#COMFORT

[artbylittlebug]

[thesecondhandwoman]

Hello I’m back but with a properly formulated request!

Sevika x single mom? Head-cannons, drabbles ect, I’m not picky

Or, you and sevika had been dating a few months but she didn’t know you had a daughter. One day you invite her to your house for afternoon tea (and to meet your daughter)….sevika shows up early with flowers but it’s not you who opens the door, it’s a 5 year old?

-thank you! Pictures of my dog Milo will only be sent if you do this 💗💗💗

A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: After inviting Sevika to come to your house due to months of dating, you didn’t expect her to come early. So, without any knowledge and the doorbell ringing, you daughter answered instead, surprising Sevika entirely.

Request: @possessedmagpie

Sevika wasn’t nervous. Not exactly.

She tugged on the cuff of her jacket, the bouquet of flowers clutched in her other hand as she stood outside your door. This wasn’t a big deal—it was just tea at your place. Nothing she hadn’t done before, right?

Well, except it was the first time you’d invited her over.

The thought made her shift her weight, suddenly hyper-aware of the flowers in her hand. Were flowers too much? She didn’t usually do romantic gestures, but you brought something out in her—something soft and warm, something that wanted to try for you.

Taking a steadying breath, she knocked on the door. It opened almost immediately, but it wasn’t you standing there.

It was a kid.

A very small, very curious kid.

Sevika froze. The child blinked up at her with wide eyes, her head tilting as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Hi,” the little girl said, her voice bright and clear.

“Uh, ” Sevika’s mind blanked. She glanced down at the flowers, then back at the child. “Hi.”

The girl squinted at her, clearly unimpressed. “Who are you?”

“I’m…” Sevika glanced around as if looking for you to appear and rescue her. “I’m Sevika. Is—uh—is your mom home?”

The girl’s eyes lit up at that. “You’re here for Mommy?”

Sevika nodded, still not entirely sure what was happening.

The child seemed to consider this, then stepped back and opened the door wider. “Okay, come in! Mommy’s in the kitchen. I’ll show you!”

Before Sevika could react, the girl grabbed her free hand and started tugging her inside. The bouquet bobbed awkwardly in her grip as she let herself be dragged into the small, cozy apartment.

Sevika took it all in at a glance: the lived-in feel of the space, the faint smell of something cooking, the drawings taped up on the fridge. Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train.

You had a kid.

The girl plopped herself onto the couch and patted the seat next to her, looking up at Sevika expectantly. “Sit down! Mommy will be done soon. You can talk to me!”

Sevika sat stiffly, her brain still trying to catch up. She glanced down at the child, who was now inspecting the bouquet with open curiosity.

“Are those for Mommy?” the girl asked, reaching out to touch the petals.

“Yeah,” Sevika said, her voice coming out rougher than she intended. She cleared her throat. “For your mom.”

The girl grinned. “She’s gonna love them. She likes pretty things.”

Sevika found herself relaxing a little at the child’s enthusiasm. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. I’m Dahlia,” the girl said proudly. “What’s your name again?”

“Sevika.”

“Sevika,” Dahlia repeated, testing the word. “That’s a cool name.”

Sevika smirked despite herself. “Thanks, kid.”

Before Dahlia could launch into another round of questions, your voice called from the kitchen. “Dahlia, who’s at the door?”

“It’s Sevika!” Dahlia yelled back, making Sevika wince at the volume.

Your footsteps came quickly, and a moment later, you appeared in the doorway, holding a dish towel. The moment your eyes landed on Sevika, they went wide.

“You’re early,” you said, a hint of panic in your voice.

Sevika gave a sheepish shrug. “Yeah, I guess I—uh—caught you off guard.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I was going to… ease into this.”

Sevika’s brow furrowed. “Ease into what?”

You gestured toward Dahlia, who was now busy arranging the flowers in a vase she’d found on the coffee table. “This. Her.”

Sevika stared at you, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form a response. “You didn’t tell me you had a kid.”

“I know,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “I wanted to. I just didn’t know how.”

Sevika exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch. “That’s a lot to spring on someone.”

“I know,” you repeated, your voice softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

Dahlia looked up from her flowers, oblivious to the tension in the room. “Mommy, Sevika’s really nice! She let me smell the flowers!”

You managed a small smile, crouching down beside her. “That’s very sweet of her, isn’t it?”

Dahlia nodded enthusiastically, and you turned back to Sevika, your eyes searching hers. “Can you stay? Just for a little while? I’ll explain everything. Please.”

Sevika hesitated, her gaze flicking between you and Dahlia. Finally, she nodded. “Yeah. I can stay.”

Lunch was a strange mix of awkwardness and warmth. Dahlia’s endless chatter filled the silences, her stories ranging from her favorite cartoons to the adventures of her stuffed bear, Mr. Bubbles.

Sevika found herself drawn into the conversation despite her initial discomfort. Dahlia had a way of demanding attention in a way that felt familiar—like a certain blue-haired girl Sevika had once known.

“You’re good with her,” you said quietly when Dahlia ran off to grab a book she wanted to show Sevika.

Sevika snorted. “You think so?”

“I do,” you said, your gaze soft. “I was worried… about how this would go. But you’re handling it better than I expected.”

Sevika shrugged, glancing toward the hallway where Dahlia had disappeared. “She’s a good kid. Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“Jinx?”

“Yeah.” Sevika’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “She used to follow me around all the time as a kid, asking a million questions. Drove me crazy back then, but I guess I got used to it.”

You smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “Thank you. For staying.”

Sevika’s fingers curled around yours, her grip firm but gentle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

After lunch, Dahlia insisted Sevika help her draw. You watched from the kitchen as they sat on the living room floor, crayons scattered between them.

“Your coloring is terrible,” Dahlia declared, pointing at Sevika’s attempt at a flower.

Sevika raised an eyebrow. “You could just say thank you.”

Dahlia giggled, leaning over to “fix” the drawing. “There. Now it’s pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sevika muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

You leaned against the counter, your heart swelling at the sight. Sevika didn’t just tolerate Dahlia—she engaged with her, teasing and listening in a way that felt effortless. It was more than you’d dared to hope for.

When Dahlia finally ran out of steam and curled up on the couch with Mr. Bubbles, you and Sevika found yourselves alone in the quiet living room.

“She likes you,” you said softly, sitting beside her.

Sevika smirked. “Yeah? How can you tell?”

“She doesn’t usually let anyone touch her crayons,” you teased.

Sevika chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Well, I’m honored.”

You leaned into her, your head resting against her chest. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for. And if it’s too much—”

“Don’t,” Sevika said firmly, cutting you off. “I’m here. I want to be here. Okay?”

You nodded, your throat tightening with emotion.

Sevika tilted your chin up, her gaze steady and warm. “You and her? You’re a package deal. I get that. And I’m in.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but before you could respond, Sevika leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. It was slow and grounding, a silent promise you felt in every inch of your being.

When she pulled back, you smiled up at her, your fingers brushing against the scar on her cheek. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

Sevika smirked. “Guess that makes two of us.”

The sound of Dahlia’s soft snores filled the room, and for the first time in years, you felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

A/N: This was such a cute request and I’m mad that I couldn’t expand it more (struggled a bit and working on the headcanons with other requests). Hope you enjoy it though :)!

[little-kittybaby]

I always feel guilty when I don’t hold all my stuffies :< (this is a great message btw)

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

[angelovi]

Simon with a reader who has some trauma around sex, asks him to stop and scrambles off to hide in the bathroom. How would he react? I’d like some comfort please, love ya <3

Simon comforting his love that has trauma

"Missed ya, love." Simon's warm voice fills the air as he settles onto the couch beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you in a comforting embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, and you feel a wave of warmth and safety wash over you as he leans in closer, a smile spreading across his face.

A soft grin spreads across your face, making your cheeks glow and your eyes sparkle. As you turn the page, the rustle of the paper fills the room.

He softly kisses your neck, moving slowly along your skin. A shiver runs down your spine, and you hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t go any further. You feel a knot of uncertainty in your stomach, reminding you of the secret you haven’t shared. Everything that happened with your ex weighs on your mind.

As he reaches for the bottom of your shirt, a wave of tension hits you, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Slowly, he starts to pull the fabric off, and the cool air hits your skin as the shirt finally comes off, leaving you feeling a bit exposed under his stare.

“Simo-” your words were cut off by a kiss as he reaches for your waistband. Before he had the option to slip your sweats off, you push him away and storm away to the bathroom, tears streaming down your cheeks as you attempt to calm yourself down.

He watches you go, confusion and concern etched on his face. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering something to himself. After a moment, he goes after you, finding you curled up on the cold bathroom floor, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

He lowers himself to his knees beside you, his muscular frame dwarfing your smaller one. With a reluctant sigh, he reaches out and cups your face.

“Don’t touch me!” you blurt out, your arms quickly going up to cover your face. A mix of panic and fear enters your voice as you squeeze into the chilly corner of the bathroom. The cold tiles press into your back, and the dim lighting casts creepy shadows that make you want to disappear into the tiny space.

Simon pulled back a bit, looking confused as he tried to figure out what had just happened. “Shh, it’s just me.” he said softly, trying to calm things down.

Your chest feels tight, and every quick breath leaves you feeling lightheaded and shaky. It’s like there’s this invisible pressure on you, making it hard to take a deep breath.

Simon’s heart breaks as he watches you hyperventilate. He shifts you to sit sideways across his lap, leaning you against his shoulder. “Slow breaths, baby. In and out. That's it..” he coaches you gently, his large hand splayed across your back to keep you supported.

As you start to regain your breath, Simon’s mind starts racing with dark thoughts. He looks down at your trembling form, his protective instincts kicking in again.

“Look at me.” he uses a finger under your chin to tilt your face upwards. “Tell me why you're crying like this.”

“My ex-” was all you managed to utter before your voice caught in your throat, the weight of the memories crashing down on you. Suddenly, tears streamed down your cheeks, a sob escaping your lips.

“Oh, baby girl. You never told me.” his voice softens more, seeing how vulnerable you are.

You bury yourself into him further, desperate for any form of comfort. One of his hands comes up to caress your hair while the other presses you closer. “Did he?..”

A nod was all he needed to understand the situation. He gently lifts you further into his arms, cradling you against his chest like a child. “I’ve got you now, baby girl. No one’s gonna hurt you again.”

He starts stroking your hair again, murmuring soothing words. “Just breathe, you're safe now.” his fingers gently massage your scalp, hoping to bring you back from the bad memories.

He begins to rock you slowly, one hand still in your hair while the other supports your upper back. You feel a quick jolt in your body as you take a deep, shaky breath, letting the air fill your lungs. You try to slow down your racing thoughts and suppress the butterflies in your chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is gentle and sweet, not wanting to trigger you any further. You quickly shake your head, so he drops the subject, nodding understandingly.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don't have to. Not now, not ever if you don't want to.” he continues running his fingers through your hair.

“Let's go watch a movie baby. Might help take your mind off things,” he suggests softly, his thumb brushing away a tear that slips down your cheek.

He guides you to the comfort of your shared bed before climbing in with you. “Good girl,” he utters before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Sorry for the short and late post lol I've been trying to find motivation to post more so this is just quick and simple <3

[artbylittlebug]

[mochacoda]

what is love? | chs

Pairing: Chwe Vernon x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: What is love? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it’s what you feel for Vernon Chwe. Unfortunately for you, you really didn’t know any better. It’s been 2 days since you confessed to your best friend that you love him, and it’s been 2 days since you’ve talked to him. Now you're hiding in the bridal suite of your friend's wedding, avoiding him.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Friends to Lovers

Tags: bridesmaid!reader, groomsman!vernon, insecure reader, jihyo appears, dino's getting married in this one lolz, intense pining, lots of internal spiraling, vernon's facial expressions get flamed, 2 kdrama fall moments, a little konglish w/ translations, a kiss, no "y/n"

Word Count: 6.3K

What is love? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that it’s what you feel for Chwe Vernon. Unfortunately for you, though, you really didn’t know any better, and now you’re facing the consequences of your actions. 

It’s been two days since you confessed to your best friend that you love him, and it’s been two days since you’ve talked to the man. Honestly, you have no one to blame but yourself, but you’ve convinced yourself that it’s everyone else’s fault for encouraging you. Maybe, if they hadn’t kept pushing you to confess to him—insisting that he definitely was into you—then you wouldn’t be in this position. 

Said position involves taking turns hiding in the bridal suite and bathroom of this wedding venue. In fact, you’re so committed to your act that you’ve practically become one with the shadows.

If anything, Vernon should be grateful that you’re going out of your way to avoid him. That way, he wouldn’t get bombarded with the secondhand embarrassment from remembering that horrible day. 

The only reason you’re here right now is because both Chan and his bride are close friends of yours, and you wouldn’t want to miss their wedding for the world. Plus, you’re also a bridesmaid. 

It was on you for blurting a disastrous confession to Vernon a few hours after the wedding rehearsal. 

But the bride and groom don’t even know that things have changed between the two of you. Given the chaos of wedding preparations, you withheld the fact that you and Vernon are going through a rough patch right now—if not the end of the friendship entirely. You didn’t want to add to their stress, but now you feel like you’re on fire. 

After all, Vernon is one of the groomsmen. What’s worse is, the wedding plans involve bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle in pairs, and you’d been placed with Vernon without a second thought. 

In other words, you’re completely screwed. 

“T-minus 20,” your friend and fellow bridesmaid Jihyo says, nudging your side. “We should go now.”

You feel a faint pulsing at the forefront of your head, a headache creeping up on you. God, what if when he sees you, he shakes his head and makes an X or something with his hands, insisting that he won’t walk down with you? What if he finds you physically embarrassing to be around, and just walks away? You’ve been running away from him all day, so it might not be a stretch to consider that he might have been trying to get away from you, too. 

You groan, scrunching the root of your hair, somewhat messing up your carefully curled hair. No, he wouldn’t just leave, that would ruin the wedding. He has too much love for Chan to do that to him. If he protests, he’d either do it subtly right before or confront you after it’s all over. 

You shut your eyes and take a deep breath. No one knows about your falling out except for you. And, well, Vernon, of course, but that’s not who you have to keep this secret from. You have to do your best to act normal and not at all like your heart is on the verge of bursting. 

“Has anyone ever died of embarrassment?” you suddenly ask, fingers dancing to find something to channel your nervous energy into. You fist a bit of the dress you’re wearing, then release it when you realize you can’t wrinkle the pretty material. “Shit.” You smooth over the fabric with shaky, sweaty hands.

“What is going on with you?” Jihyo’s eyes narrow as she looks you over. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you manage, bouncing your leg up and down. 

“Later, as in when?” 

“After the wedding,” you grit. You want to bury your face in your hands, but the expensive makeup gives you pause. You settle for lowering your head, staring listlessly at the white tiles on the ground. 

“Is this about what happened with Vernon?” 

You whip your head up. “You know?”

Jihyo slowly blinks, then deadpans, “Uh, yeah? A, both of you have been weird. The last time I saw you two not together was like, five years ago. And B, you’re literally the least subtle person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh,” you squeak, then quickly ask, “Wait, what do you think happened with Vernon?”

She stares blankly at you, as if the answer is obvious. “You confessed. He said nothing. You ran away.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes growing comically large. Then, a frown replaces your shock. You don’t need to ask her how she knows. If anything, it just adds to the notion that even your other friends knew that he would’ve rejected you.

Jihyo sighs, coming over to the loveseat to sit next to you. She gives you a warm side hug, rubbing your back. “He’s a massive idiot. It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get it together for the wedding, hmm?”

You swallow roughly, then nod. 

She continues, “Seriously, though. I’ve known Vernon for almost as long as you have. He’s not great at talking when he’s caught off guard—you know that, too.”

You blink at her words, the tiniest spark of hope igniting in your chest. But you quickly stamp it out, remembering the face he had made when you blurted out that you loved him.

Brows furrowed, open-mouthed, eyes wide, dead silent—he had to have been looking at you with disgust. That was the only way any sane person could decipher that look, really! There was no way that that face was the look of a man who was in love with you, as your friends have claimed.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, wrinkling your mouth into a smile that anyone could tell was faked. “I’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, it’s not that deep. Just walk down the aisle with him. It’ll take 10 seconds, tops.”

You’re very sure she’s exaggerating, but you wave it off. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” she says dryly.

You glare at her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good, that’s the right mentality,” she says, clasping your shoulders, shaking your upper body. “파이팅! [Fighting!]”

“해야지, [gotta do it,]” you mutter. 

Jihyo’s right. You’ll have to see Vernon anyway, so you might as well do it with as much dignity as you can scrap together. 

Except, the little dignity you have left demands some more time to procrastinate and linger in your regret.

Jihyo stands up from the couch, but you don’t. Your limbs feel impossibly heavy, as if they’ve been held down by a massive boulder.

You groan, “Just go without me, I’ll leave soon. I wanna go as late as possible.” 

Jihyo looks at you with what you can only describe as immense pity. “Okay. I’ll see you in five?” 

You nod numbly, watching her walk away to open the doors of the bridal suite. 

Vaguely, you can hear some absentminded chatter across the room from the hair and makeup artists, mother of the bride, and maid of honor, all crowded over the bride. It’s all but a buzz in the back of your mind, though, since you’re preoccupied with trying to convince yourself that you have it in you to face Vernon. Knowing you only have five minutes before needing to walk down the aisle with him, your mouth feels dry—too dry. 

At that realization, you force your heavy limbs to get up, then walk over the fancy rug to the table where a myriad of miscellaneous objects have been strewn about. You reach for your bag to take out your water bottle, but your hands falter when you look at the little keychain attached to the bag. 

It’s a silver charm bracelet you’ve repurposed as a bag charm. It has a turtle and retriever puppy on it, representing the animals you’ve viewed each other as being. Seeing the charms causes a pang of longing to cut deep into you, reminding you of how much you’ve missed him in the last two days. 

Could you ever forgive yourself for ruining your precious friendship? For getting too greedy, for asking for too much? 

Your hands grip the edge of the table roughly, searching for something to stabilize your body, which is dangerously teetering in the high heels you had convinced yourself you’d be able to walk properly in. You’d bought it because the color of the shoe perfectly matches your dress, but the razor thin heel is proving to be an issue. 

Subconsciously, your hand reaches out from the table corner to your bag, gently rubbing the golden retriever charm Vernon always said looked like you, and you’re hit with a sudden intense wave of sadness—but not for the confession. 

No, instead, you turn your regret to the insecure internal ramblings that have ravaged you lately. 

The earnest, bright eyes of the little puppy charm makes you conscious of the hollow ache spreading throughout your body. How could you have been so mean to your poor, fragile heart? 

Alright, maybe you and Vernon wouldn’t be friends anymore. Maybe you would have to live without seeing him ever again. 

But you’d have to live with yourself, and it wasn’t right to treat yourself like this. 

Technically, Vernon didn’t even say anything to you. He didn’t outright reject you just yet, and he certainly didn’t say you weren’t someone worthy of love. So it was completely unfair for you to jump to those conclusions yourself, putting words in his mouth. 

And most of all, it would be even more unfair to you, represented by this adorable puppy charm, to lose yourself to heartbreak. 

Straightening your back, your other hand reaches into your bag for your water bottle. Upon chugging the remainder of the water, you close your eyes, concentrating on making your pulse slow down. It works, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You might have to live with the fallout of this confession, but you could also live with the truth. Loving Vernon wasn't a mistake, and it wouldn't feel like one, no matter how he responded. He deserved honesty, and you deserved to stand by it. Even if this was the end, you wanted to leave this part of your story knowing you'd done right by both of you. 

You nod to no one in particular, having made your mind up. After the wedding, you’ll go to him and be upfront about it all, bearing your soul to his response. 

For now, though, you’ll help him enjoy the wedding by continuing to stay out of his sight. If he can’t see you, he can’t get reminded of his need to reject you—which is important, of course, because you don’t want his memories of this wedding to be of you crying after he lets you down. 

With this renewed clarity, you steady yourself. Vernon doesn’t love you, and that’s okay. You’d do enough loving for the both of you.

────୨ৎ────

Vernon steps into the bridal suite, a thrum of nerves coursing through his veins. He’s spent the past half-hour searching for you in every nook and cranny of the venue, dodging curious glances and knowing jokes from the other groomsmen about his obvious distraction. Jihyo’s the one who finally pointed him in the right direction, murmuring something about how it’s been over five minutes, and how he’s the only one who can get you to show up.

When he sees you standing by the table, shoulders tense, your hands gripping the edge like it’s the only thing keeping you upright, his breath catches. There you are, beautiful and strong and fragile all at once, lost in your thoughts. His chest constricts. How did it come to this? How did the best thing in his life become the one thing he feels he’s on the verge of losing?

“Hey,” he says softly, taking a step forward, calling your name softly.

Your head snaps up at the sound of his voice, and the sudden movement sends you teetering in your high heels. Eyes wide, you twist toward him, your balance faltering. “Vernon?”

It happens in a split second. One of your heels trips on the edge of the rug, and you stumble forward. Vernon darts forward instinctively, grabbing you just before you hit the ground. His arms wrap around you tightly, steadying you.

For a moment, everything stops. Leaning against his chest, you can hear his heartbeat, a frantic rhythm that matches your own. God, your near face plant must have scared him a lot?

But just as you start to regain your footing, your heel accidentally digs into his foot, and he lets out a yelp of pain. 

The abrupt shift in weight sends him off balance, and the two of you tumble onto the floor in a tangled heap.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Vernon’s crazy seagull call of a laugh cuts through the tension. 

It’s infectious, and before you know it, you’re both laughing, the sound filling the room. It’s ridiculous, it’s messy, and it’s the most alive you’ve felt in days.

When your body relaxes all of its tension, you realize that you’ve missed him with every fiber of your being. That something in you has been waiting for him, like you’ve been in withdrawal without hearing his laughter in the last two days. 

You’d planned on continuing to avoid him until the end of the wedding, so that he could enjoy his night without you, but that idea is crumbling right before your eyes. You might not be able to bring yourself to stay away from him any longer. 

And then, oh, then—the laughter fades, and you realize how close you are. 

Vernon’s face is inches from yours, his warm breath fanning across your skin. His eyes, dark and soft, hold a depth of emotion that makes your stomach twist. And for a fleeting moment, you think you see something raw and unguarded in his gaze—something that looks a lot like love.

Your chest tightens, and your thoughts spiral. No—it can’t be. What about his nauseated reaction the other day? 

You scramble to put distance between you, pushing yourself off him and stepping back hastily. Too hastily, really.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if that will somehow restore your composure. “I didn’t mean to, I swear—”

“It’s okay,” Vernon says gently, sitting up. 

He reaches an arm out for you, but you’ve already retreated several steps, an apologetic smile plastered on your face.

“We should get going,” you say, your tone overly formal. “It’s almost time.” Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and stride toward the door, your movements stiff and hurried.

Vernon watches you go, his hand stiffly dropping to his side. He flexes it, then exhales sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of his calm exterior. 

You’re running again, and he’s running out of time to fix this. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he follows you out of the suite, his long strides easily catching up to you.

The two of you arrive at the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen just as the coordinator starts organizing everyone into pairs. You avoid Vernon’s gaze, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. 

But when it’s your turn to step forward, he’s there, holding out his hand to you. 

It shakes a little, and your breath hitches when you notice a flash of silver on his wrist. It’s a charm bracelet, and it’s unmistakably the same one you’ve kept on your bag for years, the little turtle and retriever puppy charms glinting under the soft light. 

Surely not? 

Surely, he doesn’t?

Tentatively, you place your hand in his, your fingers trembling. His grip is familiar, warm, and steady, grounding you even as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. 

As you walk toward the aisle together, you don't look at whoever you're supposed to be looking at, whether it's the officiant or the people clapping in the crowd. Instead, your eyes are trained on the jewelry peeking out of his sleeve, and how his hand feels so soft and warm and dependable against yours. 

Then, it suddenly occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, you saw it wrong that day. Maybe he wasn’t looking at you like he was appalled by your audacity to tell him your feelings. He might have actually really been confused, allowing for you to misinterpret his surprise for rejection. 

But as soon as the thought enters your mind, you dismiss it. False hope definitely wouldn’t do anything for your precious feelings. Especially when the hope was that Vernon, of all people, would love you as much as you love him.

Desperately avoiding eye contact with the man in question, you stare straight at the bridesmaid-groomsman pair in front of you. 

If Vernon loved you back, then he’d say it. He’d show it somehow, some day. Today wasn’t that day, and that’s okay. 

You’d be alright without him, eventually. Probably. Hopefully?

With that rationale, you do your best to ignore your trembling legs, burning ears, and constricting chest. The bride and groom deserve a perfect procession, and you would play your role well. 

────୨ৎ────

It was a beautiful ceremony. And, three hours into the reception, you’re proud to say that you’ve survived. Promptly after the procession, you separated from Vernon, finding refuge within the bridesmaid group. Ever since, you’ve flitted around different tables, dancing with random people, all in the name of protecting him from seeing you. 

You’re actually incredible at avoiding people, if you do say so yourself. Every time you’ve seen Vernon within 50 feet of your vicinity, you’ve grabbed someone new to dance with or talk to. And for especially close calls, you’ve dragged Jihyo into the bathroom. 

This time, though, you’re hiding in the bathroom without her. She’d finally refused to go with you for the nth time. The brat had thrown you to the wolves, essentially. No girl code—the nerve of her!

Patting down the roots and length of your hair, which had gotten a bit frizzy, you stare at yourself blankly in the mirror, watching a shiver run down your spine from the cold air-conditioning blasting in the small space. 

Despite your efforts to calm down, a heavy sigh escapes your mouth, your shoulders feeling far too heavy. What are you doing, hiding?

God, you love him so much. So much that you’re willing to dance around him so he doesn’t get reminded of you, so that he doesn’t worry about how to reject you all night, so that he can just enjoy the wedding. 

What even is love? 

You’ve heard that love is sacrifice, and if what you feel is really love, then, well. You’ll have to try not to love anyone but yourself from now on, because unrequited love is somewhat horrible. 

You’ll get over him someday, right? 

Right?

Before you can psych yourself out of leaving the freezing but rather safe haven that is the restroom, you march over to the door with a new mantra. You shake your shoulders and roll your neck, cracking the joints in your fingers. 

“I’ll get over it,” you murmur. “I’m over it. I’m over it! Over, over, over.” 

Pushing the door open, you continue rambling to yourself. “I’ll get over it. Over, over, over, over...”

“Over what?” comes a familiar voice.

Oh, shit.

Wide-eyed, you look up to see Vernon blocking your way past the bathroom and back into the hallway leading to the reception. 

“Oh,” you gasp, limbs frozen. your eyes flit back to the door to the women’s restroom again, contemplating ditching him cheaply (again). 

Vernon steps closer, his gaze softening as he notices your hesitation. His voice is low and gentle—too gentle—when he speaks, almost as if he’s unsure how to break the silence.

"Hey," he says softly, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing against your arm. "You don't have to hide from me, y’know."

You glance up at him, your adrenaline flowing through your veins. You want to back away, to keep putting distance between you, but something about his insistent stare makes your legs freeze.

"I know it's been awkward," Vernon continues, his words more measured now. "But I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I just—I just want to talk." He brings his right hand up to his chest, like he’s swearing that he speaks the truth. 

You shake your head, your voice trembling. "You don’t have to. I don’t want to make things worse."

Vernon furrows his brows, stepping closer, as if he can’t bear to see you pull away from him again. "You think that running away will fix it? You think I want you to hide from me?"

You swallow hard, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know. This is all new to me."

"Then let me say it.” Vernon’s voice is strangled. "I don’t want to lose you, okay? I didn’t want it to happen like this, I…” His voice trails off as he clenches his fists, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again. “Please don’t think I shut you down, I just—I needed some time to process everything. I care about you a lot—so much more than I know how to show, sometimes. Or,” he huffs with red-rimmed eyes, “a lot of the time."

A silence settles between you, thick and heavy, but Vernon doesn’t seem to notice. He looks at you with downturned, shining eyes, and you feel your defenses slowly start to crumble. 

You’ve never seen him so devastated. 

"Come here," Vernon says softly, his arm reaching out to tug you closer, now fully clinging to your side. "Please don’t keep running. Please?” He says the last word like it’s a prayer—and, oh, is it a powerful one.

Every part of your body stiffens, caught off guard by how warm he is, then immediately relaxes at how gently he’s holding you, as if you would break if he held on any tighter.

"Please don’t run from me anymore," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. 

You think you could melt into his arms, and it takes everything within you to trust him, to not back away like you have for the past two days. With each passing second, you feel your spine relaxing and leaning into his touch. Then, in the midst of your relaxation, it occurs to you that he’s awaiting your reply.

But before you can answer his pleas, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the hallway. Jumping apart like fugitives before the law, you both turn to see Jihyo skidding around the corner, her face flushed with panic.

“There you are!” she exclaims, eyes wide. “The bouquet toss is about to happen! Get over here!” 

Before you can even blink, Jihyo grabs your wrist, pulling you away from the delicate warmth of Vernon’s embrace. 

“Now!” she shouts. 

You twist your back around to send him a helpless look, and all he gives you is an encouraging nod and the cutest, awkward little wave. You see the sincerity in his boyish smile, which makes your chest feel tight, as if all the air had been sucked from the room. It’s bad enough for your delicate heart. But then, most wickedly, you catch the adorable, anxious eagerness in his crinkled, watery eyes—and, oh, it really is all over for you, isn’t it?

You really won’t be able to love anyone else, will you? 

There is no “getting over” Chwe Vernon.

The last threads of your resolve crumble as you follow Jihyo. You barely register the steps that lead you back into the grand reception hall. She has a vice grip on your wrist, tugging you along with such urgency that your shoes almost trip you on the way inside. The room hums with energy, and you can’t help but feel out of place in the frenzy of people excitedly whispering and glancing toward the front.

Everyone has gathered in a semi-circle, eager faces all pointed at the bride, who is holding the bouquet high above her head. Your pulse is speeding up by the second, but it’s not for the reason the other single women are likely nervous for. All you can think about is how you’ve been dragged here with nothing but the love you have for Vernon—a deep, endless kind that threatens to burst out of you in a wildly embarrassing public display of affection.

"You're gonna be fine," Jihyo says with a grin, though it’s a little too wide, too bright. You’re not sure if she’s referring to the Vernon fiasco or the bouquet toss, but you force a smile back at her anyway.

"Sure I am," you mumble under your breath. 

She doesn’t hear you, or if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge that she heard it. She’s already turned her attention back to the bride, her arm brushing yours as she steps forward, positioning herself with the other women who are trying to catch the bouquet.

You stand awkwardly behind her at the edge of the crowd of single women, feet shuffling, heart still pounding from your conversation with Vernon.

Then, the live orchestral music shifts, and you feel a slight weight in your stomach, despite knowing the chances of the bouquet toss heading your way is slim to none. Still, it’s happening now, and you’re now on the single ladies floor, so there’s no backing out.

When you shift your back to brush away some of the hair obscuring your vision, you make eye contact with the very man who has been occupying your every thought this evening. Vernon had probably followed you and Jihyo as she pulled you away, since he’s now standing near you. And, oh, he’s close—only an arm’s distance or so away from you, standing at the front of the larger crowd. 

The closer the moment of the throw gets, the harder it is to ignore his burning presence. He’s standing with a group of other men who are watching the floor full of gorgeous, single women, but his attention is entirely on you. 

A subtle smile plays at the corners of his mouth, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels too thick. You have so much to say to him, and you don’t know how to get it all out in an eloquent way. 

But your deliberation of what to say to him is cut short by the screams announcing that the bouquet has launched into the air. 

You lift your chin up, squinting as the light of the chandeliers temporarily blinds you. By the time you blink away the flashing spots in your vision, you see the trajectory of the bouquet. 

It arcs high above the crowd of waiting women, catching the light as it spins toward the back—toward you! If you don’t move, the bouquet will crash into your face. 

Your arms instinctively reach for the flowers, reaching beyond what you’d thought was capable for yourself. But the second after your back stretches and feet jump to accommodate the move, your left heel completely gives out, sending your balance completely off-kilter.

Your arms flail uselessly as your ankle sharply twists, and the world tips sideways. The air rushes past your face, cold and sharp, and you brace yourself for impact—ready to collide utterly gracelessly with the hard floor. But before gravity can win, a pair of strong hands clamps around your waist, arresting your fall with a jarring yet steady pull.

The warmth of his touch spreads like wildfire through the thin fabric of your dress, grounding you in an instant. Vernon’s hands are firm, almost possessive, his grip both steady and urgent, like he’s afraid to let go.

Your chest presses against his, the faint thud of his heartbeat syncing with the chaotic rhythm of your own. His scent hits you next—a subtle mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him, crisp and comforting all at once. The tension in your body melts slightly as his arms secure you closer, your trembling legs finding balance in his hold.

“Hey,” he says, his breath fanning across the shell of your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine, his words calming and electrifying in equal measure.

Your fingers instinctively clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the soft fabric brushing against your palms, anchoring you to reality. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, the touch barely noticeable yet searing, and the warmth from his body radiates into yours like a shield against the world.

Slowly, he adjusts his grip, one hand sliding to the small of your back, the other ghosting against your shoulder as he steadies you on your feet. The gentleness of his movements is stark against the adrenaline roaring in your ears.

When you finally look up, your breath catches. His face is so close—closer than you were when you fell in the bridal suite, closer than you’ve ever been before. Close enough to see the individual strands of his long lashes, to see the beautiful shimmer in his brown eyes. His eyes, wide and searching, lock onto yours, the emotions swirling in their dark depths rendering you speechless.

“I’ve got you,” Vernon says, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the words reverberate through you like an earthquake. “다친데 없어? [You’re not hurt, are you?]”

You shake your head without much thought, the back of your neck and your ears burning up at how tender his touch is. 

His fingers linger at your waist, the subtle pressure of his touch still burning against your skin. Even as he pulls away just enough to give you space, the absence of his warmth feels like a loss you’re not ready to accept. Without thinking, your hand darts out, fingertips brushing against the sleeve covering the charm bracelet you saw during the procession.

And that’s when you notice the bouquet—clutched awkwardly in your other hand, its delicate petals trembling just as much as you are. The flowers are slightly askew from the near disaster, and it all comes crashing down on you. 

You wince at the ridiculous public scene you’ve made, but the smile that spreads across Vernon’s face is enough to make you forget about everything, humiliation be damned.

“Perfect,” he says softly, though you can hear the teasing edge in his voice. “You got it, princess.” 

Princess, the joke he started calling you after Disney movie marathons in which you mocked the main characters always needing men to save them—you were definitely having a princess moment right now.

Vernon reaches to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and you feel your cheeks heat from the decidedly intimate nature of his touch. 

And that’s when the room erupts. 

Cheers fill the space as the guests begin clapping, laughing, and shouting in celebration. You see Chan whistle, while his newlywed wife shouts, “Finally!” The noise surges around you, but you can’t focus on anything except the way Vernon is looking at you.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only one in the room, like you’re the only one he can see.

He’s looking at you in the same way you look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare past his shoulders to see the waiting eyes of the entire room. It’s as though they’ve known all along, most having been there to see the constant teasing, the not-so-secret glances exchanged, and the tension that’s been building for what feels like ages. Everyone knew before you two did, really.

The realization hits you all at once, and a nervous laugh escapes you. You’re caught in the act—the act of love—and there’s no denying it. 

You exchange an uncertain look with Vernon, and something flickers in his eyes. It’s something deeper, like the three words you told him two days ago, only to be met with silence.

“Looks like it’s fate, huh?” you joke weakly, shaking the bouquet, trying to regain some control over the situation. 

But Vernon doesn’t laugh. His expression just softens, and his voice is so, so deep when he speaks, it’s barely audible over the noise of the guests. “Y’know, you don’t have to joke your way out of this.”

You swallow hard, but before you can respond, he steps closer to you, his gaze unwavering, presence overwhelming. He reaches for your hand, gently pulling it into his, where it fits just so, and the warmth of his touch sends a wave of electricity through you.

“You know I’ve been looking for you, right?” Vernon continues, his voice slightly choked, making your chest tighten. “All day. All day, yesterday and today. I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything that day. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, I do,” he pauses, tightening his grasp on you. “It’s because I care too much, really.”

Your breath hitches. What is he saying? Your brain is practically numb from the excessive overthinking you’ve been doing for the past two days. He needs to just spell it out.

“What?”

Vernon exhales a short laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands, buried deep in his coat pockets, tense visibly as his shoulders lift slightly. “I feel like you don’t get it,” he says softly, the words teetering on the edge of vulnerability.

Your heart skips a beat. “Get what?”

He looks at you—really looks at you, staring intensely into your eyes, weighing whether or not to say the next part. His jaw tightens for a brief second, the muscle flexing as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He pulls a hand out of his pocket, raking it through his hair. His fingers linger at the nape of his neck before dropping back to his side, curling loosely as though they’re bracing for impact.

“That I’m here for you,” Vernon says, his voice barely above a whisper. He steps closer, not quite closing the distance but close enough that you can feel the addictive heat radiating off of him. “That I’ve always been here for you. And not…” He clenches and unclenches his fists. “Not just as a friend.”

Your breath hitches, and you feel his gaze flicker to your lips for the briefest moment before darting back to your eyes. His own are wide, filled with uncertainty but also a quiet kind of determination.

He shifts again, this time slipping his other hand out of his pocket and holding it out, palm up, like an offering. His fingers twitch slightly, betraying his nerves, and you notice a faint redness creeping up his neck, the telltale signs of his composure cracking.

“I didn’t say anything sooner because…” His voice trails as he bites the inside of his cheek, eyes dropping to the ground. When he looks up again, his expression is raw and completely unguarded. “Because I didn’t want to mess things up. But I can’t keep telling myself I don’t feel this way. I’m sorry I’m so late.”  

Your chest tightens as his words settle over you, finally registering the weight of them.

“Please don’t get over me,” he says all at once, breathlessly. His eyes are shining, his gaze ever so hopeful.

His hand lingers in the space between you, waiting, hoping.

“Please?”

You stare at his outstretched hand in disbelief, limbs locked by pure shock. Is this real? 

You can feel the effort it’s taking for him to stay still, his thumb twitching every few seconds like he’s fighting the urge to pull away and retreat.

When you don’t immediately respond, Vernon exhales shakily and starts to pull his hand back, his lips parting as if to apologize. 

But before he can, your fingers move instinctively, brushing against his.

The contact is brief, but it’s enough to make him freeze. His eyes snap to yours, widening as if he doesn’t quite believe what just happened. Slowly, hesitantly, his fingers curl around yours, the warmth of his touch steadying you as much as it does him.

“I mean it. I don’t want you to move on, because I love you,” he says shakily. “I’m in love with you, and I don’t know if you still feel that way for me, but… I need you to know how I feel.”

In the depths of his eyes, you see the vulnerability he’s always tried to hide, the intensity of the emotions he’s been holding back for so long.

And it’s as if the whole room vanishes, leaving just the two of you standing there. The bouquet is forgotten, and so are the guests, their cheers having long faded into the background.

Your heart feels as though it’s about to explode from your chest, but the words spill out before you can think. “I love you, too.”

Vernon brightens, eyes lighting up his, his grin stretching from ear to ear, and you fold. He’s handsome and sweet and a little awkward and brilliant—and yours.

Before your next breath, he’s leaning forward, closing the distance between you. 

His lips meet yours in a kiss so soft, so gentle, that you barely feel it at all. Impatient, you eagerly lift your chin up for more of him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss—oh, is it something to live for. You never want to let go. He tastes like chocolate and feels both firm and tender. He’s a dream come true—your very own prince, if you’re the princess. 

It feels like the world has finally clicked into place. You and Vernon are on the same page, and it’s indescribable, really.

When the roaring in your ears subsides, you hear some wolf whistles, and you suddenly realize where you are. You barely bring yourself to pull a few inches away from him, laughing softly, and he smiles, his eyes sparkling with so, so much warmth and love. It’s all for you. And you realize that here, in his arms, you feel full. You feel so warm, so cared for.

This, this is love. 

Masterlist

Author's Note: he's a bit of a loser in this, but i think he made up for it

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone

[zimswife]

Just me... A little sea mew mew 🤿🫧🐈‍⬛

[oceandelreysworld]

Hard times

Homophobic parents, vi comforts reader. Fluff(Angust to) a/u. Vi x reader.

You never thought you'd end up crying in the rain at Vi's doorsteps, but here you are. Kicked out of your house because your parents found out that you have a girlfriend...

You knocked at her door, not even 10 seconds later, she opened the door with wide eyes as you rushed into her arms.

"Hey hey hey, y/n what's wrong?" Vi asked while she rubbed your back, bringing you inside, closing the door. You started sobbing into her arms, and all she could do was stand there and wait for you to answer. As you picked your head up off her shoulder, she cupped your face as your eyes drifted off from her face. You couldn't look at her.

"They..they found out. They found out about everything. They found out about me, you, us. I'm so sorry. I really tried. And I know I shouldn't have just-" you rambled on so fast you didn't realize when she put her lips on yours. Your heart was racing, body tence, but Vi has always been here for you to come back to and to comfort you. Your body relaxes as her kiss lingers.

She slowly backs away from the kiss, resting her forehead on yours. Both of your eyes are closed.

"You don't ever have to apologize to me. Especially for being yourself. Okay?"

She wiped your tears away with her thumbs. You okay your eyes to find hers looking back at you.

"Okay...Vi I never...I never meant for you to get caught up in all of...this. Whatever this is. Their problems always reflect on me, which just falls back on you-"

"Honey, listen to me. I. Do. Not. Care. Fuck em. All that matters to me is you. I don't care what they think of me. I care about you and us."

She's soft with her voice, but you can tell she's being serious and stern. Vi means what she says. It comes from the deepest part of her heart.

You are her soul tie. Her string of balance. She's your twin flame. Your everything.

"Please understand when I say I love you. I love your mind, your body, your soul, even your damn stubbornness."

You both lightly laugh as you lean into her hands, placing your hand on top of hers.

"Vi is do, but I don't want to keep relying on you for everything. I'm helpless. I feel like I keep taking advantage of you. I fall back onto you when everything goes wrong."

You sob lightly, trying to catch your breath. Her eyebrows frowned, looking at you in the eyes.

"Oh my sweet girl...I'm here for that. That's what I'm here for, I'm here to go through these things with you. You're my girl. And I wouldn't change that for anything in the world."

She kisses your forehead, then you lean into her shoulder and she moves her hands down on your waist, rubbing her thumbs on your sides, as you move your arms around her neck, moving your body closer to hers.

"I love you." You say as your grip grows tighter around her.

"I love you more." There's a comforting moment of silence between you two before she speaks again."You can stay with me as long as you want to. I don't mind at all, okay? Don't ever think you're a burden on me." She always knows what you're thinking without speaking out loud. Vi knows just what to say to make you feel better.

"Okay. Thank you Vi. You always know what to say. "I know, baby. I know." She rubs up and down your back as you rest your body on hers.

"Hey baby?"

"Yeah?" You say as you picked your head up.

"Let's go lay down. How does that sound, hmm?" Vi hold your ever so gently, afraid if she hugs you to much you might break.

"Yeah, I would like that alot."

"Okay, but first let's get you changed into some different clothes."

"Okay...can I wear one of your shirts?"

Vi hums in approval, nodding her head. "Of course baby, whatever you want." She kisses your forehead.

___________________________________________

A/n: I hope you guys loved this plot as much as I did. I'm so glad I came up with this. Also, if anyone has parents like that, please reach out to me or someone for comfort. I know this is a very delicate subject. So if anyone needs to talk, I'm all open ears.

[aventurineswife]

Hiya!!! I wanted to request how HSR people (Jing Yuan specifically, but you can do more if you want, I just feel silly saying a specific person ;~;) would be with a Cat hybrid s/o? For genre I'd say mostly fluff. I'm not sure how to give more description, cause I'd love to hear your thoughts! If you do this, thank you so much!!! If not/you don't feel comfortable with it, that's totally okay too!!! Either way, love your writing!!! Have a good day/night!!! And please make sure to rest, eat, and drink some water :D <3

The Sound of Purring Peace

Summary: Jing Yuan finds comfort in the quiet company of his cat hybrid significant other. In a rare moment of peace away from his duties, he teases and spoils you with affection, encouraging you to help him rest. As you curl up together, the stresses of leadership melt away, and the two of you share a tender, intimate moment.

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Cat Hybrid!Reader, Fluff, Comfort, Soft Moments, Affectionate Jing Yuan, Rest, Tenderness, Romantic.

The bustling corridors of the Xianzhou Luofu quieted as you slipped into Jing Yuan’s chambers. Being a cat hybrid had its perks; stealth came naturally to you. Your ears flicked in response to the faint rustle of papers, followed by a soft exhale. Jing Yuan, the esteemed Arbiter-General of the Cloud Knights, was at his desk, eyes focused on a scroll. His long hair shimmered under the warm lamplight, tied loosely with the familiar red ribbon.

But your heart melted when you saw the faintest smile tug at his lips. He always knew when you were near.

"You're late," Jing Yuan said, not bothering to look up, his voice smooth and teasing.

You pouted, tail swishing behind you. “Says the man who naps half the day. How do you even notice the time?”

He chuckled softly, setting the scroll aside. “An Arbiter-General must remain observant at all times. Besides…” His gaze lifted, eyes locking with yours. “You’re quite hard to miss, little cat.”

Your cheeks warmed at the affectionate nickname. Bounding over to him, you perched on the armrest of his chair, curling your tail around yourself. He reached out, his hand gentle as it brushed against your ears. A purr involuntarily rumbled from your chest.

“Ah, there it is,” he murmured, leaning back as if satisfied with his discovery. “My greatest weapon—your purring.”

You swatted at his arm, but there was no real strength behind it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he countered, cupping your chin, his thumb brushing against your cheek, “you keep coming back.”

Silence lingered for a moment, the soft hum of the room wrapping around you both. Jing Yuan’s thumb traced slow, soothing patterns along your jawline. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as the tension of the day melted away.

“You’re overworking yourself again,” you murmured. “When’s the last time you took a proper break?”

He smirked. “I believe I took a rather refreshing nap yesterday.”

“That doesn’t count!” Your tail flicked in mild annoyance, but he only chuckled.

“Hmm. Perhaps I’ve been remiss in caring for myself,” he conceded, though his tone held a mischievous edge. “Would you, my dear, take it upon yourself to enforce my rest?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. “Are you asking me to become your personal nap enforcer?”

“Precisely.” Jing Yuan stood, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You squawked in protest, but he carried you to the plush couch near the window, settling down with you nestled against his chest. His capes draped over both of you like a blanket.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, though you couldn’t deny how comfortable you were in his embrace. Your tail curled around his arm, and he let out a soft sigh, resting his chin atop your head.

For a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift. The Dozing General, the Divine Foresight, the leader of the Cloud Knights—none of those titles mattered here. He was simply Jing Yuan, holding the person who made the endless march of time feel a little less lonely.

“Rest with me,” he whispered, voice low and warm. “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re here.”

You let out a soft purr in response, and his eyes softened further. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a shared tranquility. In this quiet moment, with no battles to fight or strategies to plan, it was just the two of you—content, safe, and at peace.

[rose24207]

Like a kiss

Summary: after coming to terms that his girlfriend is a ghost, a new routine builds.

Genre: fluff

Lando x ghost!f!reader

TW: mention of death

A/N: get ready for a new series!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The soft hum of morning filled the apartment as Lando shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, before grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

"Morning, love," he said casually, his voice still rough with sleep.

The kitchen light flickered once, and Lando smiled to himself. He knew what that meant: good morning.

It had been almost a year since Y/N passed, and Lando had gone through every stage of grief imaginable. There were nights when the loneliness was unbearable, and mornings when the silence was deafening. But then she started making her presence known—little things at first, like the lights flickering or her favorite mug being moved to the counter.

It scared him at first, thinking he was losing his mind. But over time, he realized it wasn’t just wishful thinking. She was still here, in her own way, and they had developed a rhythm that felt almost normal.

"Coffee or tea today?" he asked, glancing toward the light fixture.

The light flickered twice. Tea.

"Tea it is," he said, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water.

As he waited for it to boil, he leaned against the counter, looking around the apartment. It was still very much the same as when Y/N was alive—her touch was everywhere, from the throw pillows on the couch to the photo frames on the walls. He couldn’t bring himself to change much.

"You know," Lando said, his voice filling the quiet space, "I think I'm getting better at this whole cooking thing. Carlos and Max came over the other day, and they actually liked the pasta I made."

The light flickered once, and he laughed. "I know, right? Shocking. I didn’t even burn the garlic this time."

The kettle whistled, and Lando poured the hot water over the tea bag in her favorite mug. He set it on the counter across from his coffee, the same way he used to when they’d have breakfast together.

"I have media duties later," he said, sitting down at the counter. "You’d hate it. Same questions over and over again. ‘How do you feel about the car?’ ‘What’s your strategy for the weekend?’ Blah, blah, blah."

The light flickered twice quickly, and Lando grinned. "Exactly. It’s so boring."

He sipped his coffee, glancing at the chair across from him. It was empty, of course, but he could almost picture her sitting there, wrapped in one of his hoodies, her hair still messy from sleep.

"You know," he said softly, "I think about you all the time. Sometimes it feels like you’re just in the other room, and if I wait long enough, you’ll walk out and tell me I’m being lazy."

The light flickered once, and he smiled, though his chest ached.

After finishing his coffee, he rinsed the mug and set it in the sink. He grabbed his keys and wallet from the counter and paused by the door.

"Alright, I’m heading out," he said, turning back toward the apartment. "Don’t cause too much trouble while I’m gone."

The lights flickered twice, and Lando chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later."

Later that evening, Lando returned home, the day’s exhaustion settling in his bones. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, running a hand through his curls.

"I’m home!" he called out, the words instinctual.

The lamp in the living room flickered, and he smiled.

Dinner was a simple affair—just leftovers from the night before. As he ate, he talked about his day, recounting funny moments from the track and updates from the team. It was a one-sided conversation, but the occasional flicker of the lights or soft creak of the floorboards reminded him that she was listening.

After dinner, he cleaned up and settled on the couch with a blanket. He turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he landed on a Series they used to love watching together.

"Look," he said, holding up the remote. "It’s Teen Wolf. Your favorite."

The lamp flickered twice, and Lando laughed. "Alright, my second favorite. But you liked it enough to watch it a million times with me."

He sank into the couch, the familiar intro of the Series playing in the background. It was almost like old times—the glow of the TV, the soft warmth of the blanket, and the comforting feeling of not being alone.

As the fourth episode that evening ended, Lando stretched, his limbs heavy with sleep. He turned off the TV and stood, heading toward the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting a soft glow over the space. Lando changed into his pajamas and slid under the covers, letting out a content sigh.

"Goodnight, love," he murmured, his eyes already closing.

The lamp flickered once, and for a moment, he swore he felt the faintest brush of warmth against his cheek—like a kiss.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he drifted off to sleep, comforted by the knowledge that she was still there, watching over him.

It wasn’t the life they had planned, but it was theirs, and in its own way, it was enough.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[aventurineswife]

could you write Aventurine (and Zhongli, if you're up for it!! i'm curious to see how you write him <3) with a Reader that essentially has "silent" anxiety attacks?? no pressure ofc meaning: they're barely responding to their surroundings and behave like they've been paralyzed. their gaze kinda fixated on one spot/object and it's hard to pull them out of it? afterward they're super sleepy and maybe a little (uncharacteristically) clingy?

no this totally isn't inspired by me having an anxiety attack a few mins ago and now i can't stop yawning- wdym-

Through the Fog, You Remain

Tags: Zhongli x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Comfort, Emotional Support, Comforting, Vulnerability, Quiet Moments, Romance, Softness.

A/N: 🥺🫂💖

[Header credits]

The soft hum of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor echoed in the distance, the scent of incense curling through the air. Zhongli sat across from you, his eyes glimmering with unspoken thoughts. You had been engaged in conversation moments ago—an exchange of history, of customs, of the past—but now, his words faded into silence.

Your gaze had locked onto the cup of tea before you. The steam spiraled lazily, yet your eyes remained unblinking, fixated on its delicate motion. Zhongli noticed the change almost immediately. Your shoulders had stiffened, and your breathing grew shallow, a subtle but telltale sign of distress.

“[Name],” his voice was a deep, grounding melody. He waited for you to respond, but the stillness in your expression was his answer.

Rising from his seat, he moved gracefully to your side, kneeling so that his line of sight met yours. His hand hovered near yours, careful not to touch you without your permission. “You are lost in thought,” he murmured. “But I am here to guide you back.”

Zhongli’s voice carried the weight of ancient mountains—steady, reassuring, unyielding. He began to speak, not expecting a response but offering words to tether you to the present.

“Do you know,” he began, his tone as gentle as a whispering stream, “the first Mora ever created bore a carving of a stone lion. Its creator wished for it to symbolize strength and protection. A reminder that even in the darkest moments, we have something steadfast to rely on.”

He continued, recounting stories of Liyue’s history, his voice wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. Slowly, his words began to penetrate the fog clouding your mind. Your breathing deepened, and the tension in your shoulders eased.

When your eyes finally moved, breaking their fixation, they met Zhongli’s. Relief flickered across his otherwise composed face. “There you are,” he said softly, his lips curling into a faint smile.

You felt exhaustion wash over you, the aftereffects of the silent storm you had endured. Without a word, you leaned toward Zhongli, your head resting against his shoulder. The uncharacteristic gesture surprised him for only a moment before he adjusted, allowing you to find comfort in his presence.

“I will stay as long as you need,” he promised, his hand coming to rest lightly on your back, his warmth anchoring you further. “The mountains may crumble, but I will remain.”

That night, Zhongli didn’t leave your side. He ensured you rested, his presence a steady reminder that, like the unyielding earth, he would always be there to support you when your strength faltered.

The casino was unusually quiet—a rare moment of peace amidst the usual chaos. Aventurine lounged on a plush chair, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room. You sat beside him, your usual energy subdued. He had noticed your growing silence over the past hour, the way your laughter had faded, replaced by a faraway look in your eyes.

When your gaze locked onto the roulette wheel across the room, Aventurine frowned. He waved off a server approaching with drinks, his attention wholly on you. “Hey, doll,” he called, his voice light and teasing as usual. “What’s got you so fascinated? Thinking of trying your luck?”

No response. Your posture was rigid, your breathing shallow. He leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied you.

Ah, he realized. It wasn’t the roulette wheel holding your attention. Something had pulled you inward, away from the present, and left you paralyzed.

“Alright, alright,” Aventurine muttered, his usual bravado softening. He moved closer, crouching beside your chair so you wouldn’t have to meet his eyes if it felt overwhelming. “Let’s take a little break from whatever’s going on in that pretty head of yours, yeah?”

He didn’t touch you, not yet. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold coin. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning into the air, the metallic chime cutting through the haze surrounding you.

“Let’s play a little game,” he said, his voice low but inviting. “Heads, I’ll tell you about the time I conned a royal out of their entire treasury. Tails, you get to pick the story. Deal?”

The coin spun and fell into his palm, but he didn’t reveal the result. Instead, he continued to speak, his tone light and soothing. “You don’t have to answer. Just focus on the sound of my voice. It’s annoying, isn’t it? Hard to ignore.” A faint chuckle escaped him, designed to ease the tension.

Gradually, your breathing slowed, and the tension in your body began to melt. Your gaze shifted slightly, moving from the roulette wheel to the coin in Aventurine’s hand. He noticed immediately and grinned, though there was a rare softness in his expression.

“There you are,” he said, flipping the coin into your hand. “You win. Story’s on me.”

You managed a faint smile, but exhaustion quickly replaced it. Before you could say anything, you leaned into Aventurine, your head resting against his chest. The uncharacteristic gesture startled him for a moment, but he quickly adjusted, wrapping an arm around you.

“Alright, clingy it is,” he murmured, though his tone was far from annoyed. “You’re lucky I’ve got nowhere to be.”

He held you there, his flamboyant persona giving way to a quiet protectiveness. For all his theatrics and calculated risks, Aventurine knew when to set aside the games and simply be present.

That night, he stayed by your side, his voice and warmth a constant reminder that, in his presence, you were never alone—even when the world felt like too much.

[zimswife]

Bad kitty 😼⚔️

a scourge on the name of all good cats 🩸

[soundofwatersworld]

This is a soothing melody that will change your sleep.

Removes brain fatigue while you sleep.

[xreaderdumpster]

Logan’s nightmares

Pairing- Logan HowlettxWade WilsonxReader!

CW: Death mentions, mild descriptions of a nightmare, Logan calls reader “darlin’”, lots of comfort otherwise!!

Use of second person perspective (you) for the reader mentions, no gendered language!

Word count: 839 (short)

First full length fanfic attempt to this blog! Please let me know what you think ;w;

Fear gripped Logan as he jolted awake. His chest heaved, a light sheen of sweat across his naked torso. The nightmares. Seeing the ruins of the X-Mansion and his teammates… Freinds al dead. Finding the bodies of his lovers amongst them. The feeling of holding their cold bodies in his arms. It was enough to make any man wake up in a panic.

He looked to his right as he heard the soft snores of his male love, Wade, snoring and mumbling. Those soft lips moving like they did when he was awake. And beside him was you, his female love. Breathing softly and hair delicately framing your cheeks. Logan felt his racing heart begin to slow. You were both breathing. Both alive and ok beside him. He didn’t realise he was holding a sigh but it took some of the weight off his chest when he let it out. Trying not to disturb either of you, Logan carefully manoeuvred himself out of the bed. He didn’t want to… No, he couldn’t go back to sleep. Not yet. The sound of his feet against the hard wooden floor was minimal and silent. Having enhanced hearing meant he quickly learnt which of the floorboards creaked under his adamantium body and which didn’t. He took one last look to the two he loved most as they continued sleeping peacefully before closing the door behind him.

Silently, he walked to the guest room. This was his usual routine at night. He’d have a nightmare or two and get up because he couldn’t go back to sleep. But tonight he didn’t want to drink despite the slight dry taste in his mouth. Logan sat himself on the edge of the bed, rough hands running across the soft blanket that draped over the bedding. Wade had bought the blanket for Logan originally when he first moved in with him and Al. He came to this dimension with nothing but the clothes on his back yet Wade bought him the blanket to comfort him on cold nights. He picked it up, holding it to his cheek. The thick cotton always soothed Logan after a nightmare. The faint smell helped soothe his aching heart too. Bergamot that reminded him of Wade and Jasmine that reminded him of you. God knows how many times you three had curled up under the blanket to make it smell like you. But it’s what Logan needed. He allowed himself to lay on top of the blanket, legs over the edge as he pulled the red blanket around him. Part of him hated himself for seeking you comfort from a blanket instead of just holding you close. But he couldn’t disturb either of you.

Unfortunately, it turns out he did. The soft pattern of two different footprints came down the hall before knocking on the spare bedroom door.

“S’open.” Logan grumbled. The door opened to Wade and you standing there. Logan sat up, elbows resting on his muscular thighs.

“You ok, Lo?” You asked in your usual sleepy voice. Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on the oversized shirt and pyjama shorts you wore.

“I’m fine, darlin’. Go back to bed. Both of you.” Logan replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Wade frowned. He could see right through his lover.

“Nightmare again, huh?” Wade asked in an unusually calm and soft tone. Logan didn’t respond for a beat before nodding. He couldn’t lie to them.

You and Wade sat either side of him.

“Do you want us to leave you alone, peanut?” Wade asked, his hand on Logan’s shoulder. Logan’s hazel eyes never met yours or Wade’s. His gaze remained in his lap.

“Lo?” You asked, your hand resting on top of his. Another sigh escaped him almost involuntarily.

“Don’t go…” he whispered gruffly. The hand you held intertwined with his as his other hand held Wade’s. You glanced at Wade with a knowing expression. He gives you a nod. You know how to handle nightmare-riddled Logan. Gently, you guided Logan down onto the mattress, moving the blanket around him. Wade slipped into one side of the bed while you slipped into the other. Wade spooned Logan while you curled up facing him.

“We’re here, love. And we’re not going anywhere.” You reassured Logan as you cupped his cheeks. The light scratching sensation of his beard against your palms was always oddly soothing. Logan merely nodded, finally feeling the tension and worry beginning to fade. Your lips placed a kiss on his forehead. Your eyes locked onto his hazel ones. All the unspoken words loomed in the glow of the moonlight. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Wade’s breathing had already started to even out as he gently tugged Logan closer. The gentle, rhythmic pattern helped Logan to ground himself. He tugged you closer to his broad frame before allowing himself to close his eyes once more.

Some nights the nightmares didn’t come back. And it was because of you two.

[zimswife]

Fur real 🥲🐾