huge load, he doesn't have the highest sex drive but when he's needy he can fuck you full, shyly nuzzling his head on the back of your neck or your tits, his body shaking as he drools all over you, sweetly touching all of your soft spots.

Bonus:

⋆˚࿔ — he likes to call you "mistress" or "ma'am."

[anticidic]

obsessed with the idea that Dazai began rolling around on the floor or spinning his chair to help him process his thoughts and come up with plans after Chuuya had tied him up and spun him in Stormbringer

[raven-6-10]

The poison one is Viago when he's feeling relaxed.

Stella carries a silk garrotte in her pocket and plays with it sometimes when she's trying to think. Here she is, planning the next move, meanwhile the garrote is slowly turning into some finger-woven monstrosity.

Neurodivergent assassin who very casually uses their weapons as stim.

Turning on and off the safety of their gun. Tapping and spinning their dagger. Watching the poison in the vial move as they flip in and then back.

Nobody says anything because...well they're an assassin.

Turns on safety, presses trigger, turns off safety repeat.

People around them are in constant fear.

Chewing the end of their poison tipped dagger when they try to figure out a plan.

Wash their hands too much cause they don't like how sticky blood is.

However overtime it becomes a weird single to others.

Everyone is anxious trying to figure something out and they hear a little "click click" and it's just slightly calming to know that they have this person there and they are thinking of a plan.

Someone hands them a drink but it flows just a little too weird and they are like, "hmm that's poison" then chuck it because they have built up immunity.

No table that doesn't have something carved into it.

Never a situation where they don't have enough bullets because this person takes out the cartridge and puts it back as stim.

They take apart their guns and put them back over time being crazy fast and efficient with it.

Just give me a neurodivergent assassin/spy.

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier is immune to siren songs—not because he’s enchanted or anything mystical like that.

It’s simply because he’s too good a musician. He can immediately tell when the sirens are off-pitch, and frankly, it's impossible to be seduced by a song that butchers the melody.

Honestly, who falls under a spell when the harmony's a mess?

[justaz]

love the fact that percy and annabeth both think that the title of gf/bf doesn’t truly encapsulate their relationship. love that annabeth calls percy “her friend” to damasen in tartarus because she thought the title “boyfriend” didn’t cover all that percy was to her and that “friend” was more accurate. they are dating but they are best friends above everything else and god isn’t that just so beautiful

[nightplvmes]

MORNING (fluff)

Rafayel one shot ⋆｡° | pairing : rafayel x fem!reader (third person pov) ⋆｡° | word count : 1k ⋆｡° | fluff, lazy morning, clingy rafa likes and reblogs are appreciated!! ★ masterlist here

She was about to fall asleep, her eyes slightly closed, until she felt hands around her. A yawn escaped her lips and she turned to look over her shoulder. Rafayel was trying to make room for him on the bed.

She shifted and crawled to the center of the bed to make room for him. Seconds later, she felt his weight on the bed. His arms wrapped around her again, this time pulling her closer to him. It was cold, and his warmth was actually comforting. She yawned and shifted gently in his arms so she could turn until she was facing him.

"I thought you were going to work," she murmured in her sleepy voice. She didn't know how long ago Rafayel had started his morning routine, but she knew it had been long enough for her to fall into a deep sleep for at least a few minutes.

"I work at home," he replied, causing his girlfriend to roll her eyes. He knew what she meant: starting some paintings he had pending. He already knew what she meant, but he liked to tease her every time she asked the same question.

"You know what I mean."

Rafayel nodded, pressing his body against hers. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, smelling her scent. There was a peculiar scent she had every time she woke up, and it had become his favorite. He'd mentioned it to her once. "Yeah, I just… wanted to say good morning to you."

"It doesn't count as good morning if you wake me up." She gasped when Rafayel pulled her against him again. She knew there was something more to it. It didn't have to be something bad, exactly, but she knew it wasn't just Rafayel wanting to say good morning to her. "What's wrong?"

He sighed when he stopped hiding his face to look at her. "I wanted to spend some more time with you," he admitted. "Besides, you smell so good. I hate that you smell so good," he complained before burying his face in her neck again, inhaling her scent.

She smiled, trying to wriggle in his arms, but Rafayel was stronger than her, and there wasn't much she could do while she was still sleepy. "You're late. Thomas called me yesterday asking if you'd thrown away your phone because you weren't answering." It had become a habit to call her when Rafayel didn't answer, which was… often when he was with her.

"One day won't change anything." He stopped hiding his face again, this time to place a kiss on her cheek. "It's your fault for smelling so good," he complained… again.

She laughed again; his lips tickled her, but she didn't dare push him away. She turned her face to look at him, but Rafayel took the opportunity to press his lips against hers, a small, lazy kiss. Like those kisses you give when you know there's more to come.

"You can do many things in one day." She shook her head. He had that look on his face that told her he wasn't leaving her side anytime soon. "I promise to stop showering and rolling in mud next time," she joked, causing her boyfriend to snort and her to giggle.

"Do that, and I'll put you in the shower myself." He squeezed her hips, and she raised an eyebrow, sensing that his words actually had a double meaning. "I didn't mean that, but you could put it into practice right now."

"Stop it, you have work." She shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't really like the idea of taking a bath together, but she hated being the reason he wanted to stay in bed all day or preferred to spend his time with her and was now he had pending work.

Rafayel nodded, giving up. He wouldn't get anywhere fighting with his girlfriend, especially since he knew she was right; he couldn't keep putting off work. "Fine." He sighed in frustration and placed one last kiss on her cheek before getting out of bed.

She watched as he left the room after a few seconds. The room fell silent, and she felt guilty for practically kicking him out of bed when she really would have liked to be curled up next to him for the rest of the morning.

She let out a yawn and shifted back in bed to settle in and sleep for another couple of hours. She was still tired; she could feel it throughout her body, but when she settled under the sheets and closed her eyes, sleep never came. Minutes passed, and if she continued like this, she was sure it would be hours, but she couldn't go back to sleep. All she could think about was Rafayel and how much she missed his warmth.

She gave up and got out of bed, having to tiptoe as the cold from the floor penetrated her feet. It took her a couple of seconds to reach the big room where Rafayel usually worked. Despite the quietness, he felt her presence almost immediately.

"Wouldn't you go back to sleep?" Rafayel's question echoed throughout the room even though he was facing away from her, preparing the materials he would use for his next painting.

"It's your fault, you made me wake up," she replied, and now it was her arms that wrapped around him from behind. He smiled and one of his hands wrapped around hers to bring it to his lips, placing a soft kiss there.

Was she too needy? Was there something wrong with wanting to be close to her boyfriend on certain days? It wasn't that she couldn't be without him; she could survive perfectly without him; she just preferred not to.

He guided her to the chair in front of the blank canvas and made a space for her on his lap, as he had done so many times before. She rested her head on his shoulder, her gaze fixed on the canvas, waiting to see the beginning of his next work.

And spending the morning on her boyfriend's lap, receiving his kisses, seemed like the perfect way to start the day.

[heartsiebyul]

hey so how do you think Riddle, Lilia and Leona would deal with having a s/o who gives them enthusiastic goodbye or hello hugs in public? S/o is just so happy to see them, is living in the moment the moment they lock eyes with their boyfriend? And then they don’t continue the pda after a bit if the boys are shy about that stuff, But if the boys seem sad throughout any time in the day in public s/o will just lean their head on their shoulder or loosely hug their arm if s/o can’t lean cuz it’s awkward doing that standing up, as a sort of comfort thing while they help try and solve the problem or just listen to what’s bothering them?

Twisted Wonderland characters when their boyfriend excitedly hugs them in public and gently clings to them when they’re feeling down.

(Featuring: Riddle, Leona & Lilia)

Riddle Rosehearts

Enthusiastic Public Hello/Goodbye Hugs

At first, Riddle completely short-circuits. You’re running at him in the hallway like a scene out of a romance drama, eyes lighting up when you see him, arms thrown around his shoulders—and all he can think is: What are you doing? We’re in public!

His face turns bright red every single time. He’ll try to scold you for being improper, but his voice falters midway. Why? Because deep down… he loves it. He just doesn’t know how to handle it.

The PDA is overwhelming to him at first. He’s not against physical affection, but he was raised to value decorum, and your bold warmth completely bypasses his formal upbringing.

Eventually, he stops flinching and awkwardly pats your back or lets his hand settle against your waist while muttering something like, “Yes, yes, I missed you too…”

He starts secretly waiting for these greetings. His expression will brighten the moment he spots you from a distance—but he still plays it cool. Sort of.

Comfort Gestures in Public (When He’s Sad)

Riddle’s the type to internalize stress, especially with the pressure of being Housewarden. He doesn’t like being seen as vulnerable, but you notice the little things: a tight jaw, tense shoulders, clipped tone.

If you quietly lean your head on his shoulder or loop your arm through his while walking, he’ll stiffen at first… but doesn’t move away. He lets out a slow breath like he’s finally allowing himself to feel.

“I’m fine,” he might say at first—but if you stay close and gentle, he opens up. Your wordless presence makes him feel safe enough to say what’s bothering him, even if it’s just a small complaint about dorm responsibilities or an upcoming exam.

The act of being beside him without pressure gives him the courage to let go of his need to be perfect. You become his safe space in a world that demands control.

Leona Kingsholar

Enthusiastic Public Hello/Goodbye Hugs

The first time you do it—running at him with that wide, boyish grin and hugging him like you couldn’t wait another second—Leona is visibly stunned.

“The hell are you doing? You trying to tackle me or something? We’re in the middle of campus...” But his hands don’t push you away—they settle naturally on your hips or back.

Leona grumbles. A lot. But the lazy smirk he hides in your hair or the low chuckle when you hug him again the next day tells the truth: he adores it.

Public displays of affection aren’t really his thing… or so he says. But he gets used to your greetings. Starts timing his arrival to catch you. His tail might even flick contentedly when you come running.

If you ever don’t hug him, he gets grumpy—“What, you forget how to say hi properly?”

Comfort Gestures in Public (When He’s Sad)

Leona’s pride is a fortress. He hates showing weakness. But sometimes his mood dips—old wounds, pressure, or simply feeling overlooked.

You don’t say anything. You just stand beside him, leaning your head on his shoulder or gently slipping your arm through his.

He tenses slightly… then sighs, slow and deep. The contact helps him breathe easier. Even if it’s subtle, you’re reminding him that you see him—truly see him.

He might mutter something like, “Don’t go thinking this means I’m sulking,” but he doesn’t move away. If anything, he stays close longer than usual.

If you gently ask what’s wrong, he’ll eventually talk—quiet, blunt, maybe a bit self-deprecating. But he knows you’re not judging. You’re just there. And for someone like Leona, that’s everything.

Lilia Vanrouge

Enthusiastic Public Hello/Goodbye Hugs

Lilia thinks your excited greetings are the cutest thing ever. The first time you tackle-hug him in the hallway, he laughs, scooping you up and twirling you in return like you just reunited after a war.

“Oh, my sweet darling, were you counting the seconds we were apart?” he teases with sparkly eyes, loud enough for the whole hallway to hear.

PDA doesn’t bother him at all—in fact, he encourages it. He thrives on physical affection and isn’t shy about giving it back, especially if it makes you happy.

The only time he gets flustered is if you blush. Then he switches tactics, going quieter, leaning in close, whispering “I love how warm you are when you see me,” in that mischievous, velvety tone.

With a deeper bond, the affection becomes more tender. The greetings are still joyful, but they carry more emotion—he starts holding you for longer, breathing you in like you’re a precious memory.

Comfort Gestures in Public (When He’s Sad)

Lilia’s a master of hiding his feelings behind a smile. But he can’t fool you. You can tell when his eyes are just a little dimmer, when his usual energy falters.

You quietly lean your head against him or hold his arm—and for a moment, the cheerful mask slips. His posture relaxes, and he leans back into you as if to silently say thank you.

He rarely talks about what’s bothering him unless you gently coax it out. “It’s nothing serious… just echoes of the past,” he might say, eyes distant.

Your quiet support means more to him than words. For someone who carries centuries of memories, your touch reminds him he’s still here, still loved, still seen.

[c1araj3on]

six of crows headcanons

wylan knits for jesper <3

-> also tries to make kaz wear them...he pretends not to but secretly wears them in his room and thinks they're amazing

jesper makes cute lil stories (cute lil storie -> guns + gambling + mass destruction) and reads them to wylan as bedtime stories

inej is the 'mom' of the friend group, also the only one who has semi-control over kaz, which is why she was nominated to the position

kaz pokes his friends with his cane when annoyed

nina is a flirt, and happily throws overstimulating compliments and pickup lines to everyone 25/8

matthias is the only one who has a sense of order compared to the other crows which are just bundles of chaos, and helps inej try to keep them all in line (it never works...)

big family dinners of chaos where food fights usually occur and the loser cleans it all up

even though they all end up cleaning because inej and matthias force them to

nina and matthias bake together !!! waffles, obviously. they are in charge of desserts for the other four crows

inej and kaz are not 'dating' per se, but def closer than 'friends'

their relationship is the definition of consent and communication

[astatia-ghast]

I both hate this and love it at the same time. Ghosts as a single-celled organism is freaky, but it makes so much sense.

Kudos for the incredible idea!

(Also, my favorite detail is “Fenton apparatus.” :3)

Dannymay Day 29: Ghost Biology

singular ghost cell Danny

Do you know Physarum polycephalum ( or "blob")? It's a slime mold that consists of only a singular cell which can be chopped up an fuse together again, makes intelligent choices without nervous system and is neither a fungus nor a plant nor an animal. One of the most alien things we have on the planet.

Maybe ghost behave also like that, that would explain why they can do something like this:

, and fuse together again like nothing happens.

[willowmaidsworld]

i bring heartbreak to you, may you enjoy it (details and some transcribed text under the cut)

it all started with this

it is also like my graduation gift to you, this took so long because of my graduation and it is finally over (succesfully), so i can draw old men yaoi (also it took so long because my whole surroundings decided that the essay "room of one's own" by viginia woolf isn't a significant piece of literature)

I'm still polishing my designs for them, mainly for Watson. For some reason i can't figure out a way to draw him in more simplified style. (Although I like how i drew him on the couch). Just so you know, Mycroft knew everything (not sure if that's canon) and I headcanon Mary Morstan's and Watson's wedding as lavender, Mary as a lesbian.

by no means do i want to steal or copy @/contact-guy 's style, idea or anything, i just like drawing these two and thought this would be a nice visual

The condolences are people from my favourite cases (that happened before The Final Problem according to @/contact-guy cause her order makes the most sense) and there is one imposter among them.

The quote on the grave is "No longer mourn for me when I am dead" from Shakespeare's sonnet 71. For me it reads as a nice yearning and the "And mock you with me after I am gone" at the end of the poem comes to me as nice metaphor for victorian society, its prejudices and taboos. Sonnet 87 was a strong contender, but not so much funeral like. I really really tried to pick some homoerotic victorian poem, but for the love of me i couldn't find anything published before holmes' death that could be cited on a grave. I wanted to include a verse from the poem "An Arundel tomb" ("What will survive of us is love", but not this one… you know, that wouldn't be put on a grave for a man by a man in victorian era), but that would be anachronistic and I decided against it. "Bright star" by John Keats was also considered (bright as intelligent and magnifficent, haha get it? that's a stupid joke), but nothing to put on a grave. Thought of Rimbaud or Verlaine (famously gay lovers and poets), but the vibe was off.

Text of the letter Mrs Hudson wrote as a condolence (look, this is only an excrept and nothing to be taken too seriously, i whipped it out in a minute): The rooms now belong to Mycroft, but you are welcome at any moment, just like he would have wanted. Mrs Hudson

Text of the Irregulars: We liked him. Irregulars (i wrote this with the pencil in my fist like an uneducated homeless victorian child to achieve the effect)

You can use my art in edits, as wallpapers and so on, but please keep my signature there and/or tag me if you do

Seriously i kinda love these two images

[rustymind]

exhausting days

just imagine...

the past few days were extremely tiring

catching up with your studies and tasks was getting harder and harder, your to-do list growing every day

you felt like you haven't had a good sleep since forever

and of course megumi notices this

he always notices when something's off, especially if it's about you

he doesn't really know how to approach a situation like this

he is your best friend, so he should be doing something, but at the same time he's not really good at these talks

so he doesn't talk

at first you didn't notice anything, just had that weird feeling that something changed

your morning coffee appearing on the counter seemingly out of thin air

your laundry disappearing from the messy pile you threw your clothes in and magically gets in your closet, clean

your homework being already half-made, even though you don't remember starting it

yeah, weird things happened but being as exhausted as you were, noticing it took much longer than it should've

and then, the most of it was still awaiting to come

the gifts

yes, you heard me right, gifts

that's when you finally snap out of your tiredness, realising that you have a secret helper

it starts with a box of chocolate left on your desk, with a small note on it

only your initials, and in the corner: from f.m.

you couldn't believe it was really him

not that you didn't like him, but he just didn't seem like the person to notice such a change in your behavior, and to act like this

but this weird pheonomenon continues anyways

flowers in your doorstep, your favourite sweets in your bag, and all with the same note

megumi hates to see you exhausted because he knows exactly how it feels

you look like life's been sucked out if you and he can't bear to see it for longer

he often thinks about just straight up confessing to you but never does

maybe it would be too confusing for you and make things worse

or maybe he just doesn't want to admit to himself that he's afraid

but it doesn't matter

you slowly but surely get better

starting to observe megumi's actions around you, you can't believe how could you be so blind

he speaks so gently to you

opens the doors

lends you anything you need, from money to pens — anything

and you thought that he was this mystery of a boy! how wrong you were

if you look closely enough you can even see a faint blush on his cheeks when you get closer to him than usual

so when your finals are over, you just simply walk up to him with a wave

"thank you" you say, suddenly a bit nervous. "y'know, for everything."

he averts his eyes, hiding behind an unreadable exterior. at least that's what he thinks. you've learned to read him quite easily.

"i don't know what you're talking about."

he crosses his arms.

a grin spreads across your lips, nodding in fake-believing, as if saying "yeah yeah whatever" and you simply lean closer, pressing a playful, yet soft kiss on his cheeks.

"see you later!"

you say as running away. he definetly wasn't as mysterious as he thought he was, neither were you as brave as you thought you were.

© rustymind 2025 , do not copy , modify or translate my work

this wasn't proofread, i just wrote it because i hate the last weeks of school, i barely have any time for myself. if i have to suffer, so does everyone else.

comments are appreciated!