#writing from my old blog

[desired-fantasy-writings]

(Most) NSR characters reaction to receiving flowers from their S/O

Request by: I forgor

Warnings: None

Readers Gender: Gender Neutral

Fanfic Type: Headcanon

Fanfic Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1028

Zuke

For being the chillest dude in the city, he honestly grows confused, yet flattered. He isn't much into flowers, but he appreciates them never the less with a growing blush on his cheeks. He's never gotten flowers from anyone before, but he'd rather buy his S/O flowers instead cause he loves to see their reaction (including giving them lots of kisses right after.)

DK West

Same as Zuke (cause he's his older brother obviously, duh) but acts very excitable as he picks his S/O up in a big bear hug. He's quite surprised they did something quite out of the norm, but he appreciates their enthusiasm when they show him the flowers with a jolly yet anxious look on their face. 

Mayday

Oh boy. If you thought she was already cracked, she'd be even more cracked tossing the thought of personal space out the window when her S/O gives her flowers. She's always excited getting anything from her S/O in general really, but the flowers they picked out were her favourite colour (and they smelt nice.) Since she lives in a sewer, she couldn't keep the poor things alive. Zuke told her so after all.

Eve

Poor thing grows into a blushing mess, basically speechless. She's just so appreciative while loving the generous gift. The flowers that her S/O gifted her gave Eve the inspiration she needed for her next art piece. This new sense of inspiration lead Eve to taking the flowers (including their S/O) to her studio and started a new project that evolved all around them, the flowers, and every amount of love Eve has for her S/O into it. 

Tatiana

Doesn't seem amused or impressed by them at first, but she takes the flowers from her S/O and thanks them anyway. Tatiana is quite a softy when she's alone so when no ones looking (including her S/O) she's able to finally use a somewhat-expensive-vase that was the perfect size for the flowers, leaving them in her office. When her S/O comes up to her office, they seem them on the table while Tatiana admired them. Let's just say after that happened Tatiana and her S/O have an "argument" about who's the cutest one now in their relationship. 

Neon J

He finds it weird at first (regardless of his S/O's gender) Neon only acted like this not to hurt their feelings of course, but this was just something he wasn't used to. Time passed by until Neon grew flustered, but his S/O caught him read-handed, pulling him into a hug. Neon J admits it while hugging them back, no longer being able to hide it behind his tough exterior anymore.

Rin (1010)

Would be in complete shock. He thought it was supposed to be the other way around. The bouquet of camellia's where beautiful to his eyes though. He's quite flattered either way, (and very blushy) and doesn't know what to say or do. Being the emotional robot Rin was, he almost bursts into tears, but holds them in and brings his S/O in a bone crushing hug after snapping himself out of his shocked state.

Zimelu (1010)

His face is as bright as a lava lamp once he sees a bouquet of amaryllis's in his S/O's hands. He felt strange receiving flowers, but thankfully takes them into his hands with a quick thank you. He basically turns very tsundere. He won't admit it, but after he received the flowers, he immediately looks for a vase and got them all nice and pretty on his nightstand right by the window, admiring them.

Purl-Hew (1010)

Acts very tsundere receiving the flowers. They were gorgeous blue flowers. He tries to hide his blushing, bright cheeks, but fails miserably. He also tries to hide a growing smile on his face. If him and his S/O are alone, he'd hold them close and kiss them all over their face. Since he's too shy to speak at that moment, his actions spoke for him.

Haym (1010)

Knowing how Haym is receiving any gift from his S/O, he was a thrilled blushy boy after receiving the bouquet of blue violets. Yeah, they'll die eventually, but it's the meaning behind the flower and the thought that counts! Haym showers his S/O with affection after receiving them.

Eloni (1010)

Doesn't know how to react to the bouquet of pink roses. He was pretty shocked. His cheeks grew the brightest they've ever been, blinding their S/O's eyes slightly. He apologizes and says he can't help it with a giant smile on his face while picking up his S/O to take them to his room to shower then with affection.

DJSS

DJ's reaction was... not too pleasant at first. He acted like his egotistical self, but he was a bit more rude about it (cause of his masculinity, but he wouldn't tell his S/O that) He kept calling them simpleton, but not in a joking way like he usually would. This left his S/O saddened, feeling tears start falling down their eyes. They begin to walk away as the flowers plopped on the ground. After hearing them leave, DJ huffs, feeling bad that he reacted the way he did. He turns around in his chair to see the flowers on the ground. They were a mixture of colours just like the galaxy. DJ then realized he fucked up, getting up to grab the flowers and looked for his S/O. He felt his heart sink as he quickly grabbed his phone to call them. Not to get too personal or anything, but when his S/O picked up, DJ was already driving to their house to cater and love them to apologize for him being such an asshole. 

Kliff

This rat of a man acts quite tsundere. He acts like he's upset and despises the flowers, but truly he doesn't. He's always appreciated and loved plants, but he wouldn't tell his S/O that so they could embarrass him even more with their way of expressing their love and affection for him.

[villain-enthusiast]

TOUCH-STARVED HERO RAHH.

.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine, actually,” the hero muttered from their sloppy position on the ground, though the oozing gash slicing across their torso and the fresh bruises circling their throat said otherwise.

The villain arched a brow, crouching down so they were eye level with the hero. “Do you think I’m dumb?”

The hero glowered at them. “Seems like you're deaf, actually. I said I’m fine,” they snapped, even as pain shuddered through their battered body. “Now if you could just get out of my way—,”

“Darling, please. You couldn’t stand up even if you tried, let alone walk yourself halfway across the city to your apartment.” The villain smirked at the hero’s deepening scowl, but the teasing flair didn't quite reach their eyes. “Let me do you a small favor while I’m here, at least.”

The hero bared their teeth. “Fuck off. I don’t need your stupid healing powers. You'll probably turn this into one of your idiotic bargains—," A harsh coughing fit cut them off, rattling their chest.

They tasted blood on their tongue. Fuck.

“Gosh, so prideful." The villain sighed, tilting their head. "Oh look at that, you're bleeding." They lifted a hand and ran a thumb over their hero's lips, wiping away a smattering of blood that had spilled from their mouth.

The hero's breath hitched at the villain's touch, the smallest, most delicate of noises escaping them before they could stop themselves.

The villain paused, their brow furrowing as their gaze took in every little movement and detail of the hero's involuntary response.

The hero's jaw tightened. Every muscle in their body screamed at them to get away, but they couldn't move. Or was it that they didn't want to move? "Villain, I swear—,"

Then the villain’s hand was cupping their cheek, and the hero melted.

A desperate whimper tore from their throat, their head lolling into the cool touch of the villain's palm as all the pain and exhaustion radiating through their body suddenly evaporated.

They closed their eyes, feeling their face begin to burn with shame.

"Oh, sweetheart," the villain murmured. Their other hand swept through the matted strands of the hero's hair, working through the tangles.

The hero had to bite down on their lip so that they didn't make another embarrassing noise. So gentle. The villain's touch was so, so gentle. So at odds to their earlier opponent's strangling grip and blinding punches, so contrasting to gaping loneliness and helplessness of coming home to no one, of having to painfully stitch themselves up day after day after day...

The villain brushed away a tear that the hero didn't realize had fallen.

"Hey, look at me," the villain said softly, nudging their chin up. The hero blinked at them, fighting back a sob. "You need to let me heal you, okay? You're losing a lot of blood."

The hero swallowed, barely processing the villain's words, their brain entirely occupied by the hand still on their face—or maybe it was just the blood loss. "Yeah," they managed, voice hoarse. It felt like their vocal chords were coated in tar.

"I'm going to do your stomach first," the villain noted. "I need both my hands for this, alright?"

The hero nodded, ignoring the inevitable panic that shot through them at the sudden absence of the villain's touch, which returned almost immediately on the deep laceration on their lower torso.

The hero cringed, bracing for some kind of torturous, painful mending, but the villain's powers were warm, soft, like honey in a cup of hot tea or a crackling fireplace during a winter storm. God, how many years had it been since they'd felt so comforted?

A whimper escaped the hero once more. They tensed. Jesus fucking christ.

The villain cracked a smile as they worked. "Don't worry, love. You're not the first person I've healed that enjoys the feeling." They brushed a palm over the wound, weaving the hero's flesh and skin back together. "This is gonna scar, but at least you'll live to see another day, hm?"

The hero scoffed weakly, still drunk on the villain's magic.

The villain swept their hands over the hero's body, feeling for more damage. "Gosh, Hero," they hummed, "you get yourself into so much trouble, do so much for this pitiful city, and for what?" They placed their hands on the hero's battered neck, soothing the inflammation. "When's the last time someone took care of you?" they asked quietly, but the question seemed more for themselves than for the hero.

Several heartbeats passed before the villain pulled away, finished with their work. The hero couldn't stop themselves from chasing their touch, nearly toppling over.

The villain caught them before they hit the ground, chuckling. "Oh, what am I gonna do with you?"

The hero felt a lump form in their throat at the thought of the villain leaving. I'm not gonna make it home. Not without Villain. They squeezed their eyes shut, swallowing their pride. "Please," they whispered. "Take me home. All I ask."

"Don't need to ask me twice." The villain swept the hero up into their arms, smirking at their indignant (and exhausted) glare. "You're not walking, sorry. You're getting all my love and special treatment today." They winked, as if they were joking.

But as the villain paced their way to the hero's apartment, and as the hero began to fall asleep in their arms, they both knew it wasn't a joke.

[rileys-battlecats]

ain't no way the first bit of prose im inspired to write for mudpaw's story is centered around doveheart coming back from her mysterious journey away from camp

[candyheartedchy]

I think I just discovered a repressed fictional crush and I’m not sure how I should feel about it.

[bunnibombz]

18 year old college student Yuuji who brings home his, slightly older, friend Yuuta for a week on summer break.

Yuuta; who only two hours after they arrive and he meets you, Yuuji's stepmom, slides Yuuji some money and tells him to go a couple of blocks to grab snacks. The pink haired boy didn't think much of it, happily agreeing in his puppy dog way and sliding on his shoes before heading out.

He was gone maybe thirty minutes.

His housekey was pulled from the door and he was toeing his shoes off again when he sees you, bent over the kitchen island moaning and squealing as Yuuta stretches you out and fucks you into a drooling mess.

[threadbearsweater]

The first time you spend the night with Barou, you wake to a view of his bare, broad back as he sits on the edge of the bed. His shoulders flex as he stretches his arms above his head.

"What time is it?" you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

"Still early," he answers. His own voice is a quiet rumble; you feel it on your skin more than you hear it. It sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you rub your thighs together under the sheets, reminded of how it felt to hear his breath on your ear last night. "I'm going for a run."

That pulls a pout from your pretty mouth, and you reach out from under the covers to lay a hand between his shoulder blades. He's warm, firm, sturdy beneath your fingertips. "It's still dark," you protest weakly, knowing that it's not going to change his mind.

Barou turns his upper half and catches your hand in his, then kisses the inside of your wrist. "There's coffee in the kitchen. I'll be back before you know it."

Your tired smile almost breaks his resolve. Beautiful lover in his bed or not, he has a routine to stick to. And you love him for it.

"Bring me a bagel?" you say, watching him tie his hair into a makeshift bun. He nods once, one side of his mouth curling into some semblance of a smile. His eyes sparkle, though. You have your own habits, and he loves you for them.

"Yeah. See you soon."

You watch him go, then snuggle under the covers again, idly wondering what thread count his sheets are because they're the softest you've ever felt. When you wake again, the sun soaks into the room in orange and yellow beams, and Barou sits at your side with a paper bag with a suspiciously bagel-shaped treat inside.

[milfgyuu]

Wonwoo knows he can be a little aloof at times and he doesn’t mean to be. It’s just too easy to get lost in his head and his work so he really tries to focus on the little things. He refills your tea when it’s empty. Covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep on the couch, taking an extra minute to watch your even breathing and kiss your hair. He holds your hand in the car and he always touches you as he walks by, just to remind you that he’s here even when he’s not able to be fully present. There are short handwritten notes left all over the house. Some practical like “grabbing milk after work” and some more intimate like the one left stuck to the lamp on your bedside table, “I’ll be thinking about you all day. Dinner tonight, making reservations. I love you, xx” 🖤

[asexualjedi]

Still so iconic of Matt fraction to start his run like anyways off screen Clint and Kate who have met a few times before this run have become besties and are fundamentally now intertwined characters. Like and that’s just canon now. I think more comic writers should be willing to kinda just decide a new status quo like that especially with characters that have been under utilized

[desired-fantasy-writings]

Glass Joe Relationship Headcanons

Requested by: I forgor Warnings: None Readers Gender: Gender Neutral Fanfic Type: Headcanons Fanfic Genre: Fluff Word Count: 436

• Not to stereotype or anything, but Joe's such a gentlemen.

• Through out first meeting his S/O to dating them he's quite a wholesome man (cough).

• Does whatever he can to make his S/O the happiest possible.

• Joe doubts himself sometimes thinking his S/O would be better off with someone else more successful.

• But his S/O remindshim of how much they love him for who he really is, even if he may not be the best boxer in the WVBA, but he's got the heart and spirit of a true champ.

• Has a thing of leaning against his S/O wether they're taller or shorter then him.

• Joe pretty much coos out praise and nicknames in French toward his partner (doesn't matter if his S/O understands what he says or not, cause they'll most likely know what he's doing just by the tone of his voice alone).

• Joe's favourite spots to kiss his S/O are their hands, cheeks, and lips (sometimes the side of their neck if he's really feeling affectionate or wants attention, and gentle whispering against their ear.).

• Joe just loves taking his S/O to cafe's whenever they go on a date. The atmosphere is just so calming and nice, it's the perfect place to hang out!

• Joe and S/O talk for hours whilst eating bread, croissants, and wine.

• Joe's subtle on his teasing. Unlike Don and Tiger being absolute teases when they can be toward their S/O's, Joe does it when it really counts, and hits his  S/O hard, and it's an absolute joy for Joe to see their reaction every time.

• If his S/O wants to learn French from Joe, he'd be absolutely flattered to teach them (he would also blush really hard from them wanting to get closer to him this way).

• I can imagine a scenario were Joe's S/O walks up to him one day, thinking of what they wanted to say in French to him, something really romantic. They try to mutter out what they wanted to say in French and they end up messing up feeling too embarrassed to continue anymore. Joe's heart would just melt seeing them trying to attempt it. Even if he only understood like half of it, he knew what they were trying to say. Joe finds it absolutely adorable and so sweet praising them for their efforts.

• So what's Joe like around the other boxers with his S/O? Pretty much the same as when they're not around them (may or may not get more protective around his S/O when Aran Ryan's around, he doesn't trust him nor like him).

[aamputation]

The Villain Saves the Hero

⫷ PREVIOUS ⪡ ║║ ⪢ NEXT ⫸

Today is not one of their secret, scheduled parleys.

The sound of the heavy metal door swinging open is a surprise to them, but not an entirely unexpected one. The emergence of a new enemy is bound to sow seeds of discord, after all, as the resident Hero—and Arch Nemesis—has grown mostly familiar with their singular Villain's methodology. Different strategies are an inevitable challenge; it’s not abnormal that the Hero would presume collaboration between Villainous factions.

The Hero ought to know better by now that this Villain works alone, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Perhaps the Hero is simply out of depth, seeking comfort in the familiar. A foolish notion, but they’re more than willing to play their part and accommodate.

They straighten their spine, rolling their shoulders as they prepare to face their intruder.

"Well, well, well..."

The sound of their voice is appropriately menacing as they step out from the shadows cast by the large and varied equipment that make up the innermost scientific level of their Lair—a sanctum where they can come to be left alone with their thoughts and whirling mind. They have yet to fully cast their gaze to the doorway, the echoing footsteps of the interloper wavering and unsteady. There is no threat to be had here.

They feel no fear in this encounter.

Only smug satisfaction, knowing they’ve been sought out rather than hunted for once.

"It appears that the Hero," they spit the word as though it’s something foul upon their tongue, "has come crawling back to m–"

Their voice comes to a halt in their chest; the sight before them is wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

This. This is not right.

Horror spreads through their veins like parasitic vines, locking around that cold, dead heart in their chest.

They find themself moving, an automatic reaction, falling to their knees beside the prone, battered form of the Hero.

Their Arch-Nemesis.

Their Hero.

Black-gloved hands shake, hovering in the air inches from the Hero’s bloodied uniform, unsure if their touch would be welcome; wanting to do something but never having the luxury of being allowed to assist in such a way.

Villains don't help, after all.

"Wha– What happened to you?!" They sharpen their voice, despite the lowered volume: a feeble attempt to hide the fear threading through every word, to mask the quaver in their tone.

A Villain, worried for the Hero's health?

What a joke that would be.

The Hero coughs, an aerosol spray of blood misting the air with the action, leaving a nearly microscopic patina around pallid lips. A trickle of bright red seeps from the corner of the Hero's mouth as it curves up into a weak smile; pain-glazed, unfocused eyes turning up to meet the Villain's. A shaky, bloodstained, bruised, broken hand reaches up to press feather-light fingertips against the Villain's cheek as the Hero steadily holds their gaze. The Villain’s breath catches, their own eyes widening.

They are frozen, and cannot possibly look away.

"I- I couldn't stop him. He was too strong... I'm sorry..."

The Hero’s smile is so gentle, so kind. It speaks of forgiveness, of pain, and somehow, unfathomably, of trust. It hurts the Villain more than any blow the Hero has ever managed to land on them in the past six years they have been Nemeses in this city. A sharp inhale and a shudder has the Hero’s eyes—have they always been so luminous, so beautiful?—rolling back, startlingly long, dark eyelashes fluttering closed to rest against a pale, blood-spattered cheek. The soft stroke against the Villain's jaw is gone in milliseconds, as though the touch itself was only part of a dream; the sticky smear of blood left behind by mangled fingertips the only evidence such a gentle caress ever occurred at all.

The dull thud of that hand hitting the floor echoes louder than Notre Dame's bells inside the Villain's head.

No.

No no no nonononono!

"Hero?"

It's not commanding, it's soft—a plea. A desperate call for the universe to not do this horrible thing.

Please.

Shaking, gloved hands hesitate over the unmoving form of the Hero; always in motion, always foiling their plans, always fighting.

Following them around as they worked in their lab on some inconsequential project. Laughing full bodied with them over mugs of coffee after an impromptu breakfast. Teasing them and prodding them over their choices in movies and books. Fidgeting on the fire escape during emotional, late night conversations…

This is an unnatural stillness. 

It's not right.

Their gloved hands make contact.

"Hero, wake up!"

There's an undeniable tremor in their voice now, horror rising like the bile in their throat, nausea gripping their chest like the talons of a bird of prey.

Their eyes burn.

"Wake up!!"

The ‘please’ goes unsaid.

But the singular rolling wetness that finds its way down their cheek is enough of a statement in its own right.

Their fists clench as they try to focus, breathing deeply and compartmentalizing.

They get to work.

They are not one of the most brilliant minds of their generation for nothing; they have the skills to back it up.

Less than thirty minutes later, they stare at their emotionless visage reflected back at them in the glass of one of their rarely-used recovery tanks. Beyond it—behind the shatterproof, impenetrable tank glass—floats the Hero: safe, and steadily healing under their watchful monitoring.

A gloved hand rests on the glass, their body sagging against the tank. The Villain’s forehead gently collides against the transparent barrier with a thud.

They stare into the murky, glowing nutrient fluid, at the unmoving, unresponsive naked form of the Hero.

"... who did this to you..?"

The Villain's hands shake with rage, misplaced and boiling to the surface.

They exhale.

They'll get their answer when the Hero wakes.

And when they do, they'll bring the perpetrator to his knees.

Laugh when he begs for mercy.

They've discovered something about themself in this strange endeavor they've embarked on.

A good person would do the right thing, even if it meant sacrificing something they loved for the greater good. 

The needs of the many or whatever that bullshit rationale implies.

The Villain isn’t a good person.

They’re a Villain for a reason; such useless mentalities just get in the way of getting the job done.

They’ll keep their Hero safe on their terms. And if the world falls to pieces because of it?

Well.

The Villain will set fire to the world around them, but never shall those flames touch Their Hero.

They smile.

They wonder if this is what love feels like.

⫷ PREVIOUS ⪡ ║║ ⪢ NEXT ⫸

My designs for Villain and Hero found [ here ]

shout out to adornedwithlight for the reblog banner & barbed wire divider

[anghraine]

It feels extremely silly that only today did I realize that pantry and panadería are slightly similar-sounding for a reason >_>

(The English word pantry is one of the many, many common modern English words derived from Anglo-French: in this case, panetrie, from Old French paneterie, "bread room" ... Spanish panadería also has a complex etymology, but all are related to Latin panis, "bread.")

[motogp-museum]

Tag Navigation and Intro

Hi!! It's @kissingwalls (this is not a side blog though)

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Rider filtered by year

To find the rider's posts from a specific year, type their initials, rider number, a colon, a space, and then the year into the search bar. For example mm93: 2013 (there are a couple of people I haven't done this for, so check their main tag first)

Here are a few common ones :) (i would put them all but the link limit is humbling me)

Vale:

vr46: 2013

vr46: 2014

vr46: 2015

vr46: 2016

Dani:

dp26: 2011

dp26: 2012

dp26: 2013

dp26: 2014

dp26: 2015

Jorge L:

jl99: 2011

jl99: 2012

jl99: 2013

jl99: 2014

jl99: 2015

Marc:

mm93: 2012

mm93: 2013

mm93: 2014

mm93: 2015

mm93: 2016

Ships (romantic/ platonic/ familial)

Some of these are just people who are together a lot.

pedrenzo

rosquez

team tiny

vr26 riders academy

Jorge/Pecco

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espargabros

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lucalex

dovquez

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bikes: year (eg. bikes: 2015)

the ranch

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type: gif

type: picture

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laguna seca

indy

mandalika

chang

red bull ring

Circuit with year

You can also search by circuit: year (eg. catalunya: 2015). Just make sure you put a space after the colon. Unless the post said where it was though, I did not put a location tag.

----------

Intro:

(i'll just put it at the bottom so i remember to delete it)

I have been hoarding all of these (there are like 1000 more in my draft and queue lol) for a while now in my draft bc even tho they are like 3 note gifs, they are historical artefacts to meeee.

Anyway, I've got a cold, and so to occupy myself, I decided to just make a blog so that everything can be organised and easy (ish, this is tumblr after all) to find!

I know heaps of my fellow ✨motogp tumblrinas ✨have made archives for their favs, and you are all braver than me, bc I would lose all the gifs immediately if I tried to create new archival posts. So I just reblogged everything and am going to hope for the best in terms of copyright lol

But yeah, these aren't just my favs. This is more just a snapshot of the fandom at different periods. I only reblogged the deactivated ones, but, y'all, use the posts as little gateways to blogs from that time period, it is FACINATING.

As always, peer review is welcome! If i completely messed up a tag (very likely, since i used the mass tag editor), you're welcome to let me know. Also if there's a ship tag, fun tag or something you want me to add in the mass tag editor, lemme know! more than happy to add literally anything ✨✨

I only started this today, so it's very much a work in progress! All the things without a link are because the posts that match up with them are in the queue. I also need to add the ones i forgot

[lorelune]

i think i an finally healed enough to directly reference the events that occurred in the first six months of 2021 to me within this niche

[chibigikochin]

Just realised Hiccup and Jack Frost as a ship fall into the trope of double identity preternatural dude W white/pale hair obsessed with a normal dude that gets pulled into his bs because of it that's so common in Japanese media cuz of Ryokira from Devilman by Go Nagai.

You could basically make a hijack au of any piece of Japanese media that adopts the Ryokira relationship dynamic and they would fit.

I'm about to fall down a plotbunny hole I haven't gone down since I was 13.

[sdcrevolver]

Oughhhh sorry I would draw but I have Swat Kats on the brain right now… T-Bone and Razor my beloveds but you’re kinda hard to draw… the best I can do is just yap about them (and my AU somewhat) in the tags. This post is more for me if you see this and think I’m going off the rails then whoopsies

[lapislaprima]

It all began in a small flower shop tucked away on an obscure side street of Mondstadt, where foreign flowers from distant lands were sold.

Few people ventured down this street, which allowed the shop’s owner the luxury of a slow-paced routine. Today was no different. A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, stirring the young woman’s hair as she absentmindedly stared into the distance.

Outside, Venti lingered by the transparent window, his curious gaze fixed on the daydreaming shop owner. He often passed this shop, his interest piqued more and more with each visit. Was it the exotic flowers that drew him in? Or was it the reserved, shy shopkeeper who seemed perpetually lost in her own world? When asked, he would simply shrug and say it was the calming atmosphere that made him return.

He chuckled softly at the sight of her sleeping face, recognizing that she had dozed off while writing again. Venti knew little about the mysterious flower seller, but one detail stood out: her passion for writing. She always carried a blue notebook bound with golden laces, and he often noticed her ink-stained fingers—evidence of her habit of becoming so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even notice the mess she made.

Taking a deep breath, Venti reached for the silver doorknob and opened the door with a gentle swing. A soft chime from the tiny golden bell above the door announced his entrance. The sound startled the shopkeeper awake, and she let out a surprised yelp, her wide eyes darting around in confusion. Realizing where she was, she immediately began tidying her cluttered table, shoving crumpled pages and her notebook into a drawer in a flurry of movement.

From the counter, she gave a flustered “Welcome,” her voice barely above a whisper.

Venti pretended to browse the shop, letting her regain her composure. The room was filled with an array of vibrant flowers, some familiar, others foreign, their colors blending into a kaleidoscope of beauty. His soft footsteps echoed in the quiet space as the shopkeeper anxiously scrubbed at the dried ink on her hands with her apron.

“Please excuse my behavior,” she finally said, stepping out from behind the counter. “How can I help you today?”

Venti turned to face her, noting the nervous smile on her lips. “Did I wake you from an interesting dream?” he asked instead of answering, his playful grin betraying his amusement.

The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, her mind flitting back to the pleasant dream she had just been pulled from—a dream so perfect she felt a pang of disappointment upon waking, though she couldn’t recall the details. “No, of course not,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Please don’t worry about that.”

Venti chuckled, watching her flustered response. He was about to tease her further when he added, “Actually, I’m just looking around. To be honest, I don’t have a single Mora on me.”

Her confusion was evident. “Excuse me? You don’t have any money?”

He laughed again, as carefree as ever. “Nope! I don’t own a single Mora. But when I do get some, I’d spend it on dandelion wine!” He said this with such pride that she couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief.

“I see... Did you leave your money at home, then?” she asked hesitantly, her voice gentle but uncertain.

Her question sent him into another fit of laughter. “No, I mean I don’t own any at all,” he replied cheerfully. “But don’t worry about me. You’re talking to the best bard in all of Mondstadt! I make my living through music!”

As Venti launched into an animated description of his “skills,” he paused to glance at her, expecting awe or excitement. Instead, he was met with confusion and mild panic. “Sir,” she interrupted softly, “this is a flower shop.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“Hehe. I know.”

She sighed, returning to her seat behind the counter. Though he was technically a customer, she doubted he had any intention of buying flowers, so she decided to give him his space.

For a while, the only sounds were Venti’s quiet footsteps and her soft breathing. The silence didn’t bother her, but the bard found it stifling. Finally, he broke it.

“It’s Venti,” he said suddenly, not turning to face her.

The shopkeeper blinked, puzzled. “Pardon?”

“My name,” he clarified, turning around with a grin. “It’s Venti. It’s good to know the names of the customers who’ll visit often.”

With that, he headed toward the door. His hand rested on the knob as he turned back one last time.

“And what’s your name, Miss Flower Shop Girl?”

“Maybe I'll tell you during your next visit.” she replied with a small smile.

The golden bell chimed as he left, disappearing down the street. Venti made a mental note to bring Mora next time. After all, he fully intended to return.