#because he'll use the espresso machine every day

[todaysromano]

08.21.2024

Today, Romano watched a beautiful sunset.

Arab.com link

[luvmahae]

fiction ‣ na jaemin

summary: like this again, i can’t forget you. jaemin spends his quiet days crafting lattes and sketching the girl who only exists in his dreams until you walk into the café, looking exactly like the one he's been drawing all along. are you the answer to his daydreams or something he'll never truly grasp?

pairing: barista!jaemin x fem!reader

genre: non-idol au, fluff, slice of life, very much ROMANCE... i just wanted to write about barista jaemin </3

word count: 2.5k! ˚｡⋆｡˚☽

notes: a short little fic as a gift for reaching 300+ followers! :D was very much inspired by the song fiction by beast/b2st/highlight?? (where my 2nd gen fans at....) (me) a little different from the content i put out, but i absolutely loved this plot sm... just had to. open to feedback and enjoy! ♡

Welcome to Café 꿈, may I take your order?

Jaemin lives a simple life. As a college student, he spends most of his free time helping out at his parents’ café in his hometown. Not out of obligation, but because he loves it. There’s something about coffee that intrigues him. The rich aroma of freshly ground beans, how unique each blend was in those tightly sealed bags, and how a small bean packs a ton of flavor within them. 

Life for him felt like a quiet, steady rhythm. Mornings consisted of pulling shots of espresso and creating latte art with every cup he touched, afternoons sketching whenever he had down time, and evenings caught between half-finished daydreams while doing closing tasks. 

His world revolves around two things: coffee and drawing. There wasn’t a day when he didn’t have his sketchpad sprawled out on the table and a hot cup of coffee nearby. It was just the perfect combination just for him. 

The late afternoon carried a sense of stillness, the kind that felt comforting and lonely. Outside the café, life moved at its usual pace. The noise from cars passing by, pedestrians walking around with places to be, but inside this cozy little space, time went by slower. It was a familiar kind of peace, one he’s grown used to, though it often left him alone with his thoughts and the faint hum of the espresso machine. 

The café that was buzzing with customers was now empty. The stillness of the space was broken only by the occasional scratch of his pencil on paper. The shelves that once held bags of various coffee blends now stood still, untouched. 

He sets his sketchpad down on the counter, flipping to the page where he last left off. A drawing of a girl is displayed in front of his very eyes, and it wasn't just any girl. It was you. The girl he’s never met, yet whose face has been so vividly etched into his mind from the countless dreams he had. You only existed through the steady glide of his pencil, every detail slowly coming to life in every stroke. 

Today, he’s focused on your smile. It’s soft and gentle, the kind that would make his heart race. His pencil hovers over the page as he debates whether to add the faintest dimple to your cheek. Would she have a dimple? It would be cute. Hmm. Decisions. 

The bell above the café door jingles, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glances up out of habit, ready to offer the usual polite greeting, but his voice falters.

You’re standing there.

For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it. The endless hours spent sketching had finally blurred the line between reality and fantasy. But you were real. Your long hair fell past your shoulders, and your eyes held a quiet warmth as they scanned the menu board. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and stepped forward, making eye contact with the man standing in front of you.

Jaemin forgot how to breathe.

“Hi.” Your voice is soft, your smile bright as you approach the counter. “Are you still open?”

He blinks, his brain scrambling to catch up. “Y-yeah. Yes, we’re open.”

You tilt your head slightly, an amused glint in your eyes. “Every time I pass by this place, it’s always busy. I never saw it this empty in a while,” you say with a small laugh.

Heat rushes to Jaemin’s face as he fumbles for the words. “It’s usually still a little busy around this time too… Maybe people had other plans? Or maybe because it’s the holiday season? Maybe they’re out of town— I mean… what can I get you today?”

You smiled again, and his heart stuttered in his chest. “Just a hot vanilla latte for me. Oh, and a blueberry scone warmed up, if you have any left. For here.”

“Coming right up.” He turns to the espresso machine, his hands moving on autopilot while his mind races. It’s you. The girl he’s been drawing for months. You even ordered the exact kind of drink he always imagined you’d like. It’s uncanny. 

When he places the ceramic cup and scone on the counter, you look at him with a smile that feels like sunshine. “Thanks… Jaemin,” you say, reading his name tag. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You take your items and settle at a table near the window, opening your laptop and disappearing into your work.

He stands frozen for a moment, the stillness of the café filling the space around him. His gaze lingers on you as you settle into your seat, the quiet click of your laptop's keyboard breaking the stillness. He blinks, almost expecting you to vanish the moment he looks away like a dream fading upon waking. But you don’t. You’re still there, your figure outlined by the soft glow of the setting sun peeking through the windows.

You're real.

After that first encounter, those days turned into weeks, and you became a regular. Every late afternoon, it was the same routine. You walk through the door, he takes your order, and you sit at your usual spot by the window. Jaemin’s heart leaps every time he hears the bell ring above the front, his head whipping towards the door hoping it’s you. He lives for your small exchanges at the counter. The way your lips curl when you say his name, the way you laugh at his awkward attempts at jokes, the way you stare up at the menu looking at all the options even though you go with the same items every time: A vanilla latte and a blueberry scone. 

You’re kind, effortlessly so. You often ask about his day, and he stumbles through his replies, mostly because he is nervous, the other half being afraid of saying too much. Times when you compliment the latte art he carefully crafted on your drink and the rush of pride he feels that stays with him long after you’ve left.

On his breaks, he sits with his sketchpad, pretending to work on something new while stealing glances at you. You often catch him, your eyes crinkling with a knowing smile, but you never say anything about it. Instead, you wave or offer a small wink that leaves him flustered for the rest of his shift.

Today, the café is quieter than usual this evening, only a few people, including yourself, occupying the space inside. You were tucked into your usual spot by the window, per usual, fingers clicking away at the keyboard of your laptop. You pick up the dark blue cup from its matching saucer, taking a quick sip of your vanilla latte before setting it back down. 

The faint sound of the music playing through the speakers became a soothing backdrop, but Jaemin can barely hear it over the sound of his heart beating out of his chest.

He watches you from behind the counter, his gaze darting away whenever you glance up. His fingers nervously toy with the edge of a napkin, his thoughts racing. Tonight. He’s decided it has to be tonight.

Jaemin, you got this.

Taking a deep breath, he wipes his palms on his apron and picks up a fresh hot vanilla latte he made for you, the foam meticulously swirled into a delicate heart. He steps out from behind the counter, each step feeling heavier than the last. He walks on over towards where you were sitting, hands firmly gripping the drink in hand. 

“Hey Y/N,” he says, his voice a little shakier than he intended.

You look up from your screen, staring at him and down at the cup he was holding. “Oh, another latte? I didn’t order—”

“It’s on the house!” he says quickly, setting the cup down in front of you. Your fingers brush his as you reach for it, and he feels a jolt of electricity shoot through him.

Your lips curl into a smile, your head tilting slightly. “Thanks, Jaemin. That’s really sweet.”

He hesitates, his hand lingering near the cup for a moment longer than necessary. “Hey, um…Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Would you… um… like to grab dinner with me sometime?”

The words hang in the air between you, his question as fragile as the foam heart he crafted moments ago. His palms are clammy, his heart a wild drumbeat in his chest. For a second, he thinks he might faint.

You blink, surprise flickering across your face, followed by something softer—something warmer. Your cheeks flush the faintest shade of pink as a smile spreads across your lips. “I’d love to.”

Relief floods through him, so intense it nearly knocks him off balance. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his lips tugging into a grin he can’t suppress. “Great. That’s…great. I mean, um, I’ll text you? Or—” He falters, realizing he doesn’t even have your number.

You laugh, the sound light and melodic. “Here.” You grab a napkin and jot down your number, sliding it across the table to him.

Jaemin takes it like it’s the most precious thing in the world, his fingers gripping onto the napkin tightly. “Thank you. I’ll…text you soon.”

You nod, your smile never fading. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As he walks back to the counter, his heart feels lighter than it has in months. The world around him seems brighter, more alive, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s finally stepped into one of his dreams.

One date turned into many. Each one felt like a chapter from a story Jaemin never thought he was allowed to live. All it took for him was that confidence boost and a bit of his sanity to make this happen. From quiet dinners at cozy restaurants in the area to long walks by the beach at sunset. Every moment with you left him wanting more. He didn’t want this story to end at all.

The sky filled with different shades of orange and pink as the sun set, and the water reflected the colors like a painting. Both of you walked side by side, the sound of waves crashing onto the shore in a gentle rhythm, accompanied by your conversation. Between the shared words were bursts of laughter and bright smiles. It almost felt like the only people that existed in this world were just you two. 

When your hand brushed his just ever so slightly, he hesitated for only a moment before intertwining his fingers with yours. The way your fingers fit together made his chest tighten. It was like you were meant to be there all along. He gave your hand a little squeeze before leading the way down the sandy path.

There were quieter moments, ones that he held just as close. After the café closed one night, you stayed behind, claiming you didn’t want to leave just yet. He made you a latte, and the two of you sat next to each other in one of the booths, your knees brushing as you sipped your drinks. The smell of coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of your laughter as he told you stories about his childhood. You listened intently, your eyes never leaving his, and for the first time, he felt truly seen.

He loved how you noticed the little things about him. The way you pointed out how his sketches had grown more detailed lately, or how you teased him for always making latte art hearts when it was just the two of you. He loved the way you looked at him, like he was more than just a barista or a boy with a sketchpad full of dreams. Like he was enough.

Your first kiss came on an evening that felt almost surreal. It was raining lightly, the kind of rain that made the world feel hushed and intimate. You stood under the awning outside the café, waiting for the downpour to let up. He stood beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets to keep them from shaking.

You turned to him, your smile soft and inviting. “Thanks for tonight.” you said, your voice barely louder than the patter of rain.

Jaemin swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. “Of course. I…I always like spending time with you.”

You tilt your head up towards him, your gaze locking with his. “Me too.”

There was a pause, charged and electric, and he felt his breath hitch. Slowly, tentatively, he leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, and when your lips met his, it was like the world stopped spinning.

Your lips were warm and soft, tasting faintly of vanilla from the lattes you’d shared. The kiss was gentle, almost shy, but it carried a depth of feeling that left both of you breathless. When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and your eyes held a warmth that made his heart feel impossibly full.

“Perfect.” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You smiled, brushing a raindrop from his cheek. “Yeah. It was.”

In those moments, he felt like the world had aligned in his favor. The nights you spent together, the quiet conversations, the kisses that followed. They all made him feel something he’d never dared to dream of before.

For the first time in his life, Jaemin felt like he was enough.

It’s a slow afternoon when the truth hits him. He sits at his usual spot, his sketchpad open to a fresh page. The bell above the door jingles, and he looks up, expecting to see you. But the café is empty, save for a lone customer near the back.

Frowning, he glances down at the page. His hand moves on its own, sketching your face with practiced ease. Your smile, your eyes, the way your hair frames your cheeks—every detail is etched into his memory.

But as the drawing comes to life, a hollow ache settles in his chest. He stares at the drawing, and the realization washes over him like a cold wave.

You aren’t real.

The dates, the laughter, the kisses. All of it has been in his head. A daydream he created to fill the gaps between the grind of his reality. He’d wanted it so badly, wanted you so badly, that he’d convinced himself you were real.

Jaemin closes the sketchpad slowly, his fingers trembling. The bell jingles again, and he looks up, half-hoping, half-dreading. But it’s not you. It never will be.

He inhales deeply, the rich aroma of coffee anchoring him as he rises and makes his way back to the counter. The café remains quiet, bathed in the same golden sunlight, and he finds himself still clinging to the remnants of his dream—just a little.

I will hold onto you, I won’t let you go.

[hopetorun]

"nights like these" for the meme!

before i dive into this, some notes: (1) this actually isn't something i would write because i do not feel like i have a read on one of the main characters or the vibes of the 2013-2022 florida panthers. (2) i'm so sorry if you personally aren't into this. (3) it got away from me so much of it is under a cut

anyway here is the story: it's september of 2022 in fort lauderdale, florida. florida panthers summer blockbuster acquisition matthew tkachuk is happy, and thriving, and ready to succeed in his new home, where he'll wear shorts and loafer mules 365 days a year. he has a great house that cost him basically his whole signing bonus and enough loved ones eager to visit that he'll never have to be banging around the giant house alone. he already has a sunburn.

there's only one small, small issue: he's 100% heartbroken.

(now for our purposes i don't think leon is the one who broke his heart. i think either johnny -- tragic unrequited love that johnny finally shut down? complicated relationship johnny broke off to flee to ohio? -- or just some guy he was dating who dumps him for some devastating reason that matthew handles with no grace at all internally and with perfect poise externally)

anyway, he's here now. new team. fresh start. he's going to make new friends and fill his life with rich new relationships and not miss what he used to have at all. one of those rich new relationships is going to be with his teammate and captain and definitely soon to be friend sasha barkov. he always wants to make friends but he's especially determined about this one.

what he doesn't know is that sasha is also heartbroken. his boyfriend? fwb? undefined something? jonny huby was up and traded with no warning and also dumped him. (see this is where i don't know enough about the vibes of the 2013-2022 florida panthers)

but sasha is friendly, and he clearly likes matthew, even if he's quiet and, matthew thinks, careful with his heart. but matthew's easy to like, you know? he's upbeat and thoughtful and generous and wants the people he's with to know he cares about them.

they get to know each other slowly, carefully, but still ... with maybe too much intensity. they do both have these major holes in their lives that they're looking for something to fill. late nights sharing a drink or a meal after the game that turn into really late nights, that sometimes turn into very early mornings. the season isn't going great, and they talk about that, but they also talk about their lives and their families and matthew's old team and what they think their current team could be, if they could get everyone healthy at the same time.

slowly, they start to spill about their past relationships, too. the nights don't get shorter. sometimes they crash at each other's places, just because it's easier. matthew likes not clattering around a big house by himself in the morning, likes the noise of sasha cursing under his breath at the fancy espresso machine taryn basically ordered him to buy and the soft murmur of the tv from the other room. it's what he wanted when he bought this big stupid house, to have someone (or many someones, a whole family) to fill it up with.

matthew is the main character of all star weekend, and he feels sasha watching him, and it feels like that has its own weight. every time he makes sasha laugh it feels heavier and more important and harder to think about too much. wanting things is how he got his heart broken in the first place. it's easier if he doesn't.

and then, of course, things start to go well and that makes it even more impossible to look directly at. he can't fuck this up now. can't rock the boat. but the thing between them, big and scary and intense and yet still easy, it's always easy, it felt like slotting into a place he was always meant to be from the beginning -- that thing, that doesn't go away.

matthew doesn't breathe a word of it until they finally lose. (conference final? cup final? is this concept i'm spinning on tumblr gonna get jossed in a month?) sasha comes over, maybe a day or two later, and they drink beers outside and nearly get caught by a thunderstorm and matthew kisses him while the rain beats against the windows and sasha doesn't sleep in the guest room that night

[izzysarchivedblogs]

OH.

Tony's reaction is perfect, somewhere between the lines of similar was to what he was hoping for him to respond with. The way his eyes go wide, bottom lip gaps open and he can see how a breath is caught, held in. Clint rubs his thumb over the wrist as he moves it away. HE HOPES HE DOES THAT AGAIN. As Clint would absolutely repeat the action.

It's teasing, exactly what they had agreed was all allowed. Tension, anticipation, PROMISE OF SOMETHING, but it's a hold with no release. They had to wait, but he could drop as many hints as he'd like to.

ASSHOLE. That has him smirking and his brain can't stop his mouth from saying, ❝ Aw, you like me! ❞ He'll take the title, and his mood may seem like a one-eighty and maybe it was, but they needed this. To be fair, Tony had said a lot in his responses that felt all too real, all to much like there was something genuine and honest. Something he'd like to hope explore.

❝ AND WHAT WOULD I BE DOING FOR THE SECOND OPTION? ❞ He asks all too coy about the fact that Tony admitted that Clint's little display was cause for a cold shower. He knew what that meant, but to say that Clint's own sex drive had been thinking about Tony would be a lie; it's been dead but Tony has definitely been the object to start to revive that. They shouldn't do that, both agreed they would be avoiding that, as to leave more room for Clint to focus his recovery.

❝ Don't you dare take away my true love, espresso machine. ❞

Clint only laugh when Tony finally retracts his hand than steps away from him, with a playful push, to start gathering what he thinks they need for making Clint's chocolate milk.

❝ I am an asshole, but there's a lot more FITTING things I could say. ❞ I FIGURED IT WAS YOUR WAY TO TELL ME TO GET MY EGO IN CHECK. Clint had several words he has used and would use if he was being an asshole, or needed to give Tony a reality check or check his ego. He's not going to say them now because this about flirting and saying something honest about Tony.

❝ NO ⸺⸻ You're Genius Superman, because you're smart, a dreamy hunk, and a hero. My hero. ❞ Now he knows that reading the comic books growing up that Tony could be compared to Batman and Bruce Wayne; rich and makes gadgets, a bit of an asshole. Tony was an asshole, but he is actually kind of dreamy, he flies, and now he is kind of a symbol of hope. He's the guy who lifts himself up and out, again and again. That's hope right there. At least to Clint.

He could argue there's a godlike thing about Superman, and Tony's always the teammate at risk of a god complex in his judgement. SEE THAT'S WHEN HE'D BE AN ASSHOLE AND CALL OUT TONY'S GOD EGO. Sure, Steve's maybe better fit for Superman, but this was Clint's perspective and fantasy. Along the simple fact that Superman and Tony fly; so that's where the connection started.

Sometimes he has meant that sarcastically, but in a much more endearing way than Tony had been thinking. IT'S ALL SAID LIKE A FLIRT, but there's some truth to that. GENIUS SUPERMAN.

Clint shrugs his shoulders, ❝ A little of column A, a little of column B. It's both, I've always liked it and it's a good craving replacement. ❞ He's okay right now, for the record, but there's quite hint that if Tony wanted to make sure to get chocolate milk stocked for the bad days than he knew a replacement; since Clint's not sure he's going to like mocktails. ❝ Use to be able to buy chocolate milks for a quarter the mini-mart near the the orphanage. I was always saving nickels so I could have one every dinner. ❞

Tony shivers and his breath catches. The breath on his wrist is worse than if Clint had just started kissing it. It's all anticipation and no release. He presses his thighs against the kitchen counter as his head goes all fuzzy for a moment. He has to brace. He wants to just go limp and give in to the thing that's building between them.

He tugs his hand away. "Asshole," he mutters. "You want a hot chocolate or for me to need a cold shower, 'cause it's one or the other. And don't think it'll mean you get coffee, cause I'll take that espresso machine with me."

He laughed and pushes Clint, snatching his hand away before he can grab it again.

Tony looked up and shook his head. "I always just figured it was you being an asshole. The way you're always calling Cap Methuselah. I figured it was your way to tell me to get my ego in check."

He shrugged. He never took anyone's complements at face value. He didn't even like it. He had gotten his AI to stop phrasing things as positive a long time ago because it felt strange having anyone compliment him, even if he'd programmed the thing complimenting him.

He pulled milk and whipped cream from the fridge and moved around the kitchen gathering up all the other things he might need, including spices, pans and whisks.

"Hey - is the chocolate milk a happy memory thing or just that you have the pallet of a small child and a sugar addiction?"

[malibusmoke]

How do the members of Bucci Gang take their coffee/tea?

at this point i'm personally too reliant of coffee... THANKYOU FOR FUELLING CAFFEINE THOTS

Squadra Guardie del corpo (Bucci Gang) Coffee Headcanons!

CW: None apart from Coffee

Leone Abbacchio

If he can't have wine, he'll be having lungo, or doppio. Or both, at the same time. Leone doesn't really give a shit what type it is as long as he gets his hit

Had high blood pressure at 20 from the amount of caffiene he has

At this point, coffee is the only thing sustaining him. If he can't have at least 4, then he will not function as a human being

Worked in a bar when he was studying criminology (before he dropped it) and hated every second. He has pissed in someone's coffee

Listens to his music out on a balcony, people watches while he absentmindedly stirrs his drink, or stares at the clouds and gets lost in his thoughts

Narancia Ghirga

Likes tea more than coffee, goes green, chai, or nutmeg and orange blossom. Instead of Coffee in the mornings he has spirulina or some kind of fruit juice

Narancia loves the smell of Coffee though, as it reminds him of his mother. For that reason Bruno gave him his old espresso machine, and some capsules

He steals Fugo's coffee foam though. Eventually learned how to make frothed milk which he happily eats with a spoon

Tiny cappuccino chiaro for Mr Smith

Bruno Buccellati

Classic Ristretto. Though he does order more expensive capsules; caramel créme brulee, black honey with arabica beans, spiced berry and pecan

He doesn't drink many during the day because he's pretty conscious about his health, but his apartment always carries a slightly earthy, warm smell of fondi di caffè

Bruno occasionally has latte macchiato in the mornings, or calmer days when he has more time to relax

Caffè sospeso! Every time he goes some place (only local, small buisnesses), he orders one for him, one suspended. Likes being able to make someone's day a bit nicer

Pannacotta Fugo

Let's be honest here. Without coffee? Narancia would have a full set of embedded in him

Caffè con panna. He uses this as a liquid meal, and occasionally bribes Narancia to study harder with the promise of cream

Fugo is snooty about coffee, he grew up with expensive... well, everything, and knows the difference between a good brew and a 'perfect' one

He drinks more than Leone is that's possible. let's say 6 shots a day, 8 if he's stressed or stayed up late, and 9 if he's trying not to murder someone he shouldn't

Guido Mista

He's tried snorting lines of espresso powder before

Mista's not really a fan of Coffee, he might drink it if it's cold weather, or if someone offers him one, but it's certainly not his go-to choice

Mocaccino or Caffè Nutellino (Married to Nutella) are his choices, and he basically comatoses afterwards. The sex pistols always come out when he orders, and steal some of his drink

Number five has nearly drowned in hot chocolate, Number 3 may or may not have something to do with that

Giorno Giovanna

caffè del nonno because he's internally an old man

He isnt a caffeine addict, but he doesn't abstain from it either. Has one in the mornings, and maybe one later on if needed when he's signing paper work or giving out orders for... less that legal things let's say

Espresso or Cappuccino, nothing fancy or weird added, and maximum 2 sugars (if any)

After becoming Don he does drink more, but never becomes reliant on it. He makes sure not to drink one after 2pm so that he can get a good sleep