#sometimes even sunshines have rainy days !!!!

[shoverse]

That fact that I'm on writer's block right now and Tumblr isn't working properly and then some random people just came up to me to ask for advice about something which is stupid considering I'm one of the worst people to ask for advice is just infuriating me today and my day is ruined sho.

please Tell me something to keep me motivated and not straight upmurder these blonde bitches. (Who are literally complementing me for my skin colour in the most racist way possible like bruh I'm indian what do you want my skin colour to be)

Also DID YOU SEE FELIX'S TATTOO I AM DISINTEGRATING INTO PIECES

MY ADVICE FOR U IS SOMETIMES U JUST NEED TO GRRAH WE GO WILD AND THATS OK 🤞😓 sometimes when you grrah we go wild there is murder involved and that is okay because ur a wolf and u cant contain these urges. just remember to grrah we go wild in moderation as some may find mass murder not especially enjoyable!!

[darlingsblackbook]

Mafia Don!Blade x Bookshop Owner!Reader | I

Mafia AU - A quick thing I wrote after being inspired by seeing this art by @deciqm

Honkai Starrail Masterlist

I | It was a rainy, quiet evening when you were about to close up your cozy, independent bookshop. The world outside was dark and glistening, your little lamp casting warm amber light across the shelves. That’s when you saw him—a man collapsing right outside your door.

II | You rushed out without thinking, your cardigan soaked immediately in the rain, your slippers squelching on the pavement. He was bleeding—badly—from his side. You didn’t recognize him, but his eyes were sharp even through the pain. There was something ancient in them. Dangerous.

III | “Are you alright?” you asked, panic in your voice. He didn’t answer—just looked at you like he couldn’t believe someone was actually speaking to him with concern.

IV | Despite the blood, the rain, the weight of him—you helped him inside. You struggled under his tall frame, but he let you drag him in like he belonged there. Like he had already claimed the space.

V | He passed out on the rug in your back room where you read on rainy days. You ran to get your first aid kit, trembling as you cut his shirt open, revealing wounds that looked like knife slices—fresh and violent.

VI | You didn’t know you were treating the most feared mafia don in the city. You just saw someone who needed help.

VII | Blade woke up a few hours later, your little bookstore still smelling like old pages, the scent of herbal tea filling the air. You had bandaged him with shaking hands, sat beside him and kept watch, eyes drooping from exhaustion but refusing to sleep.

VIII | He didn’t thank you. He stared at you. Unblinking. Memorizing. Studying your softness like it was foreign.

IX | From that moment, Blade was obsessed. He didn’t understand why someone so kind would risk themselves for a man like him. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

X | He sends a man to check your shop's security the next morning. Quietly, of course. Reinforces your locks, upgrades your alarm, and pays off the nearby businesses to keep an eye on you. You never asked. You never noticed. But he watches over you.

XI | You notice small gifts being left behind- a rare book, imported chocolates - you first mistake it for a lost item, something a customer accidentally left behind. Until, the man himself shows up again, late at night long after closing, with a huge bouquet of blood red roses in his big hands- when you ask him his name he pauses. Then answers with a simple, "Blade." Before he disappears in the night again.

XII | You’re so sunshine sweet. You never look at him weird when he starts showing up, not even when he just takes a seat in a corner and just- glares. All day. Everyday. You greet him like a friend, not a monster. You ask how he’s healing. You recommend books. You never pry.

XIII | Blade never removes his coat. He sits with his back to the wall, always watching the door, always tense. Except when you smile. Then his shoulders drop, just a little.

XIV | He learns your routine. What time you open, when you eat, when you restock. He makes sure none of his enemies come within a mile of your store. You have no idea you're under the protection of the most feared man in the city.

XV | You catch him one night staring at your lips. You blush, flustered, brushing it off—thinking maybe you imagined it. You didn’t.

XVI | When your pushy neighbour flirts with you too aggressively- again. Blade finds out. He disappears from the city within a day, him and his stuff all gone. You think he just moved. You don't really care, happy he won't bother you again.

XVII | Blade starts reading the books you recommend. He doesn’t say anything, but he always finishes them. Sometimes he quotes lines back to you. Quietly. Softly. Like a secret.

XVIII | He never tells you what he does. You suspect, eventually, that he’s part of something… darker. But you can’t bring yourself to ask. He’s never hurt you. Never even raised his voice.

XIX | One night, he bleeds again—comes to you without saying a word, leaning against the doorframe, his hand pressed to his stomach. You don't hesitate. Again, you help him. Again, you patch him up.

XX | “You’re not afraid of me,” he says for the first time, voice gravelly, gaze sharp.

“Should I be?” you whisper.

He stares. “Yes.”

All Rights Reserved © Darlingsblackbook

[riddlesrizzler]

Something, Somehow, Someday

summary: I believe they’re meant to be. characters: mechanic! mattheo. florist! reader warnings: mentions of cigarettes and drugs. i think that’s it? word count: 1.3k

𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯, 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦-𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘺, 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘳-𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

Mattheo was the kind of man your mother warned you about-reckless, a little wild around the edges, and always two seconds away from lighting a cigarette or a fuse. He’d grown up rough, hands always scraped, knuckles bruised, and eyes carrying a storm no one dared to read too long. Fixing cars was the one thing that kept him grounded, though even that was done on his terms-skipped meals, late nights, no schedules, no promises.

You were the opposite. A walking breath of spring with a ribbon in your hair and sunshine stitched into your smile. Your flower shop smelled like lavender and hope, full of color-coded arrangements and hand-labeled jars of dried petals. You liked lists, plans, knowing what came next. And yet, somehow, Mattheo was the only chaos you made room for.

You met on a Friday night. He showed up after closing, his hands dirty, looking like trouble. He wanted a bouquet-"something that doesn’t look like I tried too hard." You gave him daisies, soft and golden, and he paid in crumpled bills and a crooked smile that lingered longer than it should have.

That night, he asked if you wanted to grab a drink. Against your better judgment, you said yes.

He drove too fast, talked too little, but you laughed anyway-because when he looked at you across the table, like he was seeing something he didn’t quite understand, it felt like something had clicked into place.

You were careful, soft edges and tied laces.

He was reckless, full of static and scars.

But when he kissed you behind the wheel of his truck, your flower-scented hands on his face and his calloused fingers tangled in your dress, you started to think maybe opposites weren’t just meant to attract-maybe they were meant to collide.

And somehow, that messy, reckless night felt like the start of something real.

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘌𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘊𝘰𝘢𝘴𝘵, 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘯𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯

You learned quickly that Mattheo wasn’t built for peace.

He smoked like he was trying to disappear into the haze, always had a lighter in his pocket and a cigarette behind his ear. There were nights he didn’t sleep, just sat on the fire escape outside your apartment, staring at the city like it owed him answers he’d never get. He rarely talked about himself-grew up on the East Coast, never stayed in one place long enough to unpack anything but guilt. Communication, to him, felt like pulling teeth.

But you... you were a warm mug of chamomile on a rainy day. A quiet playlist, a deep breath. You wore soft sweaters and painted your toenails pastel colors and invited silence in like an old friend. You weren’t trying to fix him-you just left the door open.

And little by little, he started stepping through.

He stopped lighting a cigarette when you kissed his cheek. He sat with you during tea time, tried every flavor you offered, even if he joked about it. He’d roll his jeans up and help you water the flowers behind the shop, even though he never remembered their names. And when you asked him questions-real ones, the kind that scraped at the truth-he didn’t always run.

Sometimes, he answered.

You saw all of him: the good, the broken, the aching. And still, you made space.

You were a peace sign on his war-torn heart. A welcome sign on the road he thought would never lead anywhere good.

And for the first time in a long time, Mattheo felt like maybe... just maybe... he wasn’t a bad dream.

He was waking up

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘳, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱, 𝘴𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘙𝘰𝘮𝘦

Mattheo wasn’t great with words. He liked actions better-fixing things, touching you softly when he thought you weren’t looking, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh. When things got too serious, too emotional, too real, he’d shut down like the rusted hood of a car-slam the metaphorical door and drown it out with engine noise.

But you always listened anyway.

You didn’t push. You never demanded more than he could give. But somehow, you knew. You read between his silences, the way he gripped the steering wheel tighter when something was bothering him, the way he turned the music up just a little louder to keep his thoughts from spilling out. You were all open windows and gentle questions, giving him space and direction at the same time.

One Saturday, he took you to a hole-in-the-wall record shop tucked between two mechanic yards. He didn’t say why-just said, “Get in.” The truck smelled like smoke and faded leather. You climbed in anyway.

Inside, he watched you flip through dusty vinyls with reverence, like they were sacred. He bought you a scratched copy of your favorite jazz album and didn’t tell you that it was the last twenty in his wallet.

Later that night, with the record playing soft and scratchy in your apartment, he kissed you like he was afraid he’d never get to again.

He was still wild. Still a little reckless, still slipping into bed with you like he didn’t know how to stay, but desperate to try.

And you-you were like a night in Rome. Magic wrapped in moonlight, something too lovely to be real. He told himself he didn’t deserve you, but he kept showing up anyway.

Because in the quiet moments between his chaos, you made him feel like maybe he could be the kind of man who stays.

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘦 𝘶𝘱, 𝘱𝘪𝘹𝘪𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦

He never pretended to be put-together. He showed up to brunch at your place in a shirt stained with motor oil and the same boots he wore to the shop. He never knew what day it was, rarely made plans, and lived off instant noodles and whiskey more than he probably should’ve. He was a walking contradiction-charming and disheveled, fierce but fragile in ways he wouldn’t dare admit.

You, on the other hand, were composed chaos. A dream in sundresses and lipstick that matched the roses you arranged in the front window. You drank tea with your pinkie up and scheduled your days with color-coded sticky notes. You had ambition in your bones and direction in your soul. You were always reaching for the next thing, the next bloom, the next version of yourself-and yet, somehow, you made time for him.

Mattheo used to think he wasn’t going anywhere. Not really. His truck could get him from point A to point B, but he didn’t have a point C. He figured people like him didn’t need a destination-until you walked into his life like a plane ticket he never thought he could afford.

You gave him something to move toward.

You let him be messy, and still, you cleaned off a seat at your table. You didn’t try to fix him. You just saw him-under the grime and calloused hands, beneath the silence and the bad decisions-and loved him without asking him to be anything but real.

And one evening, as you sat on the hood of his truck outside your shop, your head on his shoulder and your fingers laced with his, Mattheo realized something:

He might be a piece of work, a little lost, and always a little late. But you were home. A place he could finally return to.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘺

Some days, Mattheo still wondered how you ended up with him.

You, with your gentle hands and steady heart. Him, with his restless soul and a tendency to break things he didn’t mean to. He wasn’t perfect-not even close. But you never asked him to be.

You just stayed. Every day. Every night. Quietly, patiently, like love didn’t have to be loud to be real.

He’d catch himself looking at you sometimes-your hands in the soil of your flower shop, your eyes soft in the golden light of early morning-and think, how the hell did I get this lucky?

He wasn’t sure what came next. Life was messy, unpredictable. He didn’t have a five-year plan, a vision board, or even a decent savings account.

But he had you. And that felt like enough.

Because despite everything-his chaos, your calm, the roads that should’ve never crossed-somehow, they did.

Something. Somehow. Someday.

And Mattheo believed it now. They were meant to be.

[catiuskaa]

RAINKISSED CHERRIES.

summary: by chance or luck, you and minho found each other that rainy summer evening. dirty dishes, cherries and all.

series masterlist (☆) collab with @dalamjisung !

wc: 3.1k

cw: absolute heart-wreaking fluff! short mentions of bullying, minho is a soft introverted cutie pie, the reader is a cherry enthusiast, and a slight suggestive thing on the end [as a present for all of you who thought the cherry emoji on the poll was for dirty stuff, lololol]

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

Minho was used to being alone. 

It didn’t scare him, not really. He didn’t feel fear when all that was happening around him was the silence that crowded the restaurant after a busy day as he cleaned up his kitchen. He relished the scent of lemons that lingered on him after he was done, sometimes going as far as doing the dishes by hand instead of popping them into the dishwasher, in an attempt to intensify it.

He knew most people wouldn’t understand. And quite frankly, he didn’t mind it. The kitchen was his space. No one came in during their shifts, merely speaking to him through the window that divided it from the rest of the place. He could cook without interruption, with the tranquil chatter that the clients brought merely on the background as he hummed distant tunes he couldn’t remember the lyrics to while chopping vegetables or cleaning up a fish.

So he took his time cleaning too, waiting for his ears to get used to the absence of noise and to welcome the reverberation his steps made when he walked around cleaning the counters, or when he moved the plates and cutlery and glasses, the sounds all too familiar, or sometimes new ones, like the door to the fridge that now chirped as he opened it while checking on the list next to it to see what he’d need to buy or refill.

The rain sounded shyly as it fell on the roof over him, like a gentle reminder to bring an umbrella to work. Its soothing charm made him sigh in comfort, and Minho relished in the sound of nothing at all that filled the restaurant after closing.

And when there was a sudden shaking of the backdoor, is why his heart skipped a beat. Or that’s what he liked to think at first, considering that it seemed much more normal to relate that to the unexpected sound rather than the unexpected, unknown visit.

“We’re… closed,” Minho uttered, frowning lightly, confused at the sight of you.

He was pretty sure it was late enough for you to know that the restaurant was closed —if the fact that the sign over the main door that read HAVEN wasn’t on couldn’t have been a dead giveaway already—.

But under his disoriented grin, he found you smiling. “Right. S-sorry,” you mumbled. Your hair was wet, your clothes too, which was also weird, considering summer rain showers were never intense to such an extent.

It brought the conclusion that you had probably been walking under the rain for a while.

“Did you… um.” He felt a small lump in his throat, and he cursed in his mind.

Minho knew he wasn’t cut out for customer service. That’s why his brother, Felix, like the everlasting ray of sunshine he was and had always been, was the one who managed the front while he stayed in the kitchen. The sole contact he had with clients would be when they sat on the window by the kitchen, and that was only allowed in the early mornings, which meant barely any people interacted with him aside from the casual, “coffee, black,” or “is there a newspaper I could read?” He kind of enjoyed that sort of contact. Minho didn’t even need to answer, merely nodding and following suit to what the clients demanded.

But this was different, and despite himself, he tried to push through. “You’re soaked.” He stated, a fact you didn’t dare to contradict, as foolish as that might have been, taking in the state of you. “Come in. You’ll get a cold.”

He moved on autopilot as he headed to the locker that stood in the corner of the kitchen. There was a small smile of triumph that crossed his face when he found the towels that Felix kept there for rain showers, and grabbed one.

“Take a seat… if you, um, want to.”

You blinked at him, puzzled, watching as he left the neatly folded towel over the windowsill-like counter.

Licking his lips, Minho just stared at you, doubting his every action, going as far as wondering if his breathing was too loud for the silence that crowded the restaurant, bubbling with the gentle words he had just spoken.

But then your eyes got teary, and you smiled at him like he had hung the stars in the sky for you to see. His heart did a thing at the sight of your new-formed happiness, beating a bit faster as you took the towel and messily squeezed your hair with it, sitting on the other side of the counter.

You were an unexpected visit in his space. His kitchen. His mind related that to the fact that his heart was going what his brother would call “bananas”, now timidly troubled at the sight of you.

It was a small diner in a small village. With the exception of tourists here and there, arriving in boats to enjoy the cool water to ease the warmth the Sun brought. But there were no boats that night, if Minho’s view of the sea from the kitchen was right. Still, he had no idea who you were, nor how it was that he had never seen you before.

“Do you have a charger I could borrow?” The tone of your voice was soft, almost as soothing as the silence had been before your arrival.

He nodded, handing it to you with a sheepish smile on his features, ones that matched your own.

You sighed, plopping your head down against the towel, laying on the counter, fidgeting with the stool you were sitting on, moving side to side.

“Are you not going to ask?” You mumbled softly, playing with the wet strands of hair that fell over your eyes.

Truth be told, Minho hadn’t planned to, not when he had just remembered he had to dry and hang the wine glasses over the counter.

He let out a somewhat breathless chuckle as he unloaded the glasses from the dishwasher.

“Last time I walked for hours in the rain, I wasn’t keen on people wondering why.”

Your gaze felt piercing against his face, but he pretended to be so very interested in drying the glass in his hands. Mmh, oh, yes, glass was made out of glass. Surprising.

The snicker that passed your lips felt equally sad and amused, and a small part of Minho couldn’t help but think that it sounded way better than the tinkles of the dishes.

“Guess so, yeah.”

“You do look like you have a good story to tell.” He grinned bashfully.

The tips of his ears turned pink, but he didn’t mind it when he noticed the shimmer in your eyes turning lighter, entertained by his words.

“You think so?”

He cherished the giggle you let out. Better than a bittersweet snicker. Much better. 

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

A gentle blush dusted your cheeks, and you remained silent, wondering what could be the best way to explain how you had ended up there, like a stray kitten, scratching the wooden door.

“A friend invited me over. I live nearby, I moved recently, but her house is closer to the main plaza here. You know, where the summer concerts are.” He nodded, attentively listening to your every word.

It wasn’t a place he frequented, much less when it was so crowded, but it was easy to hear the music and see the lights from his room, a recurrent scenario every summer since he could recall.

“I don’t drink. Which, to a bunch of twenty-something-year-olds, seems weird enough to comment on it every single time. Sometimes they say that I ruin the vibe, that I’m a killjoy. It’s whatever.”

Now, Minho sucked at social cues half of the time, —the other half he just wasn’t interested enough to give a flying fuck—, but even for him it was easy to say that, to you, it wasn’t just whatever.

“We went to today’s—, well, yesterday’s concert.” You snickered, but your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It was okay. They had their fair share of alcohol, I had apple juice. I can’t say I didn’t have fun.”

Minho felt his heart pout inside his chest when he saw you shrug nonchalantly. And he lied too, by omission, deciding not to comment on it.

“Then we went back to my friend's house.” Your tone had changed, and the palms of your hands pressed into your eye sockets, as if that could make the memory of a few hours ago more bearable. “And I had this necklace on. A silly thing. Gold.” You muttered, moving your hands to your jaw as you kept speaking. “Probably fake anyways.”

You gulped, as if swallowing dry. “Suddenly, the girl who invited me turned against me.” You bit your lip, chuckling a cold laugh out of your system. “Said I was only there to drive them, because I didn’t drink. But now her boyfriend had a license.” You rolled your eyes, frowning. “Like, girl, your sad excuse of a boyfriend is one shove away from an alcoholic coma. Sure. Let him drive. First one who ends up in a ditch loses.”

Hanging up yet another wine glass, Minho snickered, which got you out of your head lightly, making you smile shyly, noticing your phone had turned back on.

But instead of throwing yourself at it head first, you sighed, continuing the story.

“She said I wasn’t needed now.” Your voice felt heavy with pent-up emotions. “That the only cute thing I could bring to the group was my necklace.” Your eyes were teary again, and Minho couldn’t help but scoff, frowning.

“Sounds like a handful.” He mumbled.

“God, yeah,” you passed your hands through your hair, “but the worst was when her boyfriend, drunk as fuck, decided that if she liked my necklace, she should have it.”

His hands stopped, as if someone had pressed pause on him, and Minho promptly left the wine glass on the counter, cloth inside it. 

“He… grabbed the necklace and… and shoved me.” You recalled the motion, taking a hand to your neck, tightening it on a fist, and tensing up your body, as if you had been pushed right then and there before Minho’s eyes. 

“And, well, the thing couldn’t really hold my weight to begin with…” You scratched the back of your head, your hair still damp under your fingertips. “The clasp got loose and… I fell back to the swimming pool.”

“God, you must be freezing, then,” Minho mumbled, the shock passing through his tone, mixed with light worry. 

You dismissed it with a gentle groan and a flick of the wrist, but when he got you another towel, you were quick to settle it over your shoulders. 

“I don’t know if Lix could have left something around here…” 

But you settled your hand over his wrist, smiling. “No, please. You’ve done enough for me already. More than any of my so-called friends to begin with.”

That’s why I should keep doing more. 

It was a thought, just a random idea, something far from being a grand gesture of any kind. Still, the weight of it threatened to tint Minho’s ears a deep shade of red and take his breath away. It was then and only then that he noticed a red scratch on your neck, just a bit over your collarbone.

You could only blink, puzzled, when he didn’t move his arm away from you, but instead leaned forward, slightly over the counter, boring his eyes to your neck. 

“He did this to you?” 

Ah. You were talking. Mmh. Having a conversation, yes. He— god, he was a total stranger. Handsome, sure, whatever. Ok, maybe not exactly whatever, fine. Still. Huh? What had you been thinking?

“I, uh,” you swallowed dry, but it hadn’t been full of awkward tension. Not as much as you had expected. “What… what?” 

Breathless. It was ridiculous! How could a random, gorgeous, beautiful young man from the countryside make you so weak in such little time? It wasn’t normal to fall so easily for anyone, was it?

His eyes stared at yours, and the brown of his calmed your racing heart and fuzzy mind. 

Oh. 

“Um. You have a… t-there’s a… scratch. Red. From, um, the necklace, probably.” 

But neither of you had moved from the closeness that you had just discovered. 

“Is it, eh, bleeding?” 

Minho’s tone matched your own. A whisper, barely loud enough to be called a sound. 

“No. Just a scratch.” 

His eyes —bright and kind, yet guarded— held yours with an intensity that was both unnerving and comforting, whereas Minho felt like he was being seen, really seen, for the first time in a long while. Which was, again, bananas. One hundred per cent bananas. 

Like I said, ridiculous. Odds are that you had spent less than an hour in his space, his kitchen, and now he didn’t find himself yearning for the tranquil buzz of his ears after a loud day. Tonight, he wanted your voice, telling him a story. And he’d love to listen to anything, especially if you didn’t have that sad undertone while you spoke, because when you had giggled, it had reverberated in his space. Not his kitchen, honestly, but his chest, fluttering butterflies fighting inside of him. 

Neither of you spoke, but the silence was no longer awkward. It was filled with something else, something tender and unspoken. You licked your lips, chuckling lightly, and tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear, a delicate movement that had only seemed to draw him closer, despite the stillness of your bodies.

“I think there are bandaids here somewhere.” He grinned gently, and you watched him, almost mesmerized. “It’s better than nothing.” There was a slight doubt in his mind, but he ended up shoving it away, speaking softly. “I can’t offer you much aside from bandaids and cherries, really.  Let me.” Minho chuckled.

He had to hold back the impulse to bite his lip at your toothy grin. “You have cherries?” 

For you, yes. But instead, he merely smiled, cruising to the counter close to the window, moving the bowl closer to you. 

Plopping a cherry in your mouth, you sighed in contentment. The familiar, almost homey feeling of the explosion of sweetness in your mouth brought you back to the comfort of your own house. You picked a paper napkin from the corner of the windowsill counter, leaving the pits over it. 

“You must really like cherries.” He tongued his cheek, missing your enthusiastic nod, heading to one of the small drawers of the aisle in the kitchen, like a man on a mission, and you snickered, staring at his back as he looked around in the different drawers. But then, he paused, and his shoulders made a weird motion. “Ah, Yongbok…” 

You couldn’t help but frown at him, yet it was obvious that the giggle you let out after he turned back to face you had been totally on purpose. 

“Hello Kitty bandaids?” You relished on the light blush that dusted his cheeks pink, before sparing him. “That’s so cute.”

Minho let out a chuckle that was full of relief. “My little brother. A menace, as you can see.” 

“Mmh, I’m thoroughly terrified.” 

“You don’t say.” 

He snickered, getting out of the kitchen, standing now before you, towering over your sitting figure, even on the bar stool. 

You watched as he skilfully unwrapped the pink and colourful bandaid, lemon-scented hands tenderly pressing the sticky band over the red scratch. 

“There,” Minho mumbled. “You can keep an extra one if you’d like.”

Only in certain moments, he could remember not missing the old clock that used to tick every second, hanging over the backdoor like an impending sign that his time in the kitchen was well past midnight. And that night was not only one more to the list, but most likely its number one addition. Minho loved the feeling that came over him when he stared into your eyes, and that old wooden thing would have ruined everything. 

No old clock. Just two strangers standing in front of each other, on a late August night, inside a closed diner, waiting for something to interrupt what was too early to happen yet. 

There would be other chances, Minho was sure of it. At least a small part of him was, whereas the other debated how stupid he was because he hadn’t asked for your name yet. Nevertheless, the other part of his brain —a much, much funnier one, if you asked for this humble author’s opinion— knew there was time. 

He didn’t need an old clock in the diner, because there would be time on other rainy evenings, when you’d come back from wherever you had been in the day, the lingering scent of rain on you, and he’d melt in your arms, as if that could make the lemon scent stain on you as much as you had stained him. 

Minho would scrunch his nose. 

“You reek of cherries.” 

And you’d smile, guilty as charged, both of you fully aware that you had probably bought and finished a small box of cherries on your way to him. 

“Change that, then.” 

It would only take a playful giggle escape from your cherry-tinted lips for him to grab you in his arms and sit you down, not behind the counter like the night you two had met, and not on the edge of his bed like he had done barely a couple of months after —one could only resist a sweet sweet cherry for so long—, but on top of the recently-cleaned surface, and he’d giggle too, torn between kissing away the day off you as you both simmered in the late, rainy night, protected only by the diner’s roof, or melting in your hold, your hands, slightly cold from being outside running through his hair and scratching his scalp, letting rain, cherries and lemons lull him to sleep. 

He hadn’t seen any of this in your eyes, that first night. But Minho knew deep inside that there was no way in hell he’d let you go without you coming back the next morning.

“I should go.” You grinned, looking down sheepishly. “Thank you for tonight.”

After folding the towels —an excuse to stay just a bit more—, you both parted ways under the rain. 

Were there things left unsaid? Sure. Honestly, it’s why this author keeps adding small bits and pieces between long hyphens. Minho hadn’t told you how he was dying to see you again someday —the sooner the better, if you asked him—. 

And you had just smiled cheekily as you walked away to find your car instead of saying what you had been thinking for a while, Hello Kitty bandaid in hand —that would surely end up stuck to the wall of your room—. 

It wasn’t your name, as some of you might be thinking. You had scribbled that on another napkin when he wasn’t looking. No, it was something even better. 

See you tomorrow.

[🔺 ★ 🍒 ★ 🔺]

kats, who is craving not cherries but a late-night, lemon-scented minho for herself to cuddle to sleep.

catiuskaa, august 2024 ©

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bold and red means i couldn’t tag you! </3

PERMANENT TAGLIST! @lyramundana @stayconnecteed

[starlostseungmin]

husband!felix

✰ notes: felix is finally here !! hyunjin will be posted soon. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

seungmin , chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin（ felix ）hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Felix who proposed like this [ read here. ]

Husband Felix who is the sunshine of your rainy days, an angel sent to love and make you happy, and has the sweetest smile of all. 

Husband Felix who loves to bake your favorite pastries every weekend. You’d try to help but he keeps you out of the kitchen just to surprise you with what he made (sometimes they’re burnt) but he is a good cook anyway. 

Husband Felix whose freckles you love to trace with your fingers while he’s asleep and you’d tell him how much you love them, “They’re like constellations.” with a smile on your face. He gets shy after that. 

Husband Felix who cries every time you do movie marathons because he gets swayed easily by the plot, especially melodramas.  

Husband Felix who always wanted a golden retriever puppy and begged you to adopt one, but you told him you already have Seungmin at the dorms. 

Husband Felix who lets you win every time you play video games with him and gets loud when he loses at uno. Thanks to Chan. 

Husband Felix who gives you flowers when you go on dates because it makes him think of you and would say you are as pretty as them. 

Husband Felix whose ideal date is to have a picnic by the river or the beach so you can watch the sunset or sunrise together while holding hands. 

Husband Felix who loves taking pictures of you and showing them to you later saying how beautiful you look on each of them. 

Husband Felix who knows exactly how to flirt but is weird and funny sometimes. It never fails to make you laugh. 

Husband Felix who makes your heart flutter every time he smiles and it gets worse when he kisses your lips at random times leaving a blush on your cheeks. He loves to cuddle and is probably the clingy one in this relationship. You don’t mind anyway and you love him for that. “I was born to give hugs!!”

Husband Felix who lets you play with his hair and style it whatever you want on a boring weekend. 

Husband Felix who calls and texts you every time he gets the chance when he’s not around because he misses you so much. He would hug you tight and smother you with kisses when you surprise him while he’s on tour or after he’s been away from you for too long. 

Husband Felix who is a great drinking buddy but gets drunk easily. He always has so much to confess on how much he loves you when he’s drunk and cries while taking everything to heart. 

Husband Felix who is so annoying (lovingly) and cute at the same time that you can’t even get mad. He does it on purpose. 

Husband Felix who takes you on vacation a lot of times a year to his favorite countries, lets you use his card to make a big or small purchase and spoils you by buying you gifts or giving you something from the brands that he’s working with. “Take them or I’ll sell them online having me as a freebie,” He would say while wriggling his brows. “You can’t sell them,” “I know so take them!” 

Husband Felix who gets jealous when you spend a little too much time with his friends instead of him when you’re hanging out during their free time and sulks at the corner like a pouty duckling. 

Husband Felix who takes a day off from work and cooks for you when you get sick. He’s the type to not let you move a single muscle and asks you to stay in bedーthat he’ll do everything you ask for, except argue with him.

Husband Felix who doesn’t want to fight with you. He doesn’t like seeing you cry and most likely hides himself when he’s the one crying. He’ll apologize immediately and take you in his arms, whispering tons of I love yous. 

Husband Felix who would say encouraging words when you’re sad and would insert funny jokes just to see you smile. 

Husband Felix whose love languages are words of affirmation, acts of service, physical touch, gift-giving, and quality time. 

Husband Felix who doesn’t mind if you don’t want or want children with him because he respects you so much and always choose the things that would make you comfortable. 

Husband Felix who doesn’t just love you but is willing to give up everything in the world just to have you which he already did. 

Husband Felix whom you promised to take care of him well, never hurt him, never leave but love him and would always be right there for him. 

Husband Felix who will and always choose you.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[4ln-stay8]

Rainy hearts

>summary: Lando was late for a game session with his friends due to picking you up

>author’s notes: I hope this isn’t as bad as I think it is

>warnings: idk some assumptions, some ignoring, some fluff at the end

Lando had promised Max that he'd join their gaming session and stream with their friends that evening. They had all been looking forward to it, but he found himself running late because you, his secret girlfriend, had called him in a rush. You needed a ride from your work to your university for your evening classes.

"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late" said the brown curly haired man

Lando finally joined the stream, but Max couldn't help but ask, "Lando, where were you? We had to start without you."

Lando sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "Sorry, Max. Sunshine needed a ride to her university, and she was in a hurry. She acts like such a spoiled brat sometimes, you know? She thinks I'm her personal chauffeur and that I'll be wherever she wants whenever she wants like I don't actually have anything else to do. She has a car and a driving license yet she still bothers me."

'Sunshine' was the code name they gave you for whenever they wanted to talk about you without people snooping in their business, and it worked.

Everyone knew about 'Sunshine' but no one knew the mystery identity of 'Sunshine'. Everyone knew she was Lando's girlfriend but no one knew anything about her. No one knew your name, your age, anything, and both you and Lando loved that!

Unknown to Lando, you've been discreetly watching the stream from your class, hurt by his comment. Did he really think that you were a spoiled brat? Does he really think that you see him as your personal driver?

You didn't wanted to be seen like that. That wasn't you! You never called him to pick you up just because you didn't want to take the bus or walk to university. You only asked him to pick you up when you were in a hurry and you were running late, and that wasn't often.

You have a driving license but due to the very busy neighbourhood your work was situated in you never took your car. To find a parking space there was nearly impossible and you would have to wait a while to actually find a spot which would result in you being late for work.

When your classes ended, you decided not to call Lando for a ride as you had agreed upon. He insisted that you would call him when you were done for the day so he could pick you up. After a while you agreed to call him, but now you weren't gonna do that. Instead, you walked home, and as luck would have it, the rain started pouring down.

Back at yours and Lando's place, thunder echoed as he anxiously checked the time. Realizing that your class had ended, he started to worry. It's been nearly 40 minutes since the class ended and there was no sign from you. He checked his phone at least 5 times but there was nothing there from you.

He said goodbye to the boys as he decided to leave the stream and go outside the gaming room and call you to see where you were. As he did that he heard the front door closing. Walking towards the entrance, he was met by his drenched girlfriend.

"Why didn't you call me, Y/N? I was worried sick!" Lando exclaimed, his worry turning into relief at seeing you safe.

You, avoiding eye contact, replied, "I didn't want to bother you or act like a spoiled brat who treats you like her personal driver,"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of hurt and determination, before turning away and leaving him standing in the hallway, his heart heavy with regret.

You walked into your shared bedroom, walking to the closet to find some dry clothes as you were wet and cold. Lando followed you like a lost puppy trying to find some words.

Lando sighed, realizing the unintended consequence of his words. "Y/N, it's not like that. I do want to help."

With a bitter tone and without even looking at him you told him "I appreciate it but I don't want to make you late for gaming with the boys" you said sarcastically and walked in the bathroom to take a hot shower.

He went to the kitchen to make you some tea so you could warm up even more, and something to eat, hoping that this would also make you a little less mad at him.

Around 20 minutes later, you walked out of the shower, dressed in some of Lando's clothes. You were mad at him but you won't deny that his clothes were more comfortable and warmer than yours.

You sat ok the bed scrolling on your phone while you snuggled in the blanket trying to get more warm. On the other room Lando was warming the tea, making a plate of food for you to eat.

He put them on a tray, picked it up and walked to your shared bedroom. He knocked on the door and opened it slowly.

“I brought you something to eat and some tea to warm up a little more” he whispered

You rolled your eyes at him trying not to give in and forgive him so quickly. “Thanks” you whispered as well, standing up a little and taking the tray from his hands.

“Look baby, I’m really sorry for what I said. I swear I didn’t mean it!” He whispered, his eyes pleading for forgiveness

“Am I really a bother to you? If I am I won’t ask you to pick me up again. Be honest!” you whispered avoiding his eyes, scared of his answer

“Of course you are not a bother to me, my love! I would come pick you up from the other side of the world if I had to! I swear baby I didn’t mean it! I was just annoyed because the traffic was bad when I got back! I am really sorry! Please forgive me!” He said, regret present in his voice

“I forgive you, but please don’t do say that again” you said, hurt still lingering in your voice

Even though you didn’t wanted to give in too easily, the tone in his voice made you break. You could feel how sorry he was for what he said, and after all he was your boyfriend and you loved him, so you did gave in.

“I swear I will never say anything like this again! What can I do to make it up to you?” the british man said desperately

“Just come and cuddle me, I’m still cold from the rain” you said putting the tray away and opening your arms

“Gladly!” He whispered and jumped on his side of the bed to cuddle you for the rest of the night.

[inkspiredwriting]

Rainy Reconciliation

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The sky above was a tumult of swirling clouds, promising an imminent downpour. Five Hargreeves and his wife, Y/n, were caught in their own storm inside their cozy apartment. What started as a minor disagreement over something trivial had spiraled into a heated argument, fueled by stress and frayed nerves from the day’s challenges.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about the meeting with the Commission!” Y/n’s voice was raised, her eyes flashing with frustration.

Five, standing by the window, sighed and rubbed his temples. “I didn’t think it was necessary to worry you. I had it under control.”

“Under control?” Y/n scoffed. “Five, you always think you have everything under control, but sometimes you need to let me in! We’re a team, remember?”

Five turned to face her, his expression a mix of guilt and stubbornness. “I know we’re a team, Y/n. But some things are complicated. I didn’t want to burden you.”

Y/n crossed her arms, shaking her head. “It’s not about burdening me. It’s about sharing our lives, our struggles. I want to be there for you, even if it’s messy.”

The argument continued to escalate, their voices mingling with the distant rumble of thunder outside. The intensity of their emotions was palpable, each trying to make the other understand their perspective.

As their argument reached a crescendo, the first fat raindrops began to splatter against the window. Five glanced outside, noticing the rain starting to fall in earnest. Y/n, too, seemed to notice, her anger momentarily diffused by the sudden change in weather.

Without another word, she turned and opened the front door, stepping out into the rain. Five watched, momentarily stunned, as she walked into the downpour, her figure silhouetted against the gray sky.

Concerned and unwilling to let her go, Five grabbed his coat and followed her outside. The rain was cold and relentless, soaking them both within moments.

“Y/n, wait!” Five called, jogging to catch up with her. His voice softened as he reached her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Y/n stopped and turned to face him, rain streaming down her cheeks like tears. “I know you didn’t. I just... I want to be part of your life, all of it. Even the hard parts.”

Five stepped closer, his own frustrations melting away in the rain. “You’re right. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, they stood there in the rain, both drenched and shivering but feeling the tension between them dissolve. Five reached out, gently brushing a wet strand of hair from Y/n’s face.

“I love you,” he said softly, his eyes full of sincerity. “I don’t want to fight. I want us to be okay.”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, tender smile. “I love you too. And we will be okay.”

A mischievous glint appeared in Five’s eyes as he extended his hand to Y/n. “Dance with me?”

Y/n blinked in surprise but then laughed, a sound that was like sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. “Here? In the rain?”

“Why not?” Five grinned, taking her hand and pulling her close.

With a shrug, Y/n let herself be drawn into his embrace. The rain continued to fall around them, creating a shimmering curtain that enclosed their private world. Five wrapped one arm around her waist and took her hand in his, guiding her into a slow, unsteady waltz.

They moved together, their laughter mingling with the sound of the rain. Five twirled Y/n under his arm, both of them stumbling slightly on the wet pavement but not caring in the least. The argument was forgotten, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Y/n teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they swayed together.

Five chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers. “I know. But you make me want to be better.”

Y/n’s heart swelled with affection, and she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat through his soaked shirt. They continued to dance, the rain washing away the remnants of their argument and leaving only the pure, undeniable love they had for each other.

Eventually, the rain began to let up, and they were left standing in the gentle drizzle, both soaked but happier than they had been in a long time. Five kissed Y/n’s forehead, his lips warm against her cool skin.

“Let’s go inside,” he murmured. “We should probably dry off before we catch a cold.”

Y/n nodded, but as they walked back to their apartment, she squeezed his hand, a silent promise of understanding and forgiveness. They would still have their disagreements and arguments, but moments like this reminded them of what truly mattered.

Inside, they toweled off and changed into dry clothes, sharing quiet smiles and soft touches. As they settled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket together, Five turned to Y/n, his eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “For everything. For being patient with me.”

Y/n leaned her head on his shoulder, her heart full of warmth. “Always, Five. Always.”

They fell asleep that night, curled up together, knowing that whatever storms they faced, they would face them together. And sometimes, just sometimes, those storms would lead to dancing in the rain.

[steddieas-shegoes]

as the poets say

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'poetic justice'

rated t | 826 words | no cw | tags: alternate meetings, bartender eddie, open mic night, poetry, corroded exists without eddie...until now

also on ao3

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

It’s open mic night at the bar and usually that means a lot of drunk karaoke and the occasional duo or small group who actually seem like they know what they’re doing with the provided instruments. Eddie stands behind the bar waiting for his favorite singer, Jeff, to show up.

He comes almost every week, apparently requests off of work for it. He’s been looking for a band to be a part of, but so far no luck. Jeff may be the end of his search if he plays his cards right.

Jeff never has anyone else on stage with him, but one of the regulars mentioned seeing him perform with a drummer and bassist at another bar a while ago. Maybe he does this for fun, but has a real band. Maybe that band needs another guitarist.

He wipes down the counter again. There’s nothing on it. He’s just impatient.

Finally, after a loud and off-key rendition of Livin’ On A Prayer by two women who are officially getting cut off, Jeff takes the stage.

He has no guitar.

Eddie waits to see where this is going.

“Hi everyone. Nice to see you,” Jeff’s a fan favorite, smiling at the small crowd clapping in front of him. “Normally, I’m up here singing. I like to test covers for my band.”

Ah, so the regular was right. He does have a band. Maybe even a good one if he uses this place to test shit out.

“I write a lot of our own songs, but sometimes those songs end up being more poetic. Hope it’s okay that I read one to you tonight before I sing,” Jeff looks nervous now. Eddie’s jaw drops as he leans forward, bracing himself on the bar. “It’s about loving someone who will never see you as more than a friend.”

Eddie listens as he reads, gets lost in the imagery Jeff is painting. His words flow smoothly, much like his voice when he sings. It’s hypnotic almost, the way he goes from lamenting about sunshine and starry nights to rainy days with no umbrella. A lot of cliches, a lot of bittersweet heartbreak.

If anyone other than Jeff were reciting it, Eddie would’ve tuned out by the third line.

But his voice is weaving a tale and no one, especially not Eddie, can look away.

When he’s done, the room erupts into shocking applause. Even Allen at the end of the bar who doesn’t think bars should even have open mic nights gives a half-hearted clap.

Jeff thanks everyone, rushes to the edge of the stage, and swings his guitar over his shoulder.

He starts to sing Queen, his voice borderline too low to pull it off. Eddie likes it.

He pours another round of shots for the group of teachers in the corner who definitely have classes to teach in the morning, but don’t seem to give a shit. If they don’t, he won’t.

Only a few people go after Jeff– it’s hard to follow him– and then Eddie’s closing out tabs and trying to clean as much as he can. There’s a few people who linger, but most of them are awkwardly standing by the door waiting for the bouncer to kick them out.

“Any chance I could grab a shot before I head out?” Eddie looks up to see Jeff standing across the counter, shy smile on his face.

“Hm…I suppose for our best performer I could allow it.” Eddie grabs a shot glass from the rack. “What’s your preference?”

“Whatever’s easiest,” Jeff shrugs as he sits at a stool. “Just no vodka.”

“Tequila it is!” Eddie grabs another shot glass to do one with him. No one does shots alone at his bar. “Really enjoyed your poem tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Jeff takes the shot off the counter, taps it against Eddie’s, and throws it back. “Kinda had to get it off my chest somewhere and I definitely couldn’t have done it around Frankie.”

“Frankie the guy it’s about?” Eddie asks after he downs his own shot.

“He’s the bassist in my band,” Jeff explains without outright answering his question. “Best friend since we joined band in middle school together. Straight as an arrow.”

“Tough luck, man. Been there.”

“Anyway, the band’s currently on a little break while we try to find another guitarist, so I guess I’ve just been in my head too much,” Jeff taps the counter and stands. He reaches in his pocket to pull out a few bucks and leaves them on the counter.

Eddie glances at the cash and back up at Jeff.

“You know, I play guitar.”

Jeff pauses. “You play it well?”

“I think so,” Eddie snorts. “I was in a band in high school. They all went to college, I didn’t get in. Only reason we aren’t on a headlining tour right now.”

“You free tomorrow?” Jeff asks, smirking back at Eddie knowingly.

“I can be.”

[pascalispunkczechia]

So this is You

Summary: You weren’t expecting much from that run through the park. Definitely not the kind-eyed stranger you nearly knocked over, or the quiet way something shifted when he smiled at you. Lunch leads to laughter. A walk leads to something warmer. Sometimes, the right person doesn’t scare you off. Sometimes, they show you you’ve never been too much at all.

Warnings: fluff, strangers to lovers, surprise pregnancy, emotional vulnerability, soft kisses, established relationship, emotional intimacy, hopeful ending, reader POV, mutual pining but also mutual trying, canon-divergent (The Mentalist), accidental meeting, slow build

Word count: ~ 3.5k

It was a warm May afternoon. After a few rainy days, the sun finally came out over D.C.

You grabbed your running gear - a sports top and tight leggings - and pulled your hair up into a messy bun. Eh, good enough.

You headed out and started at a slower pace, jogging straight toward the park in front of the Washington Monument. It wasn’t too crowded today, not many tourists around, which was a win. You picked up the pace a little, running past the pond, trying to soak in the sunshine tickling your face.

This was your favorite time of year in D.C. You’d lived here for over five years now, had a solid job, and the only thing missing, sometimes, was someone to come home to. You shook that thought off quickly and kept going.

A few minutes later, you felt your watch buzz lightly on your wrist. You glanced down just for a second to check if it was anything important… and slammed, full speed, into something. Someone!

You stumbled, nearly going down, but a pair of strong arms caught you just in time. “Hey, hey, you okay?” The voice was warm, gentle. The hands holding you steady didn’t let go right away, just in case.

Still a little dazed, you looked up and locked eyes with a man in his forties, a full head taller than you. First thing you noticed: his eyes. Soft brown, kind, and at the moment, a little concerned.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you,” you stammered, and the man slowly let go. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I totally ran into you.”

“It’s alright, really. I probably shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the running path,” he said, smiling as he shrugged.

“Well… it’s not exactly a running path,” you replied with a quick grin, glancing him over, not meaning to stare, but… yeah. You probably just crashed into the most handsome man in all of D.C. His short brown hair was half-styled, half-messed-up by the breeze. A mustache, light stubble, and… wait! Dimples?! He was wearing a grayish-brown blazer, a red tie, and a white shirt.

“Well, maybe not,” he chuckled, “but I’ve lived here long enough to notice most people around here run.” You caught him giving you a subtle once-over too, but not in a gross way. Not even flirty, really. Just… interested. Warm.

“How long?” you asked, possibly too blunt.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“I meant - how long have you been living here?”

“Oh,” he laughed, a little sheepishly. “Four months. I moved here from Sacramento. Work stuff…” He trailed off, like something had just come to mind but he pushed it away before it could stick.

“From California, huh? That’s a pretty big move. How are you handling the weather here?” Seriously, did you just ask him about the weather?!

He didn’t seem to mind. He smiled again. “Better than I expected, honestly. Especially when it’s as nice as today.”

That’s when it hit you - You were casually chatting with a complete stranger you literally knocked over, asking him about his life, and neither of you even knew the other’s name.

“Yeah… weather’s perfect today,” you said quickly. “Anyway, nice to meet you.” You offered your hand and told him your name.

He took it in his, firm and warm. “I’m Marcus. Nice to meet you too.”

Marcus. Nice name. And yeah, it really suited him.

As you keep walking side by side around the pond, mid-conversation, you learn that he works for the FBI, as an agent in the Art Crime Team. That catches your attention. Not because you’ve never heard of it, but because they sometimes collaborate with museums, and you happen to work at one, right here in D.C., as a security consultant. Which is… kind of a hilarious coincidence.

“Wow,” Marcus says with a curious, amused look when you tell him. “What are the odds? Crashing into each other like that in D.C. Of all people, in a park. Instead of… you know, at a crime scene.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Not that I wouldn’t wanna see you again outside of, well… today…” And that’s when it hits you what you’ve just said. You instantly go quiet. And red. Great. You might as well have invited him straight to your bed, Jesus Christ!

Marcus definitely catches the blush, just like he clearly caught what you said (unfortunately). But he doesn’t seem to mind. “Actually… I was kind of hoping for something like that,” he says, smiling softly.

And yep, your knees go a little weak. Damn it.

“I’d like to see you again too. Outside of any, uh, potential professional obligations,” he adds carefully, watching your face, like he’s expecting you to pull away or say no.

“Okay. Um… there’s this place I really like. Nothing fancy, just cozy. Maybe we could… go sometime? For lunch?” It comes out quiet. Shy. But hopeful.

“I’d love that,” Marcus replies immediately.

“Cool, so… do you have your phone on you?”

Marcus starts patting down his pockets, a little awkwardly, like a high schooler before his first date. Eventually, he pulls out his iPhone, unlocks it, and hands it to you, a slightly nervous look in his eyes.

You take it, type your number in, and hand it back. “There. So we can make plans… if you want,” you say with a little smile.

He stares at the number on the screen for a moment, then looks up at you. “Thank you,” he manages to say.

Right then, your watch buzzes again - it’s time to head back home. You’re working remotely today. “Crap, I have to go. Again. Literally run. Again.” Okay, stop talking! Just… leave before you dig yourself deeper.

“Right. Um… yeah, it was really nice meeting you and… thanks again for the number,” he says, holding his phone a little tighter than necessary, like he’s afraid it might disappear.

You lean in for a quick hug, something you always do when saying goodbye. With friends. With most people, really. “Nice meeting you too,” you tell him softly, then turn and jog off. You leave him standing there, clearly caught off guard.

And even though you’re smiling to yourself, there’s a little knot of doubt in your stomach. Did you go too far? Was it too much? Because… you do want to see him again. And he has your number… but you don’t have his.

And now you just really hope he calls. Or texts. Or… something. You don’t even know why. But you really, really do.

Later that day:

Work went by pretty fast, you barely had time to think, let alone check your phone. So when night falls, and you finally close your laptop and start prepping dinner, the buzz of your phone on the table doesn’t immediately make you think of Marcus. You wipe your wet hands on a towel and unlock the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It was really nice meeting you today. Would love to continue that conversation. M.

Your stomach flips - the good kind. M. It has to be Marcus! You save his number immediately. You stare at the message for a second, thinking. Trying to figure out what to say. Most of your past attempts at dating… crashed and burned, mostly because you always moved too fast. Not everyone wants to talk about the future on the third date.

And Marcus? You don’t know him. You have no idea if he’s the same. But for once, you don’t want to mess this up. So you dial it back a little. Your fingers hover over the screen, and then finally, you start typing.The message whooshes off. No pressure. Just simple.

YOU: It was really nice meeting you too. Always good to come across someone kind.

MARCUS: I’m really glad you feel the same. I don’t know many people in the city yet, so if that lunch offer is still valid… I’d love to take you up on it.

Your stomach does another happy little flip. Honestly? You’re relieved you didn’t have to be the one to bring it up. You answer right away. Maybe a little too fast.

YOU: Sounds great. When works for you?

MARCUS: How about the day after tomorrow? Saturday, I’ve got the whole day free.

You agree. You pick a time. And the second it’s settled, you call your favorite restaurant and make a reservation. Just in case. You can’t wait. You don’t really know why you’re this excited. You try not to read too much into it but maybe… maybe he really did get under your skin just that fast.

Two days later:

You’re standing in front of the mirror, debating what to wear. Your closet is packed to bursting, yet somehow, it still feels like you have nothing to wear. But you really should get moving. You and Marcus had agreed to meet right outside the restaurant. You throw on a light spring dress, it’s warm out again, some sandals, and a small shoulder bag. Your hair’s up in a loose but pretty bun, nothing too polished, just soft and casual.

By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re about ten minutes late. Marcus is already there. He doesn’t look annoyed or impatient. In fact, his face breaks into a wide smile the second he spots you walking up.

“Hey, sorry… I tried to leave on time, I swear. But that’s just… me,” you blurt out quickly, half apologizing.

“Hey,” he says, still smiling. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I’m… kind of used to waiting.”

God, he looks so good. He’s wearing a light olive-green shirt, unbuttoned just enough at the collar, sleeves casually rolled up, exposing those forearms and veins, jesus! Dark pants, a lightweight blazer folded over one arm. And those damn watches. You have no idea where to look. His hair is a little messy again, like he tried to fix it but the wind had the final say. It’s… hot. So hot.

“You look great,” Marcus says. “I mean, really great.” You catch the faint blush rising in his cheeks.

“Thank you! You too,” you reply, and your stomach does a full somersault.

He steps in first, like a proper gentleman, then holds the door for you.

Over lunch, you talk about all kinds of things. You tell him more about your work, he shares more about his. You both have a love for art, so you end up talking about paintings for a while.

As time passes, the conversation starts to loosen up. You can’t resist teasing him a little. “Okay, rapid-fire questions,” you grin. “Cats or dogs?”

He looks a little caught off guard at first, then laughs. “Dogs. I’m actually allergic to cats.”

You keep going. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee. Always coffee.”

“Morning or night?”

“More of a night person. It’s quieter. But… depends who I’m with, and where. With the right person, doesn’t really matter if it’s morning or night.”

You both look at each other. Longer than before. That kind of look where the air between you shifts. Marcus seems like he’s wondering if he said too much. But before you can respond, he continues: “I haven’t had a lunch like this in… years. This relaxed. This fun. So… thanks.”

Your heart does a little leap. You’ve had plenty of lunches and dinners with friends, sure… but this… this feels different. “Thank you, I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and…”

Before you can finish, Marcus jumps in, suddenly looking like a shy teenager: “Maybe we could do this more often? I mean… lunch. Or… go to a movie. Or run in the park. Or… whatever.”

“Run in the park? You don’t look like someone who runs. I mean, not in a bad way. You look great, I just…” You stop. Did you just tell him he looks great?! And did he just kinda… ask you out again?!

Marcus clearly caught all of it. His dimples deepen as he laughs. “No, you’re right. I’m definitely not the running type. But with you, I feel like it could be fun. And - no offense - but someone should keep an eye on you, so you don’t crash into innocent bystanders.”

You laugh out loud. “Oh, come on! What if I ran into you on purpose?”

“On purpose… like you were planning to invite me to an ‘apology lunch’ afterward?”

“Do I look like someone who crashes into random strangers just to ask them out?” You say it playfully, but with a smile that lingers.

Marcus looks at you. “Ask them out? So this is a date?”

You hesitate. You promised yourself you wouldn’t rush anything but everything about Marcus just flows so naturally. “Maybe? And even if it’s not… I’d like it to be,” you admit quietly, your eyes dropping to your plate.

Then… you feel the softest touch. His hand, gently resting over yours. Just barely. It makes you look up. He’s smiling. Genuinely. No panic. No I’m gonna ghost you after this look. “I’d like it to be a date too,” he says softly.

You smile back at him. And he smiles right back.

Your plates are empty, but you’re not ready to call it a night yet. “It’s still nice out,” you say, half smiling. “Feels like a waste to go straight home. There’s this little park not far from here with a pop-up gallery, local artists showing some of their work.”

Marcus lights up at the mention of paintings. Of course he does. You knew he would. “Absolutely. I’d love that.”

You both leave the restaurant and head toward the park. The conversation picks right back up, flowing effortlessly. It’s honestly kind of a miracle… you’ve got so much in common, and yet here you are, in a huge city, and somehow you bumped into each other. Literally.

When you arrive at the open space where a few artists have their work displayed on easels, Marcus is clearly in his element. And it gets to you a little, how passionate he is when it comes to art. He chats with the artists, asks them questions. They’re thrilled, because Marcus isn’t just another passerby, he’s someone who actually sees their work.

The day starts to wind down. Dusk settles in, the light softens, and Marcus walks you home. “I’m not letting you walk alone,” he says simply.

“I’ve lived here for years. I walk alone at night all the time,” you tease, but in truth… you’re grateful.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you,” he says, and your heart aches in the best way. You’re in deep. God help you.

After a little silence, Marcus speaks again. “You know, I told you I moved here for a job and that’s true. But it also came at the right time. Because I needed to leave something behind…” He tells you about a woman he cared for. About how she chose someone else. And the way he shares it - it feels raw, but calm. Like he’s been carrying this for a while.

And you realize: he’s struggling with the same thing you are. That thing where you care too much too fast. And somehow… it doesn’t scare you. It actually feels like fate.

When he trails off, you gather every ounce of courage you have (which, at this point, is quite a bit). You stop walking. Turn to face him. Take his hands in yours. He squeezes your fingers instantly. It’s warm. Steady.

“Marcus… thank you. For telling me that,” you say softly. “See, I actually get it. Not her. But you. I’m the same way. That’s why I haven’t been in a relationship for years… because I tend to scare people off. When I say on the third date that someday I want marriage. And kids.” You look him in the eye, and you swear they soften in real time, like your words cracked something open in him. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we met,” you continue. “I’m actually really grateful. And if you’re not against it, I’d really like a second date. And a third. And maybe a thousand more. Because for the first time, I feel like I found someone who isn’t scared of me. And more than that… you don’t scare me either.”

Marcus brings your hands up, covering them with his. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he steps closer and presses his lips to yours. Softly. Like he’s asking permission.

You let him know it’s okay, with the way your lips part gently against his.

You kiss. Slow, delicate, warm.

When you finally pull away, he lets out a breath. “Sorry,” he says, adorably flustered. “I kind of got carried away. But… after what I told you, and what you said, and… you just look so beautiful, and I…”

“I’m glad you got carried away,” you cut him off, smiling. “Because if you hadn’t, I was about to.”

For a moment, the entire park disappears. It’s just the two of you, standing in that twilight stillness, holding each other’s hands like you’ve done it forever.

That night, when you finally crawl into bed, you’re not the same person who woke up that morning. You’re in love. With the most gorgeous man in D.C. A man who just showed you that maybe you’re not too much. Maybe you just know what you want. And so does he.

And that? That’s rare.

Epilog, six months later:

You’re sitting on the edge of your bathtub, phone in hand, watching the timer count down. You’re nervous. Like, really nervous! Probably more than you’ve ever been in your life.

When the timer finally goes off, you’re sure those were the longest three minutes ever. Your fingers wrap around the little white plastic stick that might change everything. You close your eyes, turn it over, then look.

Shit. Two lines.

So that’s what the nausea’s been about.

Your hands are shaking a little as you scroll through your contacts and tap Marcus’s name. You need to tell him to come over. He would’ve anyway, but today he said he might stop by his place first. You’re in that in-between stage right now, splitting time between your apartments while working with a realtor to find your own place. And honestly? It’s been great. You’re more in love with him every day. You know he feels the same.

But… a baby? Six months in? You don’t know what he’s going to say. You don’t even know what you feel yet.

It clicks in your head… you remember when it probably happened. That one night you threw up after some bad dressing. You got a shot at the doctor’s office to help with the nausea, and it did say in the leaflet it might mess with your birth control. You just… didn’t think it would actually happen.

And now here you are. Staring at two lines.

Marcus picks up on the second ring. “Hey, babe. Everything okay?”

“Um… maybe. Could you come straight here after work? I kinda need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, of course.” A beat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” You try to sound casual. Chill. You’re failing.

“I’ll head over soon as I can. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks a little, but you hang up before it fully gives out. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink fast and shake them away.

He shows up about an hour later.

“You’re early,” you say. “I thought you had work until five.”

He wraps his arms around you without saying a word. “I could hear it in your voice,” he murmurs into your hair. “Took a half day. Wanted to be here.”

You exhale against his chest and lean in closer. You’re so grateful he’s like this. That he just knows. Even if… what you’re about to tell him? Might actually be okay.

“What’s going on, babe?” he asks gently.

You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Okay, so… this isn’t great timing. I know that. And I’m kind of freaking out. But…” You take his hand and place it on your stomach, still completely flat.

He frowns a little. Then his face shifts. Eyes widen. “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I took a test this morning,” you say quietly. “The doctor still has to confirm it, but… yeah. That would explain the nausea and…” You trail off, your voice catching. “I’m sorry. I know we’re in the middle of buying a place and it’s just… not ideal and…” You don’t get to finish.

Marcus cups your face with both hands and kisses you. When he pulls away, he’s smiling. Really smiling. And his eyes are soft in a way you haven’t seen before. “I don’t care about timing,” he says. “This matters. You matter. We’re going to be a family. I’m gonna be a dad? And you… you’re gonna be a mom. The best one. I already know that.” He laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. Pulls you into him and spins you once, just enough to make you laugh too.

Now you’re both laughing. And crying.

And he’s holding you so tight you can barely breathe, but you don’t want him to let go.

You feel his excitement, his warmth, his love. And you know - same way he does - this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

This is just a one-shot, there won’t be a continuation. I just wanted to give Marcus something soft and beautiful 🤎 because Marcus deserved better! 🥺❤️‍🩹

FOR MORE FICS -> MASTERLIST

[relly-writes]

Chico Del Apartamento 512

a Kang Dae Ho x Hispanic!Reader love story…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Chapter One ❀ Spring

“Si mamá, ya estoy en camino al mandado. Luego te llamo en la tarde cuando termino con todo.” You smile at your mother’s quick remark and begin to end the call.

“Bye, love you.” After hanging up, you focus back at your reflection in the mirror in your bathroom.

You were getting ready to head out to your grocery store nearby for a few items that your mother needed. Ever since you’ve moved out of the house a few years ago, your mother hasn’t stopped calling you.

Asking about your neighbors, your work concerns, even wanting to know your meals to ensure your health. You know she means well, and you’ve definitely have been patient with her, but you wished she entrusted you with living with yourself.

You live at an apartment complex in another city, still a drive away from your parents’ home. Near the building, there was a grocery store and mall that contained most stores you enjoyed.

You were content with the apartment and everything around it, so it was no surprise that you moved in there only a month after viewing it in person.

The grocery store nearby was El Rancho, a well-known Hispanic grocery store that you would always go with your mother. Since your mother knew the store was near your new place, she would send you to pick up a few items for her when she couldn’t.

So right now, you are applying a small amount of makeup before heading out for the day. It was still early morning and it just so happens to be your day off work. You had on a pair of jeans with a t-shirt, something simple for the day.

“Let me get my list and I’ll be ready to go,” you leave the bathroom and head for the kitchen, “if I can even find it.” You prepared a list of your groceries, including the items your mother needed herself.

A list has always managed to be your best method to remember what you need to pick up at the store. After finding it under a stack of papers inside a drawer, you grab your bag and head out the door.

Light wind and bright light greeted you as you walked out your place and locked the door. Spring was always your favorite season, and it was nice to have a mix of sunshine and wind. Last week was filled with rainy days, yet you’re glad it made way for the sun to shine today.

Your apartment is in the fifth floor, room number 510. The hallway upstairs displayed a view of the green trees, the swimming pool, and even the outside lobby centered in the middle of the whole building. You make your way across the hall, entering the elevator headed to the main floor.

Even the elevator itself was made of glass, sharing a glimpse of outside as well. You took this opportunity to take a picture of it and posted it on your socials.

Exiting the elevator, you are met with one of your friends outside her room. Kim Jun-hee, a young girl you met when first moving in. As far as you know, she’s been independent for a long time and befriends only a few people.

She stands in front of her place and opens the door when she glances your way. Her face now forms a smile at your appearance as you walk up to her.

“Hey Jun-hee, are you coming back from somewhere?” Despite having last spoken to her a few weeks ago, you know that she tends to have a few medical appointments in the early morning.

“Just getting back from my usual appointments, needed to look out for her,” she glances down at her growing stomach, “The doctors are saying I’m healthy and everything is fine.” You lower your gaze to where she has her hand over her stomach and smile her way.

There’s a small moment of silence before breaking it as you respond. “If you ever need anything, you know where I live. I’m going out right now, but let’s hang out sometime, ok?” Jun-hee eagerly nods her head in agreement and heads inside her place while you continue to leave the building.

‘I hope she’s better this time around…’

Since it was during the week, the grocery store wasn’t as packed as you had originally thought. You grabbed a cart and made your way inside to gather everything from your list. However, you didn’t get too far inside before you heard the elote man yell out to you.

“Que onda y/n! No quieres un elote, unos nachos, que se te antoja?” You walk up to the elote man, whose name you figured out was Andrez, and the smell of everything was very savory.

Truth be told, you didn’t eat much before leaving the house, and the food seemed too good to not get.

“Ahorita no gracias, pero mejor compro algo cuando termino con el mandado.” He gestures a thumbs up and tries catching the attention of other passersby. You let him be and continued your route to the aisles inside.

‘First thing, vegetables and fruits,’ you thought as you pulled up to the produce department. You grabbed the bags they have around and filled them with apples, oranges, chili peppers, and more.

At your mother’s place, you plan to cook a meal for her and catch up with one another for the day. It was a suggestion from your mother before you fully moved away, wanting to bond together. You didn’t mind it much before, but now it’s one of the most exciting moment you look forward to each week.

This week, it’s chile rellenos with rice and beans. So far, you’ve gotten the chili peppers, now to get the missing seasonings and rice grains since your mother was running out of some.

Looking up at the aisle number, you read the items they contain to quickly find the next thing on your list. It’s personally a great system for you since you wouldn’t want to waste time on an aisle that contains nothing you need. Along with that, you can go in order from one side of the store to the other.

“Aisle 4, canned food…ok this one has beans.” You head into the aisle and check out the different beans they have. Although they have canned beans, you prefer the bagged ones. Along with bagged beans, you pick up the bagged rice near it as well.

“Ok, ya por fin me puedo ir…” You headed to the register when you came across the carnicería, which is the meat section. Giving it some thought, you remembered that next week will be a carne asada for a small party at her place. You make your way through the crowd in front of the displays and grab your ticket. “Ahora hay que esperar,” you mumbled to yourself.

After what seemed like 30 minutes, they finally got to your number. “Si, me puede dar un kilo de arrachera? Sería todo, gracias.” They quickly bagged the meat and passed it to you.

You reached the registers and bought everything you originally needed from your list and will be using for today. Your cart was halfway full, a stronger push to take it outside and to your car. But you still didn’t forget what you mentioned to Andrez.

“Hola de nuevo Andrez, es tarde para comprar algo?”

“Ya llegue, mamá. Donde anda?” You place the last bags in the kitchen and close the door behind you. Your mother still didn’t appear, so you waited patiently and ate the last of your elote in the kitchen table. ‘Damn, he can really make a good cup…”

Your mother finally came into the kitchen as you soaked the beans and heated the chili peppers. “Y/n, is that you?” Your mother’s voice is heard and greets you. You walk up to her eagerly and embrace her with a kiss and hug. “Mamá, donde estaba? La estaba esperando.”

She takes a seat before speaking. “I was in the bathroom, I just finished chatting with Sonia. You remember her, right?” You nodded and asked, “Y como se la pasó? Todavia no le dice la vecina que le paso a su sobrino?”

Your mother was keen on also speaking with her friends, and god knows what these ladies chat about. Whatever they happen to talk about, your mother relaid all the details to you afterwards. In some cases, you do feel as though she should keep it to herself, yet some gossip is too good to deny. Besides, it sets the mood for a good conversation with her from time to time.

“Pues, yo le pregunté sobre eso, aver como está desde la última vez que hablamos. Y adivina que?” You looked back at her and nodded your head, “Que tiene en fin?”

“Le engañó a su mujer con otra.”

You gasp and questioned her for more, “Pero si están casados, como es posible?” She smiled at your response and added even more to the original statement.

“Dejo a la otra señora embarazada.”

You couldn’t take it, you needed to know more. “Ay no, pero cuéntame todo.”

“Bueno, me dijo que el ya le estaba prestando menos dinero a su mujer para la casa, y eso se le apareció bien extraño…”

After finishing her story, you can hear her chair scrape the floor and her footsteps making their way to you. “Here, let me help you mija.” She makes a move to flip the peppers, yet you reluctantly allowed her this time. “Amá, yo puedo hacerlo, usted se puede esperar mientras hago todo la comida.”

By now, you’ve started the rice and heated the beans to cook as well. Your mother stayed by your side as you cooked and helped little by little. The quiet moment was over when your mother spoke up, “Y cuando te vas a encontrar una pareja? Ya me cansé de esperar para que tengas nietos.”

You truly loved your mother, yet you couldn’t keep on avoiding her questions regarding your love life. It’s not as though you haven’t given it some thought, yet you didn’t want it to be your only concern at the moment. You’ve just managed to move out, and that’s a huge milestone in your life.

With a sigh, you mumble an avoiding response, “You already know how I feel about that mamá, it’ll happen when it does, no se me preocupe.” While it was enough at the moment, you know she’ll bring it up again, perhaps even before next week.

She eyed you as you continued cooking, the food ready to be served now. “Ok, let me set the table, usted se puede sentar y yo le sirvo.” You grabbed the plates and silverware while she slowly made her way to the table. “You win this time, pero mejor hablamos de otra cosa.”

“Ok, mamá, pero ahorita vamos a comer y luego hablamos mas.” Table set, you place a full plate in front of your mother and made your own plate before sitting down next to her. “Oh, what would you want to drink?” You get back up and fill up two cups with each your desired drinks.

Your mother begins eating, pleased with her meal. She continued her previous conversation about her neighbor as you asked about it and even added your own input on the situation. Before ending the gossip session, she mentioned one last detail about her family.

“Sabes, la hija menor de mi prima se va casar, apenas le pidió matrimonio su novio la semana pasada.” You took your mother’s plate and yours to the sink. “Well, congratulations to them. Ya están hablando de la boda?”

She nods and continues, “Si, aunque no saben el día en que lo quieren hacer. Y también te digo esto porque ellos ya me dijieron que quieren que nosotras vamos a la boda.” You nod as you washed the dishes and place them on the rack beside the sink. “Yeah, we can go, solo me avisas cuando será la boda.”

In the kitchen you put up all the food in containers for your mother to heat up when she gets hungry later, but not before fixing yourself a plate to take home. “Y ese plato?,” your mother asks.

“Es para yo, ya luego me lo como o si no para mañana.” Your mother nods at your response and gets up from her seat. “Drive safely, no quiero que algo te pasa.” You could only playfully shake your head at her words. “Nada, me va pasar, siempre tengo cuidado.”

Before exiting her place, you hug and kiss her once more. “See you next week, I love you.”

You exit her place and get everything ready to leave the driveway. You wave goodbye to your mother as she watches you through the window.

‘Let’s go home…’

a/n: I really do wish to continue using Spanish, however I wonder if you readers would love to have a translation at the end of every chapter. It would be no trouble, and I want to make it a good experience for you all. Please do let me know!

dividers by @dollywons

[solarpunkani]

My Plans for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week 5

I'm so excited for SAesW 5!! I have plans, some more tenuous than others, so let's go over them together!

Crochet! I have a blanket I was working on, I'm not sure if I'll end up finishing that one, but I did also save a pattern for a bag I might start instead! I didn't get a lot of work shifts so I might even be able to finish a project this week??? Crazy

Speaking of crochet, I gave that sunflower bag I made a year back to a friend so they can hopefully sew a lining for it! Then I'll be able to wear it places without worrying about it stretching and stuff falling out of it!

Embroidery?! I got some embroidery floss for really cheap, and I still have some kits I've never finished, so if I feel courageous I might try and learn a new skill! I'd love to someday be able to add embroidery to my vest!

I have some peppers that are starting to ready that I might offer to some friends! I think right now its about 4 habaneros and maybe a small bellpepper? Unfortunately no mega load of tomatoes and peppers this year (YET) but I can still treat my friends to some morsels!

Collect seeds from my pollinator garden! Me and a friend are lowkey starting to collect seeds from our plants to make our own custom native plant mixes to our area--I've got some sunshine mimosa pods that should be ready within the week, and some leavensworth coreopsis seeds that I think are ready if I can go collect on a not-rainy day sometime soon!

While I'm out there I might weed my garden, the white beggarticks are going crazymode and I need to clean things up before they take over entirely

Speaking of gardening! On the 21st there's a big plant sale a few hours away from me that I'm gonna go to--hopefully I'll get there in time to swipe up some of the sandhill milkweed seedlings they're selling!

I've been doing a decent bit of IRL activism stuff, and on the 21st there's also gonna be a big block party to celebrate a cafe's anniversary that a bunch of us are gonna be at! Communing with a lot of friends and like-minded homies is gonna be crazy fun!

I might try to work on some of my solarpunk stories, or try and draw! Maybe I'll try solarpunkifying one of my OCs or something? Who knows!

I also might try and write a solarpunk-adjacent essay of some sorts, but I haven't picked a topic yet...

Who knows how much of this I'll end up doing? There's only one way to find out! Fingers crossed!

[glowettee]

hiiiii, first of all I LOVE your blog and it has been helping me back into my sudy process, thank you for all your work darling!! second, I would like to know if you have seasonal study tips for winter because I'm on the southern hemisphere (if not thank you anyways, keep doing your wonderful blog the way you are right now because it's amazing!!).

✧・゜: winter focus study guide :・゜✧

hey lovely! ✧

omg your message just made me smile so big! knowing that something i've shared has actually helped you get back into your study flow is literally the best feeling ever. (sometimes i wonder if anyone's really reading these late night rambles of mine so this means the world!)

winter studying in the southern hemisphere sounds so dreamy to me right now while i'm melting in this summer heat! (besides these horrible floods and rainy days) it's so magical studying during the colder months, that perfect excuse to stay cozy inside with books and hot drinks while the world gets all moody and atmospheric outside.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ embrace the cozy season ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

winter studying has this special energy that summer just doesn't. lean all the way into creating the most ridiculously cozy study nest possible:

invest in the softest throw blanket you can find (i have this chunky knit one that's basically my study partner at this point)

fingerless gloves changed my life for cold morning study sessions when my hands get too stiff to type properly

warming up your favorite mug before pouring your tea/coffee keeps it hot so much longer (i literally microwave the empty mug for 30 seconds first)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ light as self-care ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

winter's shorter days can seriously mess with your focus and motivation (i literally turn into a sad little potato when it gets dark too early). some things that actually help:

study near natural light whenever possible, move your desk by the window if you can

fairy lights aren't just for aesthetics! the warm glow genuinely improves my mood when i'm struggling through difficult material

consider a happy lamp if winter seriously affects your energy (i resisted buying one forever thinking it was overpriced nonsense but it's been life-changing for my 6am study sessions)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ winter-proof your routine ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

cold weather requires different routines than summer studying:

the 45-10 method works better for me in winter than the traditional 25-5 pomodoro. longer focus sessions mean less getting up and getting cold!

morning studying becomes more challenging when your bed is warm and the room is not, so prepare everything the night before (i set up my desk completely, even putting my slippers right where my feet will land when i get up)

batch-prepare warm drinks in a thermos so you don't break focus running to the kitchen

winter afternoons get dark early, so front-load your hardest work earlier in the day when possible

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ seasonal motivation hacks ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

winter studying requires different motivation strategies:

create a "sunshine study fund". put aside a tiny amount of money each time you complete a study session, then use it for something bright and cheerful mid-winter

use scent anchors for focus. i have a specific winter study perfume (warm vanilla) that i only wear when studying, and it immediately puts my brain in work mode

winter playlists hit different. i have one called "study like you're in a cabin in the woods" that makes even statistics feel magical

reward yourself with warm treats instead of cold ones. hot chocolate as a study reward just hits different than summer's iced coffee

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ movement matters more ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

winter studying makes me want to become one with my chair and never move again, but that's actually the worst for productivity:

do 2-minute stretch breaks between subjects (i set specific stretch alarms)

keep a small space heater near your study area so moving doesn't mean getting cold

try "chapter walks", bundle up and take a quick 5-minute walk after completing each chapter or major section

winter studying has its own special magic that summer doesn't, lean into that cozy, contemplative energy and it might become your favorite study season!

sending you the warmest wishes for a productive winter study season! i'd love to hear which tips end up working best for you!

xoxo, mindy 🤍

p.s. don't forget to moisturize your hands during winter study sessions! dry skin from heaters and cold air makes page-turning and typing so uncomfortable (speaking from painful experience here).

[mrsvante]

Under All That Shy - Part One

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: office au, coworkers to lovers, fluffy and filthy

summary: introducing the softest man alive who’s been in love with you since the day you offered him half your highlighter pack and smiled like it meant something. he fixes the printer without being asked. brings you the wrong coffee order on purpose and blushes every time you say thank you.

for years, he’s loved you quietly. from a respectful distance. never daring to hope you might look at him the way he’s always looked at you—like you hung the moon.

but now? there’s a chance.

and taehyung, who has never been bold, never been reckless, decides this time… he has to be. because some things are worth the risk. and you’ve always been one of them.

warnings: soft!dom taehyung, oral sex f/m!receiving, protected sex (wrap it up!), multiple orgasms, teasing, begging, creampies (in condoms), big dick kim taehyung 😜, praise kink, a little manhandling, hair pulling, fogged up glasses 😏, printer room shenanigans, mentions of body insecurity and self consciousness, soft aftercare

word count: 7,589

a word from our sponsors 💁🏽‍♀️: soooooooo as usual, i got carried away and had to split this into two parts. since i don’t have a laptop at the moment and posting via my phone, tumblr has a limit on how long your posts can be 🙄😒 so here’s part 1, hopefully, you guys enjoy reading about this sweet man like i did writing him 😭💕💕💕

Taehyung transferred into your department on a rainy Monday morning. Tie askew, glasses fogged, and shoulders hunched like he hadn’t slept properly in weeks.

Most people barely glanced up from their desks. You, however, were the exception.

“Welcome to the team,” you’d said with a smile, holding out a hand still cold from your iced matcha. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You didn’t think much of it. It was a kind gesture, nothing more. But for Taehyung, the moment stretched out like something he could’ve only dreamed about. He remembered the exact color of your lipstick, the way your nails tapped gently against your tumbler, the warmth in your voice like a soft hum in the middle of winter.

And from that day forward, he was a goner.

He’d never been the type to flirt openly or linger too long in someone’s space. He didn’t know how to ask for attention, only how to give it.

He showed up every day in sweater vests over his button ups and perfectly ironed slacks, with his hair perpetually tousled from either stress or the way he ran his fingers through it when nervous.

Which was often.

He’d never been able to muster the courage to tell you how he felt, not once in nearly two years.

But you? You made it so hard not to fall deeper.

Your kindness was effortless. The way you greeted the team each morning, offering extra highlighters or granola bars without fanfare. When you rolled your eyes but still chuckled at the cheesy jokes in all staff meetings. How you always remembered birthdays and brought in little cupcakes with confetti sprinkles. You were sunshine and soft edges in a gray office, and Taehyung orbited you like a moon too shy to pull closer.

He started bringing you coffee from a nearby café, always claiming it was a mistake in his order.

“They gave me an extra again,” he’d say, offering it sheepishly. “Do you want it? Otherwise, it’ll just go to waste…”

You always said yes, always smiled, and always thanked him in that way that made his chest feel too tight. Sometimes you even touched his arm when you said it, and sometimes he had to go to the restroom just to breathe for a few minutes afterward.

Jimin, who worked in data analytics, teased him relentlessly.

“You’re pathetic,” he’d say, sipping his smoothie while Taehyung stared longingly at your desk from the breakroom window. “Tell her, or I will. And I’ll make it weird. You know I will.”

But he never could. Not because he thought you’d reject him, though that fear was real and sharp, but because he didn’t want to risk disturbing the gentle balance of what you already had. The quiet friendship with shared smiles, and an occasional lunch in the courtyard when everyone else was too busy.

It was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Mrs. Heiss, the department manager, made an announcement at the end of the quarter meeting that changed everything.

“We’re partnering with a local charity, Tannie’s Rescue,” she said, voice chipper over the conference room speaker. “To raise money, we’ll be hosting a company wide raffle. Prizes include an extra three days of PTO, a weekend staycation at the Marina Plaza Hotel, a pair of premium tickets to that musical at the civic theater…”

You were only half listening, head tilted slightly as you skimmed your notes. Then the manager grinned.

“Oh, and the grand prize,” she said with a little wink, “is an all expenses paid dinner at Elara’s—yes, the Elara’s—with a plus one of your choosing.”

The room buzzed with excited murmurs.

And Taehyung’s heart stopped.

It was stupid. Ridiculous, even. The kind of thing people joked about, then forgot. But as the meeting ended and everyone filed back to their desks, he couldn’t stop replaying it over and over in his head.

Dinner…with you.

Just once.

Just one night where he could pull out your chair and make you laugh and watch you enjoy dessert like you always did on your lunch breaks. Smiling with your eyes closed like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

He knew what he had to do.

And for once, he didn’t hesitate.

He bought thirty raffle tickets that day. Then fifteen more the next. Then forty the day after that. Jimin thought he was having a breakdown.

“You literally meal prep so you can save on lunch,” Jimin hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Something reckless,” Taehyung whispered. “Something stupid and brave.”

It worked.

Of course it worked.

When the raffle drawing happened at the end of month town hall meeting, Mrs. Heiss reached into the big glass bowl with a dramatic flourish. She unfolded the slip, read it aloud, and smiled.

“Our winner for a dinner at the Elara is… Taehyung Kim!”

Applause erupted. Someone whistled, another groaned.

And you, genuinely surprised with eyes wide and lips parted, turned toward him and beamed.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing, “I’m so glad you won. If it had been Eric, I swear to god I would’ve filed for FMLA.”

Taehyung flushed all the way to his ears.

“I’d, uh…” He cleared his throat, trying to hide the way his palms were already sweating. “I’d be honored to take you.”

You giggled, then leaned in slightly.

“I would be honored to accept, Tae.”

Taehyung had never been more terrified or more determined in his life.

Because this wasn’t just a raffle anymore.

It was a once in a lifetime shot.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

By Wednesday, Taehyung had memorized the menu for Elara’s after reading it front to back at least seven times. Dessert and drink menus included.

He clicked through emails like a robot, tried to focus during meetings, and quietly edited the same copy block on a client pitch four times before realizing he hadn’t actually changed anything.

He blamed it on the week.

But really… it was you.

He wasn’t trying to get his hopes up. He reminded himself of that every day.

Because maybe this dinner was just a friendly gesture. Maybe you were kind to everyone and those little moments he replayed in his mind weren’t seeds of something blooming. Maybe they were just how beautiful people moved through the world.

But then he’d remember.

You cursed under your breath as the printer jammed again for the third time that morning.

“Stupid piece of—”

“Here,” came a soft voice behind you. Taehyung.

He crouched beside the machine like a knight approaching a wounded steed, gently opening the tray and tugging out the mangled pages with delicate precision. His brows furrowed behind his glasses as he examined the inside like it personally offended him.

You watched as he murmured to himself about feed rollers and paper sensors.

“I didn’t know you were part time IT,” you joked.

He smiled without looking at you. “I just make it my business to understand what makes things tick. Or jam.”

When he finally got it working, you gave him a grateful look. “Lifesaver. I owe you.”

“Maybe…” He hesitated, fingers still resting on the warm surface of the machine. “Coffee?”

Your head tilted. “You want coffee?”

He panicked. “No. I mean—yes? I mean… I can bring you one. Just as thanks. For letting me…fix your jammed…thing.”

You tried not to smile too wide. “That would be lovely, Tae.”

He walked away blushing so hard he nearly tripped over the recycling bin.

~

You hadn’t told anyone at the office it was your birthday. Not intentionally, anyway.

But that morning, at exactly 8:42 A.M., a small lavender cupcake with cream cheese frosting appeared on your desk. No note. No candles. Just a soft little swirl of sweetness topped with a single sugar pearl.

You blinked, then turned your head, only to find Taehyung already sitting at his desk across the floor. Studiously typing something that didn’t need that much concentration.

You stood and crossed the room. He didn’t look up until your shadow passed over his monitor.

“Did you do this?” you asked, holding the cupcake like evidence.

He scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

You arched a brow.

“It just looked like you’d like that flavor,” he muttered.

You smiled.

“I love it.”

He beamed.

~

The downpour hit just as the workday ended. Thunder cracking like splintered bones. Sheets of water obscuring the parking lot outside.

“Shit,” you muttered, holding your phone up. “My rideshare’s canceled.”

“Wait here.”

You looked up, startled, as Taehyung jogged to the coat rack, yanked his umbrella loose, and shrugged on his raincoat.

You stared. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay.” His smile was shy but determined. “I parked close.”

He held the umbrella over your head the entire walk to his car, but let his side of the coat soak through so you wouldn’t get wet. He even opened the door for you like it was second nature.

Inside the car, you turned the vents on high. “You’re drenched.”

He didn’t seem to mind. He only grinned, eyes on the windshield wipers swaying back and forth.

“It was worth it.”

~

He came to work one morning with a soft scarf wrapped around his neck and a pair of new over ear headphones slung around his neck, shiny and a bit too big for his face.

You complimented them casually, “Nice headphones.”

Taehyung blinked. “You remember I mentioned I needed some?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. A while ago, right?”

That afternoon, a box appeared on your desk. Inside was a matching pair to his in a different color.

You blinked, stunned.

You turned, found him watching you from the breakroom doorway with a sheepish tilt to his smile.

“Now we match,” he said.

Your heart thudded too hard.

~

It had been a rough week.

Work was overwhelming, you hadn’t been sleeping well, and the world felt unusually heavy. So you took your lunch to the roof, where no one would bother you. Where the air was a little crisper, and the skyline was a little wider.

You hadn’t expected to find Taehyung already there, headphones on, sketchbook open, drawing something in smooth, clean strokes.

“Oh—sorry,” you murmured, turning to leave.

“No, wait.” He took out one earbud and patted the bench beside him. “You can sit. I don’t mind.”

The two of you ate in silence. Not awkward. Not strained. Just…quiet. Peaceful.

At one point, you leaned over and asked, “What are you drawing?”

He turned the sketchbook so you could see.

It was a coffee cup. Your coffee cup.

You blinked. “That’s mine.”

He nodded. “I like the way you hold it. Like it’s warm all the way through.”

You didn’t say anything after that.

But you stayed until the sun started to dip, and you didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

And now it was Thursday.

Two days left.

Two nights before he’d pick you up, hold out a bouquet of flowers and try not to pass out when you answered the door looking perfect like usual.

He still didn’t know what you’d say.

Still didn’t know if the dinner would end in a quiet hug or something more.

But when he sat at his desk, sipping from the coffee mug you once complimented, fingers resting over the keys, Taehyung allowed himself just for a second to hope.

Because if the only thing these memories proved was how kind you were… then he was still lucky.

But if they meant even a little more, then maybe he had a chance.

He oscillated between that hope and dread like a clock with a nervous tic.

Every glance from you, every little laugh you tossed over your shoulder in meetings. Every time you leaned across his desk to point out a number he’d missed in a report, it all felt heavier now. Fragile and enormous at once. And yet, somehow, you didn’t change at all.

You were still you.

Kind. Friendly. Funny without any effort. Thoughtful without even realizing it.

You didn’t treat him any differently, and that nearly undid him.

On Friday afternoon, as the office hummed with the slow unraveling of another workweek, you sat with him in the courtyard over lunch. Your knees brushed once under the table, and Taehyung almost forgot how to chew.

Halfway through your pasta, you laughed and tapped your phone against your palm. “Oh, I just realized we never exchanged numbers. Kinda ridiculous, right? I’ve known you for two years.”

He blinked. “R-Right.”

You handed your phone over. “Here. So we can coordinate tomorrow. Or text memes. Or… whatever.”

His fingers trembled slightly as he typed in his contact info, but he hoped you couldn’t tell. When he handed it back, you smiled and saved it under Tae Tae 🐻.

He nearly died on the spot.

You didn’t notice. You were too busy grinning. “Perfect. I’m free after six. Let me know what time you want to head over.”

And that was it. Just like that, you gave him access to a part of your world he’d only admired from the periphery. He spent the rest of the day floating, trying not to get his hopes too high while also desperately, quietly begging the universe to let this work.

Taehyung’s alarm went off before sunrise.

He lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest like someone preparing for a spiritual rebirth. Or a funeral. Or maybe both.

Then he got up.

First was the gym. Not because he thought it would change anything drastically, but because Jimin had insisted it would burn off the crazy and clear his mind. It didn’t, not entirely, but it did help steady the pacing of his thoughts.

He left with sore legs, flushed skin, and an oddly grounded sense of control.

Second, the hair salon.

Jimin had made the appointment weeks ago, just in case, because of course he had. Taehyung sat under warm lights while the stylist ran practiced fingers through his hair, trimming and shaping and blow drying with delicate precision. He didn’t ask for anything dramatic, just enough polish to help him feel like the version of himself he imagined you might see if you looked closely.

When he left the salon, he texted Jimin a selfie.

[9:45 AM]: do i look like someone she might say yes to?

Jimin replied instantly.

Jimin Park [9:46 AM]: you look like someone she should’ve said yes to YEARSSS ago 😮‍💨 but yeah, you look hot. now go pick out something that won’t scream “groomsman at someone else’s wedding.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes but smiled.

Back home, the nerves came back. Stronger this time.

Two hours before he was set to pick you up, he found himself standing in front of the full length mirror, FaceTime open, Jimin’s face squinting at him from the screen.

“You’re seriously wearing the vest,” Jimin said, chewing on a red licorice stick like a judge at a fashion tribunal.

Taehyung looked down at the suit, fitted just right, the satin backed vest buttoned neatly over his dress shirt. His tie was simple. His shoes, freshly shined. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t trendy.

It was him.

“I feel comfortable in it,” Taehyung muttered. “Confident.”

Jimin shrugged. “Then it’s the right choice. Besides, she won’t care what you’re wearing. You could show up in a hoodie and she’d still look at you like the human version of cinnamon toast.”

Taehyung flushed. “Don’t—Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why? It’s true. You’re a good guy, dude. She already likes you. You just need to let her see the whole you now.”

Taehyung was quiet for a second. Then nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Jimin repeated. “Now go knock her socks off, you dork.”

They ended the call and Taehyung moved through the rest of his preparations with slow, careful steps.

He spritzed cologne, just a couple sprays, under his jaw. Styled his hair the way the stylist showed him, letting the longer fringe fall slightly over his forehead, the rest sleek and smooth. He checked his breath. Dabbed at an invisible speck on his lapel. Grabbed the bouquet of flowers he’d picked out that morning, that had just enough color to say I was thinking of you.

And then, just like that, he was out the door.

The black Escalade waited at the curb, sleek and humming quietly like a heartbeat. The driver opened the door for him.

He slid into the backseat, smoothing his palms down his thighs.

“Ready, sir?” the driver asked.

Taehyung exhaled slowly. Closed his eyes for half a second.

Then opened them with a small smile, the faintest curve of hope tucked beneath the quiet lines of his expression.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s go pick her up.”

—

The car pulled to a gentle stop at the curb, engine low and smooth beneath the quiet pulse of Taehyung’s nerves.

His fingers curled around the bouquet in his lap, blooms of soft peach and creamy white with sprigs of green, and he glanced at the townhouse beyond the window. His heart lurching like he was back in high school and about to knock on his date’s door before prom.

The driver stepped out first, coming around to open his door.

Taehyung followed with careful steps, his shoes clicking softly against the sidewalk. He stood for a second, taking in a few calming breaths. Then approached your front door and raised his hand to knock, just as it opened.

And there you were.

Bathed in the glow of your porch light, the sight of you knocked the wind from his lungs. Your dress hugged you perfectly, effortless and elegant with just enough detail to make you look like the main character in a dream he’d never had the courage to talk about out loud.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice a soft thrill of something familiar but new. Your eyes sparkled as they roamed over him. “You clean up so well.”

He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but what came out was mostly air.

“I—you—you look…” His eyes widened behind his glasses. “You look… breathtaking.”

You raised your brows, pleasantly surprised, and then his arm shot out, nearly fumbling the bouquet in his haste.

“These are for you,” he added quickly. “I, um—I wasn’t sure what your favorite flowers were, so I tried to find a mix that felt… like you.”

You accepted them with both hands, tilting your head with a warm smile. “Tae, these are beautiful. That’s so sweet of you.”

He nodded, flinching when you laughed unexpectedly.

“This almost feels like a real date,” you teased, bringing the bouquet up to inhale the scent. “Not just some charity prize.”

Taehyung felt his heart stutter. But he recovered, just barely, offering you a shy smile.

“Well… I guess that depends on how you want it to feel.”

Your eyes lingered on his, just a second longer than necessary before you stepped back inside to put the flowers in some water. You stepped back onto your porch gently closing the door behind you. “Shall we?”

He moved instantly, guiding you with a gentleman’s instinct he didn’t know he had, opening the door of the Escalade for you with one hand while smoothing his other against the back of his vest like he was trying not to wrinkle anything. He waited until you were seated, your dress gathered around your legs, then slid in beside you.

Leaving enough space to be respectful, but close enough that the warmth of you radiated across the small divide.

—

You rolled through the evening streets, tinted windows casting soft reflections across Taehyung’s face. Outside, the city shimmered with glass towers catching the last streaks of the setting sun, signs blooming to life as the skyline deepened to indigo.

Inside the car, everything felt suspended. Like a snow globe turned just once, gently, before being set down to settle.

You chatted casually, picking up where you’d always left off, as coworkers, and as friends. You mentioned the stress of the last product launch. He told you about Jimin’s most recent dramatic rant about data integrity and how their manager had walked in mid-monologue.

You laughed and he swore he hadn’t laughed that much in days.

Then, just as the car made a slow turn through a roundabout, he turned toward you slightly and cleared his throat.

“You know…” he began, voice low but clear, “I don’t think I properly told you how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes widened, breath caught for just a moment.

“I—I mean you always look great at work,” he added, gaze earnest. “But tonight, it’s different. Like you stepped out of some… classic film. One of the ones where the heroine walks in and the whole world forgets how to breathe.”

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

Then slowly you looked down, lips parting in the beginnings of a smile so soft it made his chest ache.

“…That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten in years,” you murmured, cheeks warming visibly.

He smiled too, a little proud, and completely wrecked by how lovely you looked when flustered.

—

When the car pulled up to the curb outside Elara’s, the valet moved immediately to open your door. Taehyung stepped out first, then turned to offer his hand to you, hesitating only slightly before placing it at the small of your back as he guided you inside.

You didn’t pull away.

The maître d’ recognized the reservation immediately and led the two of you through the lush interior. All warm lighting and cream linens, wine glasses already waiting at the table, a low centerpiece of candles flickering like fireflies.

Taehyung felt the eyes of other diners pass over the two of you as you walked, but he didn’t care.

Not about them.

Not about anything but the weight of your presence beside him, your perfume soft in the air, the way your heels clicked quietly against the marble floor.

He pulled out your chair like a man raised in a different time. Waited until you were settled before taking his seat across from you, fingers laced tightly beneath the table so you wouldn’t see how hard they shook.

For two years, he had lived for the moments you let him orbit you.

And now?

You were sitting across from him, dressed to the nines. Laughing and smiling, and bushing from his words.

This wasn’t orbit anymore.

This was gravity.

—

For the first few minutes, Taehyung barely touched his water.

He was too busy watching you from across the table, trying to memorize the way the candlelight shifted across your skin, golden and soft, like you’d been painted in warmth.

You scanned the menu with a little furrow between your brows. You didn’t rush to fill the silence, neither did he. The music was soft enough that you didn’t need to raise your voice, yet intimate enough that any word spoken felt like a secret.

When the waiter returned to take your orders, you glanced at Taehyung and grinned. “Should I be adventurous tonight?”

He blinked, then smiled shyly. “Only if you let me share bites.”

Your lips curled. “Deal.”

You placed your orders, the waiter disappearing with a quiet nod, and when your eyes returned to his, something in your gaze had changed.

“You’ve been quiet,” you said gently. “Nervous?”

He looked down at his folded hands. “Terrified.”

You laughed, not unkindly. “You hide it well.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he murmured.

You tilted your head. “Practice being nervous… or hiding it?”

“Both.”

Your smile softened at the edges. “You don’t need to be nervous around me, Tae.”

He glanced up. His voice, when it came, was quieter than before. “I know, that’s why it’s worse.”

You blinked.

He swallowed. “It’s easy being nervous around people who don’t matter. But when it’s you—” He exhaled, brows pinching. “It’s like my whole nervous system short circuits. Like I forget how to breathe the second you look at me.”

There was a beat of silence between you.

Then another.

Then your fingers reached across the table, not all the way, not touching but near. Close enough to feel the invitation in the gesture.

“I had no idea,” you said softly.

“I know,” he whispered. “I never told you.”

You looked like you wanted to say something else, but the waiter returned with a bottle of wine, and the moment was suspended again, a delicate and dangling pause.

—

Dinner arrived in warm waves. Grilled seabass in a bright citrus glaze. Truffle risotto with shaved parmesan. Seared asparagus and roasted garlic potatoes. The kind of meal that made you both hum with delight at the first bite.

Taehyung had to remind himself not to stare.

You were gorgeous always, but there was something especially magnetic about watching you enjoy food. The way you closed your eyes just slightly with the first forkful. The way your smile widened with each new flavor.

At one point, you offered him a bite of your dish. He leaned in with zero hesitation and took it from your fork, lips brushing the tines. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“That’s incredible,” he said, licking a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“Right?” you grinned. “I was going to keep it to myself, but then you hit me with that ‘breathing is hard when you look at me’ line and, well…” You lifted your wine glass. “Here we are.”

He laughed, more relaxed now. Buzzed, not from the wine, but from the way you leaned into him, conversation blooming like flowers between courses.

You asked him about his hobbies, and he lit up talking about the photography club he used to run back at the sister branch, the short story drafts he wrote on his phone during long train rides, the playlist he was curating based on different kinds of weather.

“Wait—weather?” you repeated, amused.

He nodded. “Not moods. Weather. They’re similar, but… not the same.”

“I need an example.”

He sat up straighter, a spark dancing in his eyes. “Okay. Rain in spring is different from rain in fall. Spring rain is forgiving. Fall rain is final.”

You stared at him. “Okay, that’s… actually really poetic.”

He flushed. “Jimin says it’s pretentious.”

“Jimin eats Pop Tarts with a fork.”

Taehyung laughed so hard he nearly choked on his water.

You reached for your napkin and handed it to him between giggles, eyes crinkling in that way that always undid him.

—

The plates were taken away and dessert was offered. You shared a tiramisu, the sponge soaked just enough to melt on the tongue. You fed him a bite without thinking. He took it like it was something you’d always done.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The restaurant was still bustling, soft laughter and gentle clinks rising all around, but at your table, time had slowed to a golden crawl.

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his chair, studying you. “You’ve always been kind to me,” he said. “Even when I had no idea how to talk to you.”

You sipped your wine and tilted your head. “You talk to me all the time, Tae.”

“Not like this,” he murmured.

Your gaze lingered. “I always hoped you would.”

He blinked. “Really?”

You nodded, a little shy now yourself. “I always thought there was something about you. Quiet, but… steady. Thoughtful. Like you pay attention to things no one else does.”

He swallowed.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“You always know when someone’s having a rough day. You remember the exact way people take their coffee. You listen.” You smiled. “That’s rare. And you do it so gently, like you don’t want anyone to notice you care that much.”

He looked away, overwhelmed.

But you didn’t let the moment slip.

You reached across the table again, this time with purpose, and brushed your fingers over his knuckles.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whispered. “I know it’s just a raffle prize, but… it doesn’t feel like that.”

He turned his hand slowly beneath yours, letting your fingers meet with the smallest squeeze.

“It never was just a prize,” he said, barely audible.

You didn’t let go.

Your hand had settled over his like it belonged there, like it always had. And for the first time in a long time, Taehyung wasn’t thinking about the weight of the moment, or what could go wrong. He was only thinking about you. Sitting here and glowing like you were born of candlelight and laughter.

Still.

He needed courage, and maybe just a little liquid fuel. With a determined little breath, he picked up his wine glass.

You arched an eyebrow. “Taehyung?”

“I need it,” he said and tossed back the rest of it in one smooth, but slightly dramatic, motion.

You burst into soft laughter, covering your mouth with your hand. “You’re so ridiculous.”

He set the glass down and winced a little as the wine hit his chest with a warm bloom. “That’s fair. I feel ridiculous.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

Taehyung swallowed, fingers twitching near the base of his now empty glass.

Then he looked at you, really looked at you, and something in his chest finally gave in.

“Because I’ve liked you for so long it’s honestly embarrassing.”

You blinked.

The table didn’t tilt, lights didn’t dim, but everything around you both seemed to hush.

His voice remained low, steady, but there was a quake beneath it, like a fault line giving way after years of pressure.

“I thought maybe it would go away,” he said. “I thought I could just… admire you from a distance and be okay with that. But I wasn’t—I’m not. I’ve tried to talk myself out of it a hundred times, but every time I see you, I remember why I fell in the first place.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came.

Taehyung leaned forward, elbows on the table now, bare honesty painting his expression in soft, unguarded strokes.

“You’re the kindest person I know. You’re so damn smart and funny, and you light up a room without even trying. You’ve made me feel seen in ways I didn’t even know I needed. And I know this dinner was technically a raffle prize, but it wasn’t for me. It never was. It was just an excuse.”

You swallowed hard, eyes shimmering.

Taehyung exhaled.

“I—I’ve wanted to ask you out since the week I met you. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, or make things weird. But I can’t keep pretending I’m not in love with you. Not when I’m sitting here, across from you, knowing this is the closest I’ve ever been to having everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You blinked. Once. Twice.

Taehyung’s next words came out in a quiet tumble.

“So I guess what I’m trying to say is… would you go on a real date with me? Not a charity prize. Not a work thing. Just… me and you. And maybe I get to hold your hand the whole time?”

You didn’t speak right away.

Instead, you stared at him. Like you were seeing him for the first time, even though you’d been looking at him for years. Then your lips curved slowly, into something soft and sure.

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

Taehyung’s heart slammed against his ribs. “Wait… is that a yes?”

You laughed, like you couldn’t believe he still needed to ask.

“Of course it’s a yes, Tae.”

And just like that, the ground beneath his feet steadied. The fear that had shadowed him for years evaporated under the warmth of your smile.

You reached across the table again, hand finding his easily this time.

“So, uh… does this mean I can finally text you memes?”

He grinned so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yes! I mean…you better. And I expect at least three reaction gifs a day.”

You raised your wine glass, and he followed suit with the water the waiter had just refilled, his hand still locked in yours beneath the table.

“To real dates,” you said.

“To not chickening out,” he added.

Your glasses clinked.

And across the candlelit table, your fingers intertwined like they’d been waiting to for a very long time.

—

Dinner ended the way these kinds of stories rarely do, on a note of honest joy.

Your laughter lingered in the folds of the napkin you dabbed against your lips. The last spoonful of tiramisu sat abandoned at the bottom of its dish. Forgotten in favor of everything else that had bloomed between you and Taehyung in the past hour.

He reached for the check out of habit, though the meal had already been prepaid as part of the raffle.

Still, he pulled a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and scribbled something carefully at the bottom of the receipt. Then slid a few crisp bills beneath the corner of the tray.

You tilted your head. “Tae… it’s covered.”

“I know,” he murmured, not looking at you as he capped the pen. “But she was kind. And I want this night to leave behind more than just empty wine glasses.”

You watched him with something soft blooming in your chest. Something that felt like affection dipped in awe.

He stood and came to your side, offering his hand again, and you took it without hesitation. He didn’t let go right away, just held on a little longer as he helped you out of your chair.

The car was waiting at the curb humming faintly. Taehyung opened the door for you, helping you inside with his touch lingering at your waist just a heartbeat longer than before.

You settled into the seat, still smiling.

But the car didn’t move.

Instead of pulling away from the curb toward the direction of your townhouse, the driver turned left, deeper into the heart of the city.

You glanced at Taehyung.

He was staring straight ahead, hands folded neatly in his lap, but you caught the faintest flicker of tension in his shoulders.

You turned to him slowly. “Tae?”

He looked over, lips twitching upward in a sheepish smile.

“I… planned a detour,” he said, voice quiet but certain. “Just in case.”

Your brows lifted, curious. “Just in case?”

“In case tonight went well.” He paused, laughing softly under his breath. “In case you didn’t run screaming from the restaurant. Or tell me I’d misread everything.”

You smiled, eyes warm. “And if I had?”

His gaze flicked to yours, then dropped briefly to your lap before returning, more open than before. “Then I would’ve told the driver to take you straight home. No questions asked.”

There was a pause, quiet and intimate.

“Would you rather I do that now?” he asked, and there was no pressure in his voice. Just something wrapped in the tentative hope of someone who’d spent too long waiting for a green light in his heart.

You didn’t speak right away.

Instead, you reached across the small space between you and gently hooked your hand around his arm, leaning in with your chin tipped up just slightly.

“Not a chance.”

His eyes widened, just for a second.

You smiled. “I’m excited for whatever you’ve planned. Don’t overthink it. Just… take me there.”

His breath hitched, a quiet laugh escaping as he looked down at where your hand still rested on his sleeve.

“Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.”

The driver continued down the street, and the lights outside blurred into soft ambers and blues, glowing against the glass.

The Escalade rolled to a gentle stop in front of a tall limestone building with elegant steel framed windows and golden lettering on the awning that read Maison Everhart — Curated Modern & Classical Art.

You looked over at Taehyung with a surprised smile. “The Everhart? Isn’t it usually closed by now?”

He bit his bottom lip to hide the grin that was threatening to bloom. “Usually, yeah.”

You raised a brow, amused. “Taehyung… what did you do?”

“I may have called in a favor,” he said, cheeks turning that beautiful pink he never seemed able to control around you. “The director’s an old friend of my aunt. I asked if she’d consider letting us walk the exhibit after hours. She said yes and threw in champagne.”

He held the door open for you before you could respond, and you stepped out into the summer night. The gallery’s heavy glass doors were already unlocked with a security guard standing just inside who greeted you both as Taehyung flashed his ID.

Soft music, something low and classical, with strings floated through the entryway.

Inside, it was cool and still, tinged with the smell of aged paint and filtered air. The light pooled in soft puddles beneath track lighting and gleaming hardwood floors. Just past the entrance, a small table to the left held two long stemmed glasses of champagne and a card addressed to Taehyung and guest: enjoy your private tour in an elegant, looping hand.

You took in the space with a smile that slowly widened until it filled your whole face. “This is…”

Taehyung stood beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. “Too much?”

“No,” you said, reaching for one of the glasses and offering him the other. “It’s perfect.”

He let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like relief.

You took his free hand and laced your fingers with his. He froze, tension lacing every inch of his body but where your fingers were intertwined.

“Come on,” you said gently, tugging him forward. “Let’s see what your after hours access is hiding.”

—

You walked hand in hand through the gallery, footsteps echoing lightly across polished floors. The exhibits were a blend of classic oil portraits and contemporary installations. Taut wire sculptures, bold abstract canvases, and quiet pieces that demanded silence just to be fully heard.

Taehyung hadn’t expected to still be holding your hand twenty minutes in. He certainly hadn’t expected the ease of it. How naturally your fingers curved around his, how you occasionally traced the back of his thumb with your own without even realizing it.

He was barely functioning.

You stopped in front of a piece he loved. A charcoal sketch of a woman curled into herself, lines soft but decisive, shadowed just enough to feel like longing, and he barely registered your commentary. All he could feel was the heat of your palm, your shoulder brushing his, the fact that you were here and smiling like this night was exactly where you wanted to be.

His heart had turned into something unstable.

You looked over at him, mid sentence, and caught his dazed expression.

“You okay?” you asked softly.

He blinked, and nodded once. “You’re holding my hand.”

Your smile turned indulgent, head tilted. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just… it’s very distracting. Beautiful. Distracting. I—I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

You leaned in, brushing your shoulder against his as you whispered, “Well then don’t wake up.”

He almost dropped his champagne.

Eventually, the winding path of gallery walls opened to a quiet courtyard strung with golden lights overhead and potted olive trees surrounding an open stone terrace. The music was louder here, still classical but fuller and richer, with a cello line that seemed to rise and swell just for you.

Taehyung paused at the threshold, hand still in yours, looking like he wasn’t quite sure if he was allowed to step outside.

You didn’t give him the chance to hesitate.

With a tug, you led him forward into the center of the courtyard, the lights painting his skin in soft gold and honeyed shadow.

“What are we—” he started.

You stopped him with your fingers curling gently around his lapels.

“We’re dancing.”

His breath caught. “Here?”

You smiled. “Yes, here.”

You guided his hands to your waist, your own arms rising to rest behind his neck. “Don’t worry. No one’s watching.”

“I am,” he said softly, as his hands finally settled on your waist. “I can’t not.”

You began to sway. Small, slow movements in time with the gentle rhythm of the music. The world fell away. Even the rustle of the trees and the hum of distant traffic faded. All that remained was the hush of soft strings and the warmth of your bodies moving in slow circles together.

Taehyung’s fingers tightened slightly at your waist as if he needed to be sure this wasn’t another one of the dreams he’d had about you.

Your smile softened. “You’re allowed to hold me, Tae.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

You leaned in and pressed your cheek gently against his shoulder, the fabric of his suit cool against your skin. He went completely still for a beat, then relaxed, his hands flattening against your lower back and pulling you a little closer.

“I think,” his cheek rested lightly against your temple, “I’ve wanted this for as long as I’ve known you.”

You closed your eyes.

“I know.”

And then neither of you said anything.

Because there was nothing left to say.

—

The ride home was quiet, but not in a way that begged to be filled.

Your hands were still laced in the space between you on the seat, resting atop the soft fabric of Taehyung’s slacks. His thumb traced a gentle line across your knuckles every now and then, absent and thoughtful, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

Outside the windows, the city lights rolled past in blurry golds and silvers, the streets quieter now, hushed by midnight.

Taehyung kept stealing glances at you.

Not in a way that asked for attention. Just the kind of quiet marveling someone does when they’re still not used to being allowed to look this closely.

When the car finally pulled to a stop outside your townhouse, he was the first to move.

He slipped out and turned back before the driver could offer. Always the gentleman, always a little breathless as he held out his hand to help you down like it was second nature.

The air was cooler now. Crisp and scented faintly with late blooming moon flowers from the neighbor’s yard. Your heels clicked softly on the pavers up to your door as Taehyung walked beside you, his hand still ghosting yours like he didn’t want to let go unless he had to.

Once you reached the porch, you turned to him with a smile so genuine it almost knocked the wind from his lungs.

“I had an amazing time tonight.”

He blinked, surprised by the certainty in your voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I know it technically happened because of the raffle, but…” You laughed, “It was the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Taehyung laughed too, before his eyes went wide. “Wait—really?”

“Really.”

He flushed, tugging at the end of his suit jacket with one hand. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I’d ever be in a position where I’d have to top myself when it came to a first date.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused.

“But I will,” he added, grinning now. “Our official first date? It’s gonna be even better. You won’t even remember this one.”

You leaned in just a little, smiling up at him through your lashes. “Bold claim.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said, then paused, biting back a nervous grin. “Okay, I am afraid. Terrified actually, but I’ll still try.”

Your laughter bubbled up again.

“Would it…” he leaned in, just slightly, and said so softly it barely reached over the sound of the wind, “be okay if I kissed you?”

Your breath caught.

Then you nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled, bashful and radiant all at once. And with the gentlest care, he reached up and slipped his glasses off.

It was adorable, how meticulously he folded them and tucked them into his pocket before turning back to you with cheeks flushed and lips parted slightly, breath already uneven.

You didn’t have to wait long.

His kiss was soft.

Shy and sweet in a way that made your heart ache. One hand braced near your waist, the other hovering like he didn’t dare touch your cheek unless you asked him to. His lips brushed yours with the kind of tenderness people wrote books about.

He pulled away before it could deepen, blinking at you like he wasn’t sure if he’d gone too far.

“I should probably say goodnight,” he murmured, voice low and a little rough. “And text you in the morning.”

He took a step back.

You caught his wrist.

He stilled.

Your voice was quiet. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

His eyes widened just a little. “I—um—”

You smiled, thumb brushing gently against the soft skin of his inner wrist. “Just a drink. Or… conversation. Whatever you’d like.”

Taehyung hesitated, only for a heartbeat before smiling. “Give me one second?”

You nodded, watching as he turned and jogged lightly back to the waiting Escalade. He leaned into the driver’s window, spoke for a moment with a gracious dip of his head, then reached into his jacket to pass along a tip. The driver gave him a nod and a faint smile before pulling smoothly away from the curb.

When he returned to your door, Taehyung looked… lighter.

Like a boy who had thrown every coin he had into the fountain and was finally starting to believe the wish might come true.

“I’d love that drink,” he said, brushing his hand down the front of his vest before stepping inside as you held the door open.

You let him pass by, closing the door gently behind you.

two | masterlist

[urfriendlylocalidiot]

I wrote this on my lunch break lol

Little Moments w/ NewJeans

Just some random moments with NewJeans

Minji

Minji would hold any door for you, no questions asked. She also holds your hand, like a lot. At any given point, she holds the door open for you and then immediately grabs your hand. She doesn’t even realize that she does it until you point it out one day.

She would definitely be embarrassed about it and not do it for like a week straight, before eventually blushing and grabbing your hand saying, ‘well, your mine, and I want to hold you’

Hanni

Hanni would pack you lunch and even bring it to you if she could. She loves cooking in general, but even more so when it’s meals for you. Usually it’s Vietnamese food that she misses from home too and she wanted to share it with you.

Of course you’re more than happy to receive it and even started cooking her some things from your childhood as well. It’s become a nice date activity for the two of you.

Danielle

Danielle is your literal ray of sunshine. So it doesn’t shock you at all when she literally has something for you anytime she sees you. Usually it’s just coffee or boba, but sometimes it even becomes flowers and hoodies with a ‘D’ on the arm.

They’re the perfect pick-me-ups on top of seeing her after a long day. Of course, you do the same in ten-fold, and no matter how many of those things are in your arms, you will always pick her up and spin her when you see her.

Haerin

Haerin would make playlists for you. For literally every occasion, she made rainy day playlists and playlists just for certain times of day. However, the ones that always make you blush, are the ones that have your name and a heart emoji next to them.

They’re her way of showing love and you couldn’t ask for a better lover. Whenever she just hears a song that she thinks you would like, she’ll send it to you, whether it’s a song she randomly heard at 2am or a song that she’s practicing too.

Hyein

Hyein would send you pictures of literally everything she does in a day. Thank god for SnapChat otherwise you would literally have no storage left in your phone. She’d send you pictures of the sky, her outfit/s, any and everything she thinks would make you smile.

It never fails to bring a smile to your face, and you end up sending her pictures of the goofy things you do too.

[folklovrrr]

“Rain Like This”

Niragi x F!reader

Genre: fluff💆🏼‍♀️🩷

Niragi and his girlfriend enjoying a quiet, rainy day together. A rare glimpse at the side of him nobody else sees.

The rain started sometime in the early morning, tapping softly against the windows of their tiny apartment like a gentle knock. It wasn’t the violent kind that rattled the gutters or flooded the streets. This rain was the lazy, lingering kind, the kind that asked you to slow down, pull the blankets tighter, and breathe a little softer.

Niragi had woken first, not to an alarm, but to the rhythmic hush of water against glass and the warm pressure of her body tucked beside him.

She was sprawled across his chest like a content cat, face half-hidden in the crook of his neck, her hair a warm mess of sunshine that contrasted so dramatically with the gray outside. It should have annoyed him, the weight, the clinginess, the complete vulnerability of it all.

But instead, Niragi found himself frozen in a moment he didn’t want to end.

His hand, rough with old calluses, moved slowly across her bare shoulder. He traced lazy shapes on her skin, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as she stirred.

“Mmm… you’re awake?” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Who cares,” he replied, voice quieter than anyone but her ever got to hear. “It’s raining.”

She hummed, nuzzling closer. “I like the rain.”

“I know.”

He didn’t say it, but he liked it too, when it meant this. When the world outside was soaked and gray, but in here it was just her and him and the quiet comfort of not needing to be anything else.

Eventually they got out of bed, only because she insisted on making tea and because she’d threatened to poke him until he gave in. Niragi rolled his eyes but followed, hoodie thrown over his head and socks sliding on the wooden floors as he trailed her to the tiny kitchen.

They ended up on the couch with mismatched mugs in hand, a blanket thrown over their legs, and an old movie playing in the background, one she liked and he pretended to hate, even though he always watched when she wasn’t looking.

At some point, she leaned into him again, head resting on his shoulder. Her fingers absently played with the string of his hoodie, her body warm and soft against his.

“You’re being quiet today,” she said after a while.

“I like the quiet.”

“But you’re usually a menace when you’re bored.”

Niragi snorted. “Maybe I’m not bored.”

She looked up at him, surprised by the honesty in his voice.

“You okay?” she asked softly.

His eyes didn’t move from the window, but his hand found hers under the blanket.

“Yeah,” he said, giving it a small squeeze. “When it’s like this… I feel like I can breathe.”

She didn’t say anything to that, she didn’t have to. She just leaned up and kissed his cheek, resting her forehead there for a second longer than usual.

No one else got to see this version of him, the one who wasn’t sharp edges and raised voices, but soft silences and secret warmth.

No one else got the sleepy smiles, or the thumb tracing circles on her hand, or the way he melted just a little when she looked at him like he was something more than a weapon with legs.

But she did.

And on a rainy day like this, when the world was still and soft, he let her see all of him.

[horrorlove14]

Make My Sun Shine - Tokyo Revengers

Mitsuya Takashi X Gender-neutral! Florist! Reader

Warning: Brief mention of injuries and gang fights.

It doesn't cost to feel like you've blown it all away

And you'll get lost to feelin' like you've found the way

To feel like you want it (everyday)

Like you've got it (it's not gonna stay)

Life you always wanna feel this way

Takashi finds himself admiring a certain florist named Y/N from a distance while running errands for his mother, which he has been doing for the past couple of months.

They are often seen wearing a facemask while they're working, which has him getting all curious about what's underneath it and what kind of face they have.

Little did he know that he was being admired from afar by the florist. They have taken notice of Takashi ever since they started working full-time at a flower shop in the city center because they find him attractive despite having seen him with injuries due to fights and wearing the gang uniform.

You make my sun shine

You make my watch tick slowly

You make my sunshine

You make me tan in the rain

On one fateful rainy evening, as Y/N is on their way home from work, they bump into Takashi, who is injured with his face and knuckles, bleeding and bruising, and is limping and on the verge of collapse.

In a panic, they picked up Takashi and dragged him back into their apartment because they feared him getting ill from the rain and his wounds getting infected.

Once they are at the apartment, the soaked and injured Takashi is placed onto the sofa to lie down while Y/N retrieves their first aid kit and towels to treat him as he falls unconscious from the wounds.

Loosen your mind when you talk

Tighten your eyes with your thoughts

Call it whatever you like

My words don't seem to mind

A bit of time later, Takashi wakes up to see that he's bandaged up and dry at an unfamiliar place.

He's pleasantly surprised to see the person he's been admiring is here in front of him without their face mask, and their face is softly beautiful and kind looking.

Y/N explains to him that he's at their home after finding him injured outside and had treated his injuries as a result.

He thanked them profusely for their help and wanted to repay them by asking for their contact details and if they could hang out sometime, to which they said yes.

To feel like you want it (everyday)

Like you've got it (it's not gonna stay)

Life you always wanna feel this way

Eventually, they started hanging out together with each other and having play dates with his younger sisters, Mana and Luna, by teaching them how to make flower crowns and bouquets, etc.

Takashi and Y/N have grown closer over time and one day, he ends up asking them out on a date, which they have accepted.

For their first date, they went to an arcade and a diner before going to watch a film at the cinema where they had a good time together and enjoyed each other's company. Takashi wished that the date would last longer because he would miss them until the next time they see each other.

You make my sun shine

You make my watch tick slowly

You make my sunshine

You make me tan in the rain

Their second date is spent at the Mitsuya home where they babysat Mana and Luna while Mrs. Mitsuya is out for the day. They enjoy themselves by cooking meals together, watching TV and playing with their toys, etc.

Takashi is contemplating how he should do his love confession by turning to his closest friends for their advice. They give him good advice on how he should approach it towards Y/N on their next hangout, which is happening pretty soon.

I feel like I want it (everyday)

Like I got it (it's not gonna stay)

Life I always wanna feel this way

When the fated day arrives, Takashi and Y/N decide to go to the local aquarium together and just spend quality time admiring the animals in display.

During this time, he stares at them, observing the animals and commenting on their movements and appearance like an excited kid during a school field trip.

If it makes you feel better

That the time moves slowly

If it makes you feel better

That the time moves slowlyyyyy

Long story short, Takashi and Y/N became a happy couple and are now enjoying a happy and loving relationship as a couple by going on weekend dates, hang outs at the florist, study dates at each other's houses and hanging out with their friends.

You make my sun shine

You make my watch tick slowly

You make my sunshine

You make me tan in the rain

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End of song fic. Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated.