Work Text:
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Carl Morck is not an openly affectionate man – not out of a lack of care, but out of discomfort. He’s better at showing up for you than he is at showing feelings. His affection shows itself in practical ways: the cup of coffee he places in front of you every morning without you having to ask, the gruff “text me when you get home” that sounds like an order but lands like concern, the way he knows when to just listen rather than try to offer solutions.
If you call him sweet, he’ll make a face and act grossed out, but mentally take note to do whatever it was more often. For him, being present matters more than nice words and grand displays. The longer he loves you, the more he shows up – not with words, but with small, deliberate acts of care stitched into the everyday.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
You guys definitely disliked each other at first – you were one of the only people who pushed back against him, who returned his snark and didn’t flinch at his brusqueness. In return, he’d stop brushing you off, respecting your stubbornness.
Over time, the insults turn into banter, banter turns into trust, trust into affection. He might still call you an idiot when you do something reckless, but he’ll also make sure you get home in one piece afterward. He’d defend you without hesitation, though he’d downplay it: “You’d do the same for me,” he’d say, as if it were obvious.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Carl makes it very clear at first that he only tolerates cuddling for your benefit – sitting stiffly at first, arms crossed, making some pointed remark about personal space, like, “What are you, a cat?” But the longer you stay, the more you feel him relax into it – the quiet, simple closeness, the feeling of casual intimacy – and before you know it, his arm is wrapped around you, pulling you closer.
He’ll never initiate in public, and rarely initiates in private, but when he reads case files or watches TV, you catch him leaving deliberate space for you on the sofa. Eventually, after a particularly difficult day at work, he’ll find you on the couch, mutter a half-hearted “move over”, curl into you, and then just… stay.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Domestic life with Carl is… rather undomestic. He’s a tornado as he comes home from work, a whirlwind of old case files and leftover grumpiness from dealing with his coworkers. Your home is filled with coats draped over chairs, papers on all available surfaces, and empty mugs left in the sink. He lives like a man who prioritizes work over everything else.
If you move in, he adapts… Slowly. He’ll never become a neat freak, but he’ll meet you halfway. He’s not much of a cook, but he tries, making dishes he can throw on the stove and leave for hours at a time. He’ll clear space for your things without comment, start brewing an extra cup of coffee in the morning, even fix that kitchen light he’s ignored for months. He’s quick to learn what makes you comfortable.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
Carl is a disaster when it comes to handling human emotions. The moment he starts to believe he’s dragging his partner down – emotionally or practically – he’ll pull away. Not explosively, just… withdraw. Not because he wants out, but because he thinks you’re better off without the mess of him, his job, his past, his moods.
He’d let you get mad at him, let you yell, but when it’s all said and done, he’ll keep distant tabs on you – just to make sure you’re okay. He can live with you being angry at him, but he couldn’t live with the thought of dragging you down with him.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
Marriage is definitely not something that Carl romanticises – he sees it as serious, and binding, and eternally complicated. The notion of commitment like that is terrifying to him, and he would never promise forever to you until he’s sure he can keep it, and do it well. Carl would think about it quietly, agonising over it before he even considers bringing it up to you.
The proposal itself would be rather straightforward, but not entirely unromantic – proposing the idea of the marriage to you to make sure that you want this, that you want him. Beneath that straightforwardness, though, is the weight of a man who doesn’t commit lightly. Once he’s in, he’s steady. The kind of steady that holds your hand and never lets go, even when things get ugly.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Carl is all sharp edges and gruffness on the outside – biting words, rough attitude, dry humour. But underneath, you find him to be startlingly gentle with the people he loves. Not gentle in the soft, delicate sense – he’s gentle in restraint. He lowers his voice when you’re upset, keeps his hands careful and steady when he touches you, makes sure not to push at you when you’re overwhelmed.
Emotionally, he’s not warm, but he cares. When he talks to you, it’s honest – he won’t sugarcoat the truth, but he’ll listen when you speak, and when you’re upset, he won’t offer empty comfort, he’ll listen or just sit with you until you feel lighter.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Carl hugs are few and far between, but he offers them when it counts – after a scare, or a rough day at work, or when something upsets you. His hugs are firm, grounding, and you can physically feel the tension bleed out of him when they happen. He’ll try to pull away, unsure if you really want it, but when you keep hold of him, he’ll pull you closer and hold you for as long as you need him.
Day-to-day, Carl hugs are rare, but each one counts. He doesn’t half-ass affection – when he holds you, he means it.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
It’ll take months, maybe longer. He’ll say everything except those words – “Take care,” “Get some sleep,” “Text me when you get home.” You know before he admits it. When he finally says the three little words, it’s in the middle of an argument. You’re going back and forth about something – you putting yourself in danger, maybe – and you end up shouting “Why do you even care?”, to which he responds, “Because I love you!”
It hangs in the air after, both of you startled by it and neither of you knowing how to respond. Carl will sigh, hands on his hips and head hung low, before repeating it quietly. Afterwards, he’ll look away nervously, but there’s palpable relief in his face when you repeat it back to him.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
Carl isn’t the dramatic-jealous type, but he definitely gets jealous. He watches, expression flat but eyes sharp. If someone gets too close, he won’t confront them – he’ll wait until you’re alone and ask, in a deceptively casual tone, “Who was that?” He’s checking in on you, making sure you’re alright, while also gaging if he should be concerned.
If he feels threatened, he won’t lash out – he’ll retreat quietly, watching. He trusts you, but his line of work has taught him to expect the worst from people. It’s not about control, it’s about fear – that something good might slip away.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
In the day to day, his kisses are brief and steady – a reassurance, a brief reminder of each other’s presence. When something rattles him, whether it’s adrenaline, a close call, or simply him getting riled up, there’s a hunger in his kisses – not frantic, but deep, deliberate, like he’s trying to memorise you.
He generally prefers kissing your forehead, temple, jawline, anywhere that makes you smile and lets him see it. He likes when you kiss him first – he melts when you kiss near his scar, or the greys in his beard, reminding him that he’s loved, not despite things like his past, or his age, but because of them.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
Carl is… Awkward around kids. He’s blunt, and he swears, and he’s caught off guard by their openness and honesty. At first, he doesn’t know how to talk to them, but something about their honesty and curiosity disarms him.
He’s patient in ways that surprise even himself – answering their questions honestly, handing them a juice box, tying their shoes without fuss. He’s more gentle with kids than he realises, and they like being around him because he treats them like adults, and never patronizes them.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
Carl in the mornings is grumpy, tired, and slow moving. If you’re cheerful in the morning, he’ll stare at you over the rim of his coffee mug in bafflement, needing to be at least two cups in before he’s uttering any words that aren’t curses or complaints.
Truth is, he begins to like the routine of having you there – the quiet clink of mugs, the radio humming softly. He likes that you’re good with Jasper, that Jasper seems to like you, in turn, and that the morning starts to provide a sense of normalcy he rarely gets.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
Nights are quiet. He often works late, sometimes very late, and when he gets home, he decompresses in silence. You’ll hear the door, the sigh, the thunk of his keys and his coat – and if you’re still awake, he’ll come find you, holding you until the day bleeds away. He sleeps light, but deeper when you’re near, and when the nightmares hit, he’s too ashamed to say what they’re about, he’ll just pull you closer until the shaking stops.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves?)
Carl doesn’t “open up”, at least not in a dramatic way. He reveals himself in fragments. He lets things slip, in names mentioned in stories or offhand remarks, and over time, you can feel his wall lower, piece by piece. The night he finally shares something painful, he does it with his face turned away, scrubbing a hand over his beard like he’s distracting himself, like he doesn’t want to see your reaction.
He doesn’t trust easily, but once he starts letting you in, he won’t stop. He’ll tell you things he’s never admitted aloud, and when he’s done, he’ll look at you like he expects you to walk away – when you don’t, that’s when he truly falls in love.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
Carl has an incredibly short fuse – we all know this. He snaps easily, and often, especially when it comes to his work. But with you, he tries to be more patient, tries to hold his tongue – if he snaps, he apologises somewhat awkwardly, yet profusely, running his hands over his face like he hates even having emotions to deal with.
With you, he’s learning that not every raised voice is a fight to win – you help him slow down, breathe, see that he’s allowed to show softness without losing strength.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you?)
He remembers nearly everything. From work, his brain is trained to recognise and retain details, patterns, and observations. If you mentioned something once, he’ll recall it precisely – even years later. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, but the truth is, if he cares, he makes note of things.
You’d be shocked by how much he remembers – he’ll mention the exact details you’d forgotten you said, like that author you like, the song that made you cry, the way you take your tea. He files them away like evidence, retrieves them when it matters. When he’s fond of someone, his mind becomes a map of everything that makes them human.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
I like to think it’s something to do with you and the other people he cares about – a very rare moment of camaraderie, possibly after solving a difficult case. Maybe a post-work drink, or a meal at his place, where he sees you interacting with his little work family, with Jasper, with Martin, of all people.
You make Jasper laugh, and Carl makes eye contact with Hardy, who’s giving him a Look, and it just – clicks. He suddenly can’t imagine not having you around. There’s a casual comfort there, an ease in which you all interact, a sense of peace, and it’s all because of you. He’ll reminisce on that moment later – they way your smile looked in the soft glow of the candle light, the sound of your laugh, the knowing look Akram had given him as he’d left.
S = Security (How protective are they?)
Carl Morck is protective to a fault – but it’s cautious, not possessive. His time working on the force has wired him to expect danger, to see the worst side of the world and the way people end up hurt, and so when it comes to you, that wariness sharpens tenfold.
He scans the room as you enter, steps in between you and strangers, walks on the outer side of the sidewalk – he’ll never make a deal about it, it just becomes his instinct. You might tease him occasionally for it, but he won’t stop – not when he’s already lost too much, not when the thought of losing you terrifies him.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
He’s not a grand romantic, and he has no interest in putting on a pretty show that doesn’t mean anything – the effort he makes is practical. He fixes things around the house before you get the chance to complain about them, brings you coffee the way you like it when he senses you’re getting tired, grabs a few of your favourite snacks on his way home from work just because. Makes sure he’s home in time to have dinner with you, even if it means returning to the station to work later.
Anniversaries with him are quiet and sincere: a testament of your time together celebrated through a nice meal, a small thoughtful gift, and an evening at home without interruptions. His care shows up in the everyday, steady and unembellished, proving that for a man who hates fuss, he still tries harder than most.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
Carl’s plethora of bad habits aren’t exactly the most endearing, and he doesn’t try to disguise them. When overwhelmed, he shuts down completely, brooding and disappearing into silence that feels like a locked door you can’t get through. He bottles things up until they eat away at him, lets guilt drive him mad, forgets to eat when he’s on a case, relies on too much coffee and occasionally too much whisky, and he argues himself into corners when irritated.
Worst of all is his sharp tongue and sarcasm, which can land far harsher than he intends – and honestly admitting something is hurting him is an impossible feat. But, even with all that, he tries – slowly, unevenly, and often with more effort than he likes to admit. When you call him out, he listens, he takes note, and he tries.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
He really doesn’t care about looking polished – his clothes are practical, comfortable, often rumpled and sometimes mismatched. His shirts carry the kind of creases that let you know he picked them from the back of a chair that morning, and his hair is very often shaggy and in need of a trim. Still, he notices his appearance when you notice. He’ll straighten his shirt, run a hand through his hair, even take care of his beard more if he knows it matters to you.
When you step in to fix something yourself – straighten his collar, brush lint from his coat, run your hand through his hair – he pauses and lets you with a faint smirk plastered on his face, because deep down, he likes being seen by you, and he likes that you care enough to fuss over him when he won’t.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
He was fine alone — he’d built an entire life around that assumption. Solitude was familiar, predictable, something he knew how to manage, but with you, everything makes more sense. Not dependence, but... Balance.
You don’t complete him, you pull him out of the shadows he’d accepted as permanent, reminding him there’s a world beyond crime scenes and autopsy reports. He’d never say it outright — he’s too proud, too used to keeping his own company — but without you, his life would slip back into shades of grey. You give him reasons to look past the darkness — reasons to come home.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
Carl isn’t the type to announce his interests, so most people don’t realize he reads as much as he does – it’s simply the one place he can make his mind settle without effort. It’s a lot of battered paperbacks, well-worn from being shoved in his pocket or his desk drawer at work. He likes a crime novel, of course – though only older ones, with methodical plots he has to slow down to figure out.
When he needs to quiet his thoughts, he reaches for nonfiction – biographies, essays, strange little field guides about birds or weather patterns or obscure historical events. Things to anchor him.
And when he really cares for someone, he shares the hobby with them. He’ll hand you one without comment, quietly watching to see if you’ll like it. For Carl, sharing what he reads is as close as he comes to saying, This matters to me. And so do you.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
He hates any sort of emotional games or manipulative behavior, as well as people who are all talk with no substance. Forced cheerfulness grates on him, and false charm is even worse. He’s dealt with enough dishonesty and avoidance in his career to have zero patience left for it in his personal life.
In a partner, he values honesty – even when it’s uncomfortable – and a kind of stability he can rely on. Unpredictability makes him wary, but someone real – someone with substance, who can hold their own without flinching at his rough edges, who challenges him – he respects that. If you play games, he’s gone, but if you’re genuine, and willing to face things head-on, he’ll choose you every time.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)
He sleeps lightly – decades of police work wired that into him – and he wakes at the smallest sound, always checking the clock, always making sure you’re still beside him. Even in sleep, his mind turns over case work and loose ends, never fully shutting off.
On the nights after hard cases, his dreams run rough – he mumbles, his fists clench, his whole body goes still in that eerie, too-controlled way that means a nightmare is tightening around him. But the moment you reach for him, he settles, breath easing against your shoulder, hand finding yours. And after the really bad nights, you wake to find him already up, just watching you, just making sure you’re okay.