—I’d absolutely adore you to write a scenario for Dan Heng, Sunday, and Aventurine (Possibly Shadow if you feel real extra tonight.)
How would each character react towards their partner falling asleep against them? Whether it’s late at night, early morning, they’re simply too comfortable to keep themselves awake.. and this would dawn on our dear characters. Feeling a sense of warmth, knowing their presence brings such a high level of comfort n’ security, where we—the reader fall asleep with ease no matter where we are so long as we have them. 💙✨
Anchored in Stillness
Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Comfort, Quiet Moments Softness, Vulnerability Gentle Affection, Bonding, Emotional Reflection, Introspection, Slow Burn, Established Relationship.
It was late in the quiet hours of the night, the gentle hum of the Astral Express barely audible as it sailed through the endless expanse of space. Dan Heng sat in a corner of the lounge, eyes scanning a book that had long since lost its grip on his attention. His focus, though steady and disciplined as always, was elsewhere now. The warmth of the room, combined with the soft whirring of the train, created a sense of peace he rarely afforded himself.
It was then that he felt it—soft pressure on his shoulder. His eyes drifted to his side, and he froze for a moment. There, resting against him, was you, your body relaxed in a deep, untroubled sleep. Your presence, warm and quiet, was almost a contrast to his own habitual distance. Dan Heng’s gaze softened slightly, the weight of the moment settling over him.
His lips parted, but no words came. He didn’t want to disturb you. There was something deeply comforting about this—how, even in the quietest, most vulnerable moment, you trusted him to be your anchor. He didn’t feel the need to say anything. The connection was unspoken, but it was real.
Dan Heng shifted subtly, ensuring his posture was just right so you could remain comfortable. He could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against him, each inhale a small reassurance. It was in these moments, in the quiet stillness of the night, that he allowed himself a brief reprieve from the guilt, from the weight of the past that clung to him so tightly. Here, now, in the silence, he felt something akin to peace. He wasn’t alone—not anymore.
And as you continued to sleep soundly, his own eyes fluttered closed, the faintest trace of a sigh escaping his lips. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t running from something.
The moonlight outside cast a soft glow over the Astral Express, and the cabin was bathed in a tranquil, almost ethereal light. Sunday sat at the edge of the couch, a book forgotten in his lap. His eyes wandered to the window, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. The gentle rhythm of the train’s movement was lulling, but it wasn’t what held his attention tonight.
It was the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing beside him. He turned, and there, curled up against his side, was you, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. Your body was relaxed, the weight of your head resting against his shoulder. For a moment, Sunday merely watched you, his eyes softening as he observed the vulnerability you showed in your sleep.
His wings fluttered slightly, as if subconsciously reacting to the warmth you exuded. He felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest—a sense of duty, yes, but something deeper, too. A connection that went beyond his usual capacity for empathy. It was the kind of bond that, despite all his doubts and internal struggles, felt undeniably right.
He felt your presence, steady and grounding, and it soothed him in ways he couldn’t quite describe. The idea that he could be someone who provided comfort—that he could be the source of someone else’s peace—was something he had never fully embraced before. Yet, here it was, real and undeniable.
Sunday’s breath caught for a moment as he allowed himself the luxury of simply being in the moment. He was so used to thinking of others, to sacrificing for the collective good, that he often forgot how to simply be for himself. But with you here, asleep and safe, he felt a strange sense of ease. It was a quiet reassurance, like a whisper in his heart that reminded him of the small, beautiful connections that made life worth living.
His hand shifted slightly, resting over your shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He wasn’t sure if you were aware of his touch, but it didn’t matter. The warmth between you was enough, and with a soft sigh, Sunday closed his eyes for a brief moment. There, in the stillness, he allowed himself the rare indulgence of peace.
Aventurine, ever the master of managing his surroundings, sat in his luxurious chair, surveying the quiet room with a calculated detachment. It was well into the night, and the flickering light of a candle danced across the polished surfaces of the cabin, casting long shadows on the walls. He should have been focusing on the many schemes, the next move in the game, but something about tonight felt different.
He had thought he was alone in the room, but as he shifted slightly in his chair, he felt a warmth at his side. Looking down, he saw you, your head gently resting against his shoulder, your body soft and relaxed as you drifted off to sleep. Your presence was unexpected, yet it wasn’t unwelcome.
Aventurine’s eyes narrowed slightly, the usual hint of calculation in his gaze replaced by something softer. He had never been one to let his guard down, not even for a moment, but here he was, caught off-guard by the intimacy of it all. His mind raced as he quickly calculated the right course of action—should he move? Should he speak?
But then he paused.
Your presence, your comfort, filled the space around him. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the warmth radiating from you—it was an unexpected peace, a momentary break from the endless games of strategy he played with his life. For all his calculated risks and meticulous plans, he hadn’t anticipated something as simple as this.
He allowed himself a rare, almost imperceptible smile, his eyes flickering with a touch of vulnerability—just for a moment. His gloved hand moved almost instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the harshness of his demeanor. He hadn’t realized how much he had longed for this kind of closeness, this kind of warmth.
The silence was heavy with unspoken words, the tension of his past and his ambition swirling just beneath the surface, but for now, Aventurine let it all fade into the background. Your presence grounded him, and for the first time in a long while, the thrill of the gamble didn’t feel so urgent. With a quiet sigh, he allowed his body to relax, his hand resting on the armrest of the chair as he let his thoughts drift, your warmth a silent reminder of the connection he never quite understood but desperately needed.
In the soft silence of the night, Aventurine let the game rest, just for a while.
Okay, this might sound a bit strange, but I want to talk about Kai Chisaki (Overhaul) 👀
Obviously, he’s a villain, duh. Like, what he did to Eri was horrifying, and I’m not trying to excuse any of that. But when he was first introduced, I felt this weird sense of safety from his character, and I think I finally understand why. 😅
It wasn’t about what he did, but the energy he gave off. He came across as strong, focused, and in control. Like someone who has a plan, who KNOWS what he’s doing, who doesn’t waste time playing games. A leader. A man who’s not afraid to take responsibility, even if it’s in the wrong direction 🤌🏻
And honestly… my life has felt pretty chaotic lately. And when I compare that to most of the men I’ve known, ugh, so many of them felt emotionally immature. Like I had to shrink myself or lower my standards just to connect. 🙄 With Overhaul (again, not the actual character, but the vibe he gives), it’s like: here’s someone I wouldn’t need to “fix”. Someone I could stand next to, not above. Someone who could lead without needing to be taught how. 🙌🏻
Of course, I’m not glorifying the villainous parts of him 😅. But if you take away the evil and keep the traits like confidence, control, composure, IT’S RARE.
And that’s probably why he became one of my favorite characters in the show. Not because of what he did, but because of how he made me feel. Safe, for once. 🫶🏻
💌 To the Girl Who Thinks Being Sweet Will Save Her
Dear girl with the ribbon in her hair,
You think if you’re sweet enough,
quiet enough,
soft enough—
you’ll be spared.
That love will stay.
That storms will pass over you.
That nothing sharp will touch the girl who never raises her voice.
You believe goodness is armor.
That being agreeable is safety.
That they’ll love you because you’re easy to hold.
But here’s the truth I didn’t know how to tell you back then:
Kindness is not a contract.
It does not guarantee you’ll be chosen.
It does not protect you from being left.
You can give your best and still be forgotten.
You can listen well and still be misunderstood.
You can soften every edge of yourself
and still find yourself alone.
They will say, “You’re so sweet.”
And leave.
Not because you weren’t enough—
but because sweetness isn’t what keeps people.
It is not your job to be palatable.
It is not your duty to be pleasing.
You are not a teacup to be sipped and set aside.
I know you don’t believe me yet.
You think if you just keep folding,
shrinking,
agreeing—
someone will finally say,
“This is the girl I’ll stay for.”
But one day—
you will get tired of making yourself smaller
to fit inside someone else’s story.
One day,
you will wear the red ribbon.
One day,
you will say no,
and not feel the need to explain.
One day,
you will realize sweetness is beautiful—
but not when it’s used to keep yourself silent.
So be sweet.
But let it come with fire.
Be gentle.
But let it be your choice.
And love?
Love will find you.
The kind that stays.
The kind that doesn’t need you to disappear.
It’s wild how money—just paper or numbers on a screen—can have such a powerful grip on our emotions. We chase it, stress over it, sacrifice time, energy, and sometimes even our peace of mind just to earn a little more of it. And yet, no matter how hard we try to hold on, it always seems to slip through our fingers like water. Rent, bills, groceries, unexpected emergencies—it’s gone before we even…
A request specifically for Kaveh. Him and hser have been friends ever since they were both 8 years old when he first moved into the neighborhood. They've been inseparable ever since then, and shared many memories. They ended up becoming a couple at the age of sixteen, and their love for each other was contagious. So one day, Kaveh is finally free from any clients or projects, but his partner isn't. So he sits alone in their shared house, organizing some of the mess in his office, and he comes across a photo album. Inside the album, he finds many photos of him and reader together from all ages and all times. And it melts his heart seeing how far they've gone. (Basically, the idea of the fic is that with every photo he looks at, he remembers the conversation behind this photo and what happened before it was taken. It can be a total of four photos! One from when they were kids, one where they're pre teens, one when they were teens, and one when they were both in collage.)
Our Timeless Story
Summary: Kaveh finds himself with rare free time in the quiet of the shared home he has with his partner, you. While organizing his office, he stumbles upon a forgotten photo album that chronicles your shared journey from childhood to adulthood. As he flips through four cherished photos, he reflects on the memories behind each one—your first meeting, shared adventures, your transition to a couple, and the dreams you chased together in college. The nostalgic trip leaves him overwhelmed with love and gratitude for how far you’ve come together.
Tags: Kaveh x Reader, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort (mild nostalgia-induced emotions), Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Emotional Reflection, Photo Album Memories.
Warnings: Brief mentions of financial struggles and emotional vulnerability (light, not explicit), Mild bittersweet nostalgia.
Kaveh let out a deep sigh, reclining in the quiet of their shared home. The sun streamed through the large windows, casting golden rays over the intricate furniture he had designed himself. For once, he was free—no clients demanding his attention, no blueprints to pore over. But the space felt too still without you there. You were busy with work, leaving him to his own devices.
To occupy himself, he wandered into his office, which was cluttered with stacks of papers and scattered sketches. As he began tidying up, a dusty corner of the shelf caught his eye. There, wedged between a few architectural tomes, was a photo album he hadn’t seen in years. Curious, he pulled it out and sat at the desk, brushing the cover off with a smile.
Opening the album, Kaveh’s heart swelled as he saw the first photo—a slightly faded snapshot of two eight-year-olds sitting under a tree, faces smeared with ice cream.
The memory came rushing back. He had just moved into the neighborhood, nervous and unsure. You had been the first to approach him, your smile wide and welcoming.
“Kaveh, you have to try the ice cream from the cart down the street,” you’d said, tugging his hand.
He’d followed you hesitantly, but after one taste of the cold, sweet treat, his worries melted away. The two of you had spent hours under that tree, talking about everything and nothing.
In the photo, his hair was a mess, and your shirt had a large chocolate stain. But you were laughing, carefree, and he remembered thinking even then how glad he was to have met you.
Turning the page, he found the next photo, one from your pre-teen years.
This one showed the two of you standing knee-deep in a river, water splashing around as you grinned at the camera.
“That was the summer we decided to become explorers,” Kaveh muttered to himself, chuckling.
You had convinced him that the woods near your neighborhood held ancient treasures. Armed with a homemade map and an old compass, the two of you had ventured out, only to stumble upon the river. You’d dared each other to wade in, and it turned into a water fight that left you both soaked and laughing until your sides hurt.
The photo had been taken by a kind stranger who had come across your antics. Looking at it now, Kaveh felt the warmth of that day—the carefree joy of youth and the bond that was already unshakable.
His fingers lingered on the next page, where a photo from your teenage years awaited.
This one was taken at a festival. You were both sixteen, standing in front of a backdrop of lanterns. Kaveh’s arm was around your shoulder, and your head rested lightly against his.
He smiled wistfully, remembering the nervous energy of that evening. It had been your first official date as a couple, though you’d been inseparable for years.
“You look beautiful,” he had told you, his cheeks burning as he handed you a small bouquet of flowers he’d picked up on the way.
“And you look like you’re about to faint,” you’d teased, but the way you’d held his hand told him you were just as nervous.
The photo captured the glow of the lanterns and the way you both smiled at each other—shy, yet so full of love.
Kaveh turned to the final photo, taken during your college years.
The image showed the two of you sitting on the steps of the architecture department, a blueprint sprawled between you. Kaveh’s arm was flung around your shoulders, and your head was thrown back in laughter.
He remembered the endless nights you spent studying together, supporting each other through every challenge. This photo had been taken after a particularly grueling project.
“You really think we can pull this off?” he’d asked, his voice filled with doubt.
You’d nudged him playfully. “Of course we can. We’re Kaveh and [Name].”
That unwavering confidence in him had always been his anchor, and seeing it in your eyes made him believe he could achieve anything.
Closing the album, Kaveh leaned back in his chair, his chest tight with emotion. These moments were more than memories—they were the foundation of everything he held dear.
When you finally came home that evening, he greeted you at the door, pulling you into a warm embrace.
“Kaveh? What’s gotten into you?” you asked, laughing as he buried his face in your shoulder.
“I was just thinking,” he murmured, his voice soft. “We’ve come so far, haven’t we?”
You pulled back to look at him, your eyes searching his. “We have. And we’ve got so much more to look forward to.”
As you smiled at him, Kaveh realized that, just like in those photos, every moment with you was a treasure—one he would cherish forever.
I keep thinking about how strange memory is. Two people can live through the same family, the same years, and still carry completely different versions of what happened. Some people remember full scenes. Some remember only feelings. And some, like me, are left trying to understand the blank spaces.
Lately, I’ve been talking to family members in a deeper way, not just as relatives, but as people…
