ot 6 what you send them and what they send you when on tour! ☆
warnings ! MDNI every link is pornography DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18.
other ! requests OPEN ! feel free to request whatever you want just please make sure to read this post HERE ! before requesting !
taglist - @1007-human , @seonghwaswifeuuuu, @choxochip, @jiungs-wednesdaygirl , @xxxykvv, @louis4sho
warnings: smut, pussy eating, needy!theo, not proof read
“theo, baby,” you whisper.
you run your fingers down the length of his neck, practically drooling at the sight of his adam’s apple as it bobs from your touch.
he grabs your hand, planting sweet kisses to each knuckle. “bella,” he whispers back, guiding you to his lap. “i missed you,” it wasn’t long before your lips were on his, tasting him feverishly as he rolls your hips onto his growing bulge, groaning.
“‘missed you more,” you exhale shakily.
due to studies and detentions, life has brought you two apart. you’ve been too busy trying to figure out whatever nonsense professor snape has thrown your way, and theo’s friend group keeps getting him into trouble. usually, detentions don’t bother him. but right now? it’s keeping him away from the one thing that keeps him sane.
you.
he touches you as if he were starved. his hands hungrily roaming over your curves, squeezing the firm globes of your ass. “no, cara mia, i really missed you.” theo’s breath is hot against your neck, nipping at the sensitive space below your ear.
it’s hard to respond coherently. you’ve been so used to your own hand that you’ve forgotten the way the friction of his lap felt beneath your core. when he bucks his hips up, you can’t help but tremble into his mouth. “i need you so badly, theo.” you whine, unbeknownstly pressing your tits against his chest.
“fuck,” his voice breaks, your plea sending a thrill straight to his cock.
his hands travel beneath your shirt, greedily groping your breasts as his lips attack your neck, nipping the flesh and soothing it over with his skillful, but tauntingly slow tongue. “stop teasing and take my shirt off,” you huff, frustration hitting you as you grind yourself against him. it’s been too long for him to take his time with you. you need him, and you need him now.
“ragazza avida,” theo smriks, running his calloused thumbs over your nipples, hardening the buds before discarding your top. you don’t care where it lands, but you know you’ll find it somewhere stupid like the lamp shade again.
he grabs your ass; abruptly, needily standing, pressing you against the hard planes of his body while his tongue dives into your mouth. your arms to tighten around his neck, your legs wrapping around his waist, and kissing him with a fervor you didn’t know you possessed. “do you know how miserable i’ve been without you?” he grunts, throwing you onto the bed and stripping himself as quickly as he can. “take those off. now.” theodore commands, gesturing toward your pants.
nodding, you oblige, wanting needing him just as badly as he needs you. as you rid yourself of your pants, he climbs onto the bed, stopping you before you can do the same with your underwear. “please,” he whimpers, not caring about the dominance stripping from his tone. “please, bellissima,” he spreads your legs open, his nose pressing against the lacy fabric. “keep your legs—yes, yes, just like that…”
the way your body reacts to his begging is almost pathetic. you throw your head back, arching to his touch. “do something, theo,” you whine, wet to the point it physically hurts.
and like that, he pools your panties down to your ankles, ogling at the sight of your damp pussy. he takes no time before dipping his tongue between your folds, a finger coming to pump in and out of your aching hole as he moans into your sex.
you grip his messy brunette hair, holding his head still as you grind yourself against his nose. “mhm,” theo hums, his eyebrows contorting into a state of pure bliss. balancing on his biceps, he brings his forearms under your legs, pushing you farther against him. “‘m all yours, bella. abuse my mouth—please, i want you to.” he whines, flicking his tongue rapidly against your clit.
“s-shit!” you whimper, squeezing his head with your shaky thighs as your eyes glue shut. “fuck—theo, that feels so good! please, please don’t stop. i’m so close already—‘ve needed you so badly, baby.”
he groans, a pathetic, needy sound from deep within his throat. he’s had his tongue plunged deep inside of you many of times, but each time he swears is better than the last. whimpers toll from his lips as he feels you quiver around his tongue, and he finds himself grinding into the mattress. he’s determined to make you cum, not once, but as many times as he can.
his thirst hasn’t been quenched for so long.
you feel something snap as his tongue plunges into you, his nose deliciously rubbing against your swollen clit. “tastes so good,” he says almost to himself, sucking at your pussy. “squirt in my mouth,” he whines, dragging a stripe up your sex until his tongue attacks your sweet spot. “you can do it, bella, please—‘need you.”
and you could do it, because you did, over and over for the rest of the night. theo had you arched against a pillow for hours, hands groping your thighs as he took your body and drowned himself in the essence between your legs.
because that’s just where he wanted to be, and he’d stay there as long as you let him, because he’s addicted to you.
Summary: Your boyfriend of two months begs you to stay the night with him not knowing how extremely nervous you are to cuddle with him for the first time.
Pairing: Taeyang x reader
Genre: Fluff, slice of life, a tiny bit suggestive at the end but literally nothing major
Word count: 1.4k
Author's note: I need taeyang cuddles and I NEED IT NOW
—
“I’m not letting you drive home in the rain."
Taeyang tugs—actually pulls and all but drags—you away from where you are clutching the door handle for dear life.
Your hand slips from it and now you're sliding across the tiled floor as he hauls you further back into his apartment. It doesn't take much for you to surrender to his plight—your bag slips from your shoulder down to the floor and you let go of your shoes too.
He’s grinning from ear to ear when you turn back to face him and although you roll your eyes, your own lips start to turn up as well. You whisper his name once more half-heartedly, your last hidden attempt at giving him an out in case for some reason he changed his mind about wanting you to stay the night.
He drags you all the way to his bedroom door and takes each of your hands in his. He clutches them tightly and holds them low in the space between you, practically rocking back and forth on his feet from the adrenaline coursing through his blood.
“Please, stay. I really don't want you to drive, especially this late, it’s dangerous.”
You take one playfully step away from him as his grip on your hands tighten, and he looks at you with such round, hopeful eyes, you almost cave in, but your nerves hold you back.
“I only live ten minutes away…”
He lessens the gap between you until your feet are brushing and he whispers so close, you can feel his breath mixing with yours, “Ten minutes too far.”
You bite back your smile as he leans in to press a firm kiss to your lips that draws it out. A laugh escapes you and he kisses you through that too until you feel woozy and like your knees might give out from under you.
“Come on… You’re tired, too,” he pleads while knocking your foreheads together once.
“Are you sure it’s okay?”
His whole face scrunches at your question. “Am I supposed to act like I haven't been thinking about this for weeks?”
A soft heat settles across your face and to distract from it you lightly slap his arm, trying and failing to disguise how pleased you are by him.
He notices—ofc course he does—and reaches an arm back to blindly open his door and lead you in, his eyes never leaving yours.
The second your feet cross the threshold of his door; those familiar butterflies begin fluttering around in your stomach. You’ve been in his room before once when he first gave you a tour of his space, but never like this—to spend the night.
He lets go of your hands and you shuffle on your two feet, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you contemplate what you should do next. You watch as he opens his closet, plucking a few things out, before stepping back over to you. He holds his clothes out to you and you take them with confusion.
Sensing your uncertainty, he says, “They're for you to sleep in… unless you want to sleep in those.”
You look down at your baggy jeans and top and grimace before meeting his eyes again with a grateful smile. He takes you to his bathroom to get changed before gesturing to the bottom drawer under the sink.
“There's a new toothbrush in that drawer.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Why do you have a new toothbrush on standby?”
“Incase you ever wanted to stay over,” he says so casually as if that one simple sentence wasn't enough to have you swooning and your heart soaring. He quickly pecks you before closing the door and leaving you with your hysteria.
You stand there for a moment, holding his clothes to your chest as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. Okay, this is fine. I’m fine, everything is good, you try to convince yourself despite the tremble in your hands as you slip off your own shirt and replace it with his. His scent envelopes you, calming your nerves a fraction.
You slip on the sleep pants he’s given you as well and quickly brush your teeth before you press your palms flat against the counter and lean forward, forcing yourself to take slow breaths. You splash your still warm cheeks with a bit of cold water before straightening and reaching for the door handle. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat, but you pull open the door anyway.
The lights are off save for the lamp on the side table; Taeyang is lying on the bed, his phone illuminating his face. The second he sees you, he turns the phone off and tosses it somewhere behind him on the bed to give you his full attention. His eyes slowly take you in and he smiles.
It’s so soft, and tender, and warm; a whole new wave of heat rushes to your face and you wish you could run back into the bathroom and douse your skin with cool water. You stop in the middle of the room, your fingers twisting together in front of you, knotting and unknotting to release any bit of jitterness in your body.
He notices and shifts to his back and reaches both his arms up toward you, making the most ridiculous grabby hands for a man his age—you can’t believe this is who you’re nervous to get in bed with.
A surprised laugh escapes you to ease some of the tension in your shoulders which you suspect is part of his plan. It works because you find yourself moving towards him more willingly until your knees are pressing into the mattress beside him. His hand finds your wrist and he gently guides you down until you are lying pressed against his side, your head resting on his outstretched arm.
The moment you fully settle he curls it around you. You’re hyper-aware of everything. Of every inch of his skin pressed against yours and of the steady rise and fall of his chest.
You try not to pull your full weight on him despite the ache already forming in your neck, not wanting to be the cause of his arm falling asleep. He exhales, long and deep, a sigh of relief while you lie there in the silence, your hand cradled to your chest, unsure of what to do with them. Your heart is hammering so hard, you pray he can’t feel it.
When his thumb starts moving against your arm you stiffen more but then after a while, some of the tension bleeds from you. Then his other hand moves to your knee to guide your leg up and over his lap until your thigh is draped over him. A breath catches in your throat that you hold as he settles and slides his hand back under his head.
You lie there like you’re in a game of freeze-tag and the prize is a million dollars, not moving an inch. His breathing starts to even out and all you can do is count the seconds between each exhale, three… four… five… si—
“Honey… you can breathe normally.”
It rushes out of you in a shaky exhale—you didn’t even realize you were holding it in your frenzied state. You cringe at yourself because Why’m I getting nervous cuddling at my grown age— but he silences any intrusive thoughts.
“Just relax,” he murmurs into your ear. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
You’re okay.
You close your eyes and focus on breathing. Your body gradually sinks deeper into him, the frantic beat of your heart slowing. Eventually you test the waters and uncurl one hand from your chest and smooth it flat across his stomach, slyly peeking at him above you. He makes a noise, a small and content hum that sets something inside you alight.
You feel his fingers slide over and between yours, pressing your palm more firmly against his stomach, and that’s what does it. The last of the tension releases and you try to press closer, though it’s impossible. Your eyelids grow heavy until your breathing finally matches his, and just after his lips brush your forehead, you slip completely under.
And Taeyang lies there in the dark, staring hard at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight as he repeats the words like a mantra:
Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard.
He squeezes his eyes shut and hopes that sleep will take him soon, or else it’s going to be a long night.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You didn’t have to knock him off his broom, you absolute prat!” I snapped, my voice echoing off the stone walls of the corridor.
Theodore Nott leaned casually against the cold, grey wall, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. His dark eyes glimmered with mischief, and he made no move to hide the satisfaction in his expression.
Students passing by shot glances in our direction, whispers trailing in our wake like smoke. I barely noticed. I was late for class—Transfiguration, if anyone cared—but honestly, I didn’t give a fig. Professor McGonagall would let me off. She always did. I was her favourite, after all.
“I mean, really, Theodore,” I said, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Knocking Cedric Diggory off his broom because… what? He looked at me too long?”
Theo shrugged, entirely too nonchalant. “Exactly that. He was staring. I didn’t like it. Problem?”
I let out a loud, incredulous laugh. “You do realise how utterly ridiculous you sound, don’t you?”
“Call me Theodore again,” he said, his smirk widening like he’d just scored a point in some invisible game.
I rolled my eyes. “Honestly—”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, sweetheart,” he interrupted smoothly, leaning a fraction closer.
I bit my lip, suppressing a groan. “Enough, Theod—Theo,” I corrected myself, not wanting to get dragged into his usual verbal sparring.
“You’re so adorable when you’re cross,” he said, tilting his head, dark eyes glinting with amusement. “My little Hufflepuff.”
I bristled. “I’m not your anything, Nott.”
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk only growing. “Ooh, so now we’re on first-name terms. Progress.”
“Will you just shut up?” I snapped, though my voice carried a touch more weariness than real anger.
“Suits you, amore,” he said with mock fondness, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve really got to get to class, but… for the love of Merlin, just leave Cedric alone, okay?”
Theo’s brow quirked, and he repeated the name slowly, like tasting a rare wine. “Ced,” he said casually.
“Cedric,” I corrected, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“There we go,” he murmured, lips twitching into another small, infuriating smirk.
“It doesn’t matter,” I muttered, turning sharply and striding toward the Transfiguration classroom.
“It sure does!” he called after me, his voice echoing down the corridor.
I scoffed again, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
He was so infuriating. Always had been. Who did he think he was, getting jealous over me like this? He couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to. Not anymore.
Yet, as much as I wanted to scowl at him from afar, I couldn’t quite shake the way my chest tightened at the sight of him—smug, insufferable, maddeningly confident Theodore Nott.
----
“Mate, stop staring,” Mattheo muttered, rolling his eyes as he leaned lazily against the cool, green-and-silver walls of the Slytherin common room. The firelight flickered across his smirk, though there was a faint edge of amusement in it.
Theo Nott didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed across the room, sharp and calculating, on the figure twirling gracefully in the glow of the chandeliers.
Y/n.
And she wasn’t alone. Cedric Diggory, golden-haired and impossibly charming as ever, had her laughing, spinning her around with a carelessness that made Theo’s jaw tighten. It was harmless, of course. To her. But to Cedric, Theo knew, it was different. There was more than just friendship there—a closeness that Theo couldn’t stomach seeing.
“Who bloody invited him?” Theo finally spat, voice low and dangerous as he took a slow sip of his drink, careful to keep his composure.
Mattheo raised a brow, tilting his head with lazy curiosity. “Diggory? Probably Pansy,” he said with a shrug, as if it explained everything. His smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know how she is—always trying to stir something up.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed. “Pansy, Pansy, Pansy… she’s got no idea what she’s messing with.” His voice was cold, controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “It’s not a game, Mattheo. That boy… that Hufflepuff…” He gritted his teeth, the words almost catching in his throat. “He doesn’t belong in my sight when it comes to her.”
Mattheo chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Relax, Theo. It’s just a dance.”
Just a dance?
It wasn't just a dance.
Theo’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t reply, though his mind churned like a storm. Every laugh, every twirl, every glance Cedric dared to steal—Theo felt it all. It was unfair, irrational even, and yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
From across the room, Draco, Blaise, and Pansy lounged in various states of boredom and amusement, their whispers occasionally carrying snippets of commentary that Theo deliberately ignored. He didn’t need their approval—or their interference.
His hands tightened around his glass, the amber liquid sloshing slightly, and he finally muttered under his breath, almost to himself, “She’s mine. She always was. And no bloody Hufflepuff’s going to change that.”
Mattheo gave him a sidelong glance, smirking knowingly. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it, mate. But then again… that’s you.”
Theo’s jaw clenched, but a small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps. But the dance wasn’t over, and neither was his claim.
--
“You wear that for him?”
The words cut through the quiet corridor like a blade, making me stumble back a step and gasp.
I had gone outside the party, escaping into the dorm hallway for a moment of air, a reprieve from the heat, the music, the laughter. From Cedric. From Theo. From those impossible, familiar eyes that always seemed to find me, no matter where I tried to hide.
The corridor was empty—or so I thought.
“I—hm?” I murmured softly, spinning around to meet him, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Theo Nott stood there, just a few feet away, his dark eyes sharp and calculating, dangerous and familiar all at once. The same eyes I had once adored, the same eyes that had ended everything that night, leaving me raw, empty, and aching in a way I’d never thought possible.
“Diggory. The skirt. It’s short,” he said sharply, his gaze piercing. “You wear it for him?”
“No…” I trailed off, my voice smaller than I intended. My stomach knotted, and my fingers curled into the folds of my dress.
“Oh, really?” He raised a brow, dark and unnerving. “Then who?”
I swallowed hard, the answer hanging in the air before I dared to whisper it: “You.”
He didn’t answer at once. Just stood there, brow raised, silent, like he was weighing something too heavy to say.
“Thought you quit,” I said, nodding toward the cigarette dangling between his fingers.
“I did,” he replied, shrugging with a casualness I knew was nothing but a mask.
I frowned. “Can I have one?”
He glanced at me, surprised. “Since when do you smoke?”
“Since we broke up,” I said lightly, shrugging, trying to appear indifferent, though my chest ached. Since reminds me of you. Since smells like you. Since keeps me from going mad thinking of you. The words caught in my throat before I could say them. I couldn’t let him know how close I still felt, how painfully close.
“Well… you’re quitting,” he said sharply, voice cutting through the stillness of the corridor.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped, feeling a shiver crawl up my spine, cold seeping through my skin.
He just shrugged. “Just did.”
“You broke up with me, Theodore.” My voice cracked, raw with anger and hurt, the tears I’d been holding back pricking at the corners of my eyes.
“I did.” He exhaled slowly, almost quietly. “But… you’re still quitting.”
“You don’t get to do that,” I hissed, fists tightening at my sides, shaking with frustration and sorrow. “You don’t get to get jealous, get protective, get possessive… like you even care—”
“I do care,” he cut me off, sudden and sharp, throwing the cigarette to the stone floor and grinding it out with his heel. His voice was low, raw, desperate, and I could see the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “I do.”
Then rage, heartbreak, and confusion collided inside me, leaving me trembling. “Then why?” I demanded, voice rising despite the cold creeping into my bones. “Why did you leave me? Why now? Why—why do this to me?”
“I had to!” he shouted, the words echoing down the empty corridor. “I wasn’t… good enough for you, and you know it!”
“You are enough for me, Theo!” I cried, the tears spilling freely now, burning paths down my cheeks. “You’re everythingI need. You always have been.”
“I don’t know how to do the… boyfriend stuff,” he admitted quietly, voice cracking with the weight of his own guilt and shame.
“But you do, Theo,” I said, stumbling a step closer, heart pounding so hard I thought he could hear it. “You brought me flowers, kissed me when I least expected it, made me laugh when I felt like I’d never smile again—you…”
“That’s not enough,” he scoffed, shaking his head, voice bitter. “You want more, and I… I made you cry. I hurt you, mi amore. That’s not fair. I can’t… I can’t do that to you anymore.”
“But I love you,” I said, my voice breaking in two, raw and desperate. “I don’t care about anything else, I just… I just want you. I need you.”
“I love you too,” he whispered, voice caught, almost tender, almost breaking me open with hope. And for a brief moment, my heart soared. Perhaps this meant something. Perhaps there was a way back. Perhaps he would stay.
I imagined it—the small morning kisses, the warmth of him sitting beside me at breakfast, laughter spilling between us in the Great Hall. The hope made my chest ache, a tender, sharp kind of ache.
Then he swallowed hard, wiping at a stray tear, and all that hope drained like water from my hands.
“But… I’m not good enough for you,” he said, the words heavy and final.
Not good enough.
The words fell into my chest like stones, crushing every ounce of hope, leaving a hollow ache that seemed to expand inside me.
“I never will be. You need to accept it. We… we can’t be together.”
And with that, he turned away, the faint click of his shoes against the stone floor echoing in the empty corridor. Leaving me frozen, trembling, alone.
I sank to the floor, my hands covering my face, sobbing quietly, the hurt so raw it burned. My mind was a tangle of confusion, heartbreak, and longing. The jealousy. The guilt. The desire. It all swirled together, cruel and unforgiving.
My chest ached. My stomach churned. My heart… my heart felt empty, hollow, as if it had been ripped out entirely and left to bleed in the cold Hogwarts hallway.
I had loved him. I still did. And now… I didn’t know if I could survive the ache of knowing he didn’t think he was enough for me
hiii i hope ur doing well ! i adoreee ur works esp ur piwon ones and so i was wondering if i could request friends to lovers w p1h ? 🥹 im sorry its so vague 😭 u can go in any direction u want w this HAHA
⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ FRIENDS TO LOVERS WITH PIWON 🧸ྀི
[ extras ] wc varies 530-600 per member. in general, kissing, pet names, and some swearing there and here. and more specific: intak — he's very clueless bc of mixed signals and assumptions lmao (needs a warning). theo — mention of periods, mention of drunk grinding lol
ੈ✩‧₊˚ notes ! i could simply sort them 3 members per scenario and call it a day. but i like to make myself suffer so i went for different tropes of friends to lovers, i hope you like it! i do apologize for the long wait … ;^
@fish-and-cake-net ゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ @kstrucknet
┆彡 KEEHO [ 기호 ] — fake dating
it was keeho's idea – yechan teased him about being single for so long, which lead keeho to leave his brother speechless during his summer stay at home
and you, being his bestie, were the only reasonable choice. obviously you agreed because let's do it for the plot, duh!
you decided to try it out before the monthly stay at keeho's home. and it was all shits and giggles, you made kissy noises at each other. besides, you were used to being close. cuddling to sleep or holding hands was normal for you.
(you even managed to convince your friends that you're dating. theo said something along the lines of "finally…" and you just winked at each other).
when you arrived at his house, yechan was indeed speechless. keeho's arm was draped around you and your hand was resting in the back pocket of his jeans. you clung to each other like glue, keeho sneaking kisses on your cheek and glared at yechan afterwards.
even his parents were shocked! you two looked so cute together, they gushed. and your gaze just lingered on keeho two heartbeats longer – you could get used to that…
a week passes by and yechan asks, genuinely curious, why you never kiss. are you just shy? and keeho replies, yes. but deep down his heart pangs. what it would feel like to kiss you? your lips seem so pretty… and kissable…
so he brings it up one day when you're chilling on the porch, cold drinks freezing on the table.
"i don't mind as long as you want to. i know this might… cross a line in our relationship" you whisper, careful for yechan not to hear. keeho nods, way too fast than he'd like to admit. "fine, pretty boy. let's make your brother feel like a loser. i just… need to prepare myself mentally, if that's fine"
(he's not sure what made him grin like a fool: the nickname or the will to bring his brother down)
during that one month of faking your relationship with keeho, you start to notice more intimate touches. secret glances. kisses on the cheek dangerously close to your lips.
and one day you can't handle it anymore — when he was teasing you about something, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, taking him by surprise. ("what a way to shut him up, good job! please do it more often!" yechan laughed somewhere in the distance). keeho kissed you back, melting into your touch.
you leaned away, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his, feeling like burning from shyness if you even looked at him.
"kyo… i'm not sure if i can pretend any longer" you whispered shakily. "you treat me way too good. i won't find anyone as kind and loving as you…"
and he just smiled, placing his hands on top of yours.
"let's stop pretending" keeho murmured and your eyes shot open, scared. "i'm sure we convinced yechan. duh, even my whole family. y/n, please… let's turn this into reality. i think… i developed real feelings. besides, we just make such a power couple, like c'mon."
(later on — like a year into your relationship — you tell yechan. his ego boosted through the roof… "it's all thanks to me. no need to be grateful but i accept gratitude in cash!")
┆彡 INTAK [ 인탁 ] — misunderstanding (?)
intak was your friend from your group at uni and you hit it off immediately, becoming besties in no time
he'd always sit with you, gossip, walk you home… and you went on studying dates, cafe hopping. homework? you shared it, same with notes. any project upcoming? you two always were a pair.
same with food (and basically every pen, notebook, bookmark…): what was yours, was his. it was normal for you to bring two sandwiches for each one of you. intak would take a bite of his apple and then offer it to you. at one point, he purely relied on you with food, with his extra dance classes taking all his energy.
once, when you were feeding him as he revised before an exam, keeho fake gagged. "you're such a gross couple, like get a room…"
and just when you were to protest you're not a couple, jiung chimed in.
"for real! also, no shade y/n, but can you chill out with the dates? we also want your boyfriend for ourselves" he joked but your hand froze mid-air (and mid-bite for intak).
"dates?" you asked, blinking. "boyfriend?"
"you're… not dating?" keeho frowned, sensing some miscommunication. intak clearly told them you're a couple. unless…
"we're not? i thought… it's like. natural?" intak almost choked on his food, seeing shock on your face. "no dumb fake "will you be my girlfriend officially" bullshit… i… i thought… you bringing me food and, well, holding you so close… i… i thought it's kind of unspoken and…"
sure, you never kissed nor did he ask you that question. you did share an awful lot of close physical contact, blurring the lines between friendship and romance. like when he held you in his arms to sleep… or when you jokingly bit him…
it just came so naturally, you never thought about it either but… you wouldn't have thought… intak would think… you're a couple. but the idea of being his girlfriend didn't seem… bad. nothing would change, really. you just… didn't… consider it as a possibility and—
"y/n?" intak asked, clearly panicking. keeho and jiung exchanged shocked and stressed looks. 'intak, you idiot!' keeho just cursed mentally at the stupidity of his friend.
"so when… did we start dating?" you asked slowly, unsure how to phrase your words.
"in my mind… two months ago?" intak rose his eyebrows. you just smacked his arm, uncontrollable laughter escaping your throat.
"so all those… times we hung out… were dates? me keeping your boy friends away?" you asked, amused. he nodded shyly. "you like me more than a friend?"
"well, duh" his eyes widened. it's been almost a year since you met and—
"i guess… let me be clear for no more misunderstandings. i am your girlfriend." you started.
"you are?" intak asked, voice small. he was getting more and more confused.
"intak!" you huffed, trying to mask your happiness. "do you want me or not?"
"yes!" he blurted out immediately.
"then i am. officially." you smiled sneakily and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. he blushed hard, barely listening to your next words. "let's just take it slow, it needs to grow on me…"
┆彡 TAEYANG [ 태양 ] — childhood friends to lovers
you and theo knew each other ever since you were born. with your moms being besties, you grew up almost glued to each other. kindergarten, elementary school, high school… living in the same neighborhood…
you and theo knew each other like the back of your own hands. you shared everything, understood each other without words. such a bond could only be formed by years and years of spending time together, knowing the tiniest details about the other.
(you didn't know but your parents shipped you ever since they knew they will be having babies. may or may have not signed you up to everything together on purpose. every. single. time.)
it came to a point where you would live with them for two weeks… or he would sleep over for a week! his house was your and vice versa.
things got complicated when you went to different unis, taeyang majoring in music and you something else. he knew he wouldn't handle being far away from you for months so despite being able to apply everywhere with his good marks, he purposefully chose the same city as you
and, oh so conveniently, of course you decided to rent a small flat together to save up money!
when uni started, much didn't change. besides not sharing classes anymore, theo would still walk you to uni. make groceries with you. go on study dates… cuddle you when you had trouble falling asleep… make your laundry…
once, on a girl date with your new uni friends, someone said: "you and your boyfriend are so adorable! i wish mine would wait for my classes to finish". and then you realized: all you and theo do cross the lines of strictly platonic friendship.
(given that you went to prom together, have wallpapers of each other. hell! you even kissed once or twice and drunkenly grinded against each other…)
but it all just seemed so right with him. he was a natural gentleman, no?
so you decided to ask him, once home. he was making dinner, his study notes all over the counter. you even back hugged him, scared to face him.
"taeyang, do you… do this… for every girl?" you asked quietly. thinking about it, he never even had a girlfriend! his laugh made you shake due to the proximity. then he answered so naturally as if talking about weather.
"y/n, silly. no. it's always been you. everything i do is all for you, only. i've loved you since i was eight, idiot"
you halted, whole world crashing. he did? even when you ugly cried in his arms after watching romantic dramas? even when your period stained through your pants? even… when you had a boyfriend for half a year?
"took you some time to notice" he chuckled to himself, slowly turning around and placing his hands on your shoulders. "do you want to give me a chance, y/n?"
you considered your options. frankly speaking, you did love him. you were always jealous of any girl coming a little too close by… or even felt possessive at times.
"i promise i'll give you the world. i'm so deeply in love, it's driving me crazy that you're so close to me yet so far" he whispered, knowing he's putting your whole friendship on the line. he saw your hesitation, and added. "nothing will change. well, i mean, we'll make out."
you scoffed and smacked his chest, only to lean your head against it. taeyang hugged you, his arms wrapping around you and feeling… just right. like home.
the next day your friends were confused. did you just kiss him?! didn't you say yesterday he's just a friend…?
┆彡 JIUNG [ 지웅 ] — accidental confession
jiung is the perfect man one could could ever dream of. attentive, caring, gentleman, funny. you could go on.
you meet through mutual friends and clicked right away! you were shocked to find out that he attends the same university as you so you often saw each other on campus as well
you often went on study dates together and before you could realize, you started daydreaming about how it would be if you took out the study out of dates
you realized you've fallen hard for him and tried your best to figure out the way how to confess. starting slowly, you began to hang out with him more or bring him snacks
but to your horror, you weren't the only one who had a big fat crush on jiung (i mean, who wouldn't)
there was a girl that started clinging onto him. like, literally. jiung said it's a girl from his group and that he's a bit shocked why she started behaving like that. she even began to squeeze in between you while you ate lunch or hung out on campus.
it started getting on your nerves, seeing her flatter her eyelashes at him. maybe you were jealous; no, you were definitely jealous.
but jiung being the kind soul he is… he felt bad. he just nodded and accepted her presence, not realizing the grip on your pen is turning your knuckles white
you tried to talk to her. asking her to not interrupt you and him – and woah, she said okay?
so now you were calm. you had your jiung time alone and everything turned back to normal.
or so you thought because she just kept asking him to hang out as well. you didn't even want to imagine how she was latched onto him during their classes. or their… alone... time…
your blood was boliling – and you could swear that she always sent you evil smirks when you locked eyes while she was hanging on his shoulder.
jiung prioritized you over her, though. if she wanted to hang out with him when he had his day planned with you, he'd calmly decline.
one day you were sitting on his bed in his room, picking on your hoodie and listening to him talk.
"i just don't know how to say no to her. i'm uncomfortable but i also don't want to be rude" he whined, putting his head in his hands.
"just say no. "do you want to hang out?" and you reply "no, i'm busy". end of story. ji, you're so kind hearted and i adore that about you. i adore many things about you. the way you're considerate even right now, when she's clearly making you uncomfortable and yet! yet, you feel sympathy. i love you for that, for that- that… gentle heart and—" you slowly stopped in your tracks, looking up to meet his shocked gaze.
"you really think that?"
"that… you're… to good for this world…?" you whispered, covering your face with your hands.
"no, that you love me?" jiung asked, shock morphing into a mix of sheepishness, shyness, and cockiness.
"well, uh, maybe… i dunno…" you mumbled and fell on your back, still covering your face. you did not just say that.
you felt the mattress dip next to your head, his presence inevitably close. you peeked through your fingers, seeing a proud smirk on hiss face.
"now i'm starting to think if it was honest or were you jealous, hm?" jiung cocked his head with a smile.
by the time you left his room, you knew your friendship formed into something more <3
┆彡 SHOTA [ 翔太 ] — unexpected realization
you've been friends with shota for a while now, being there for him through thick and thin. you've become a regular in their group outings as well, given the rest of the boys became your close friends too
but with shota tho… you were hanging out with him 24/7, his dorm being your second home. he even gave you the key so you paid him unexpected visits that more often than not turned into couple days long sleepovers
shota loved hugging his plushies to sleep but cuddling you was a game changer. he began to grow used to your presence all the time, finding it weird how to stuffed animals are no match to you. and how he has troubles falling asleep when you're not with him
(he brushed it off and whenever he really needed to cuddle someone to sleep, most of the time going to keeho. once he mentioned to him how he feels and keeho just fell silent, deciding it's best to let figure shota his feelings on his own. but ever since then keeho started noticing how shota's behavior towards you changed; turned gentler.)
you were indulged in his hobbies and passions, bringing him food to his dance practices. or helping him open pokemon cards
and one day when you, shota, and intak were opening them in shota's room, on his bed. it wasn't too big so while him and intak were sitting cross legged next to each other, you decided to rest your head on shota's lap.
and he visibly froze, fingers halting with a shiny card between them. intak pretended not to notice how the younger boy's face got red.
shota then softly put his free hand on your head and started caressing your hair, trying to focus on the cards with you oblivious to the whole situation.
you were watching them unbox the cards, not really understanding what all the stats meant. but when they cheered, you did too. shota occasionally poked your cheek to see you've fallen asleep
"hey, can one of you nerds come and help me—" keeho entered the room and pulled his best poker face on not to burst into a grin upon the cute sight in front of him
"i will" you hummed and slowly got off shota. in order no not get dizzy as soon as you stand up, you waited a moment. shota grabbed your hand with a pout "i'll be right back in a blink"
he watched you leave with keeho, the look on his face resembling a kicked puppy.
why didn't he want you to leave? if he could, he'd have you next to him at all times. it was so comfortable having you on his lap. so close, making him all fuzzy and warm inside. he didn't want to let you go, whether right now or ever.
it hit him like a ton of bricks, his throat going dry.
he liked you more than a friend. he wished to be able to hold you, take care and protect you. to call you his, to crawl under your skin. he was burning with yearning that was deeply rooted in his heart for who knows how long.
"yo, shota, come on" intak's voice made him snap into reality.
and he proceeded to act as if his heart wasn't about to rip his ribcage apart.
┆彡 JONGSEOB [ 종섭 ] — forced proximity
seobi has a crush and its making him SIIIICK
you were a friend of a friend, later a bestie and his close friend… until he caught himself staring for a little too long, wanting to spend every moment with you… even writing songs about you.
he tried to fight it, like a disease. he thought it would pass — a week, a month… three… four… and almost half a year later he realized he might be incurable.
chances were, he wouldn't take any action. but two things influenced him: a guy named taesan who started being around you suspiciously a lot, and his friends' advice.
"if you don't act, you'll regret it" jiung nodded his head and keeho just furrowed his brows. now he knew his younger friend wouldn't be brave enough. unless…
and that's when the next day keeho said he's throwing a party for his friends! jongseob invited you, of course he did, but also so did keeho since you talked a couple of times before.
seob knew something was up: his older friends were acting surprisingly kind, didn't even scold him to bring anything or help with preparation! a weird occurrence but he thought maybe it was because he arrived with you at the party.
music was loud, some of the people tipsy already. keeho hugged you welcome and lead you to the counter. engaging in small talk, jongseob was stuck to you like glue.
"shit, i ran out of cola. y/n, jongseob, could you bring it? there's a multi-pack on the balcony" keeho asked and you nodded.
the second you two stepped outside, you heard a click of door closing. jongseob's eyes widened as keeho trapped you on the tiny balcony, rolling down the blinds. you looked shocked at jongseob, totally confused, as he stared back at you with mouth agape.
"did you piss him off or something?" you laughed, leaning over the railing. he sighed and leaned next to you, arms touching. still booming bit but much more quieter. it was nice and he preferred such atmosphere anyway.
suddenly, his phone dinged with a imessage notification from keeho that said: 'i'm not letting you out until you confess. have fun xoxo'.
with a huff, seob tucked his phone back into his pocket and stared at your profile, gathering his thoughts. he was making excuses all the time, that there's no time, no appropriate moment to confess… but this was perfect. and he hated keeho for that.
"he's mean, huh?" you huffed, biting the inside of your cheek. the night was slightly cold and you nudged his arm with yours. "but smart."
"yeah." he hummed, still thinking how to— wait.
"jongseob, there's something i need to tell you"
he panicked.
"please don't date taesan, i love you, i mean— i don't love love you, i think, but i really, really, really like you and the thought of him being near you is making me lose my mind and keeho told me—"
your soft lips on his cheek shut him up, processing what he just blurted out. blush bloomed on his face.
"keeho is really mean. he planned this so well because the truth is, i like you too. and my mistake was telling keeho" you grunted. "and, well, i do apologize for taesan. we planned it. i wanted to make you jealous. but keeho was the mastermind here."
jongseob let out a shaky breath, staring at you in disbelief.
"do you want to ditch this party and go on a date?" he asked with a boyish grin.
synopsis : You move in with a grumpy roommate who charges a “sunshine tax” for being too cheerful. You jokingly pay in smiles and breakfast—until it stops feeling like one.
genre : slice of life, fluff, romcom, slow burn
warnings : none
author’s note : requested by anon ! 💝 honestly im lowkey proud of what i’ve written 🤭
word count : 3.8k
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It starts with a door that refuses to open.
You’re standing in the hallway, arms full of mismatched boxes and tote bags, balancing a potted plant on one hip like it’s a newborn child.
You’ve already triple-checked the address.
Apartment 302. Third floor. Left corner.
But when you try the key, it doesn’t budge.
You twist. You pull. You jiggle the handle like a desperate raccoon.
The door stays stubbornly shut.
Then, just as you lean forward for one last attempt, it swings open — and you stumble right into a wall of flannel and sleepy confusion.
“Whoa—” a low voice says, catching the door before it hits your face. “Do you… live here now or are you breaking in?”
You blink up at him. He’s tall — unfairly tall — with black hair that looks like it hasn’t met a brush in days. His eyes are sharp, but his expression isn’t exactly mean, just… mildly bewildered.
“I—uh—hi!” you manage, shifting your plant before it topples over. “You must be Theo! I’m your new roommate.”
Theo blinks. Once. Twice. He glances at the pile of boxes behind you like he’s trying to calculate how much chaos he just inherited.
Then he sighs. “I thought you were moving in tomorrow.”
“I thought so too!” you say cheerfully. “But my lease started today, so I figured, why not get a head start?”
Theo looks at his phone like he’s verifying if today is, in fact, real. Then, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘too early for this’, he steps aside and gestures you in.
“Right. Come on, then. Before your plant dies of exhaustion.”
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The apartment is small but surprisingly cozy.
An open kitchen that bleeds into a living room, a hallway leading to two bedrooms. The kind of place that could feel like home once someone with enthusiasm (you) adds fairy lights and throw pillows.
Currently, though, it looks like Theo’s personality in apartment form: quiet, neat, minimalist, and slightly allergic to color.
You take it all in with a bright grin. “This is so cute!”
Theo, standing behind you with a mug of coffee and the aura of a man forced out of bed before noon, makes a sound that might be a laugh or a scoff.
“Cute,” he repeats flatly. “That’s… one word for it.”
You spin around, smiling like you didn’t hear the sarcasm. “Where should I put my stuff?”
He nods toward the room on the right. “That one’s yours. I cleaned it yesterday.”
Your heart melts a little. “You did? That’s so sweet of you.”
Theo looks mildly alarmed, as if kindness wasn’t supposed to earn him verbal affection. “I just didn’t want to trip on your boxes.”
“Still counts,” you tease, and he hides a faint smile behind his mug.
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An hour later, you’ve successfully turned the hallway into a war zone of boxes.
You’re humming under your breath, hair messy, sleeves rolled up. Every few minutes, Theo passes by, heading to the kitchen or living room, pretending not to stare.
He’s quiet, you realize — not rude, just deliberate. Every movement is efficient, every sentence short and precise.
Like he’s careful not to take up more space than necessary.
Meanwhile, you’re the exact opposite: chatting about the view, the weather, the pigeon that almost landed on your window.
“You talk a lot,” he says finally, appearing beside your doorframe.
You glance up, unfazed. “It’s called being friendly!”
“It’s called being loud,” he mutters, taking a sip of coffee.
You gasp in mock offense. “Wow. You’re already charging me emotional rent?”
He raises a brow. “Emotional rent?”
“Yeah! For the trauma of enduring my ‘loudness.’”
Theo sets his mug down, leans against the frame, and says, with a straight face, “Fine. Sunshine tax. Payable daily.”
You pause, blinking. Then you burst out laughing. “Sunshine tax?”
“For excessive cheerfulness and morning noise pollution.”
“Wow,” you say, hand over your heart. “You’re bold, Theo. But jokes on you — I don’t have money.”
He smirks slightly. “Then I’ll accept payment in silence.”
“Impossible,” you declare. “You’ll have to settle for breakfast.”
Theo tilts his head. “You bribing me with food already?”
“Not a bribe,” you correct. “A friendly roommate offering.”
He hums like he doesn’t believe you, but when you turn away, you catch a flicker of amusement in his expression — the kind that hides behind lowered lashes and a quick exhale that almost sounds like laughter.
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The next morning, you’re up early again — humming, barefoot, flipping pancakes like a champion.
The smell of butter and sugar fills the kitchen, and you’re smiling to yourself when Theo appears, bleary-eyed and in an oversized hoodie.
He blinks at the sight of you — the apron, the bright yellow spatula, the playlist softly playing in the background.
“Morning, sunshine!” you chirp. “You want pancakes?”
Theo rubs the back of his neck, mumbles something that might be “sure,” and sits at the counter. You slide a plate in front of him, topped with three pancakes and a smiley face drawn in syrup.
When he looks at it, you grin. “Payment for the sunshine tax.”
Theo stares for a second, like he’s processing this new level of ridiculousness. Then he lets out a small, reluctant laugh.
“Didn’t realize you took it seriously.”
“I take all financial obligations seriously,” you say solemnly. “Especially the made-up ones.”
He shakes his head, but you catch it — the way his shoulders loosen, the tiny curve at the corner of his mouth as he takes his first bite.
“Not bad,” he admits quietly.
You beam. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me so far!”
“I said it’s not bad, not good.”
“Same thing.”
He sighs, but there’s a ghost of a smile there, the kind that lingers longer than it should.
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By the end of the week, the sunshine tax becomes a running joke.
Every time you’re too chatty in the mornings, Theo mutters “tax increase.” Every time he forgets to answer your questions, you announce he owes you interest.
You start leaving tiny sticky notes around the apartment:
“Paid my tax today — enjoy your coffee!”
“Additional payment: one good mood.”
You even tape one to the fridge shaped like a sun.
Theo pretends to roll his eyes at all of it. But when you accidentally stay late at work one night, you come home to find your favorite mug clean and waiting on the counter — and your little sticky note from that morning moved neatly to the fridge door instead of the trash.
That’s when it hits you.
Theo doesn’t hate your sunshine.
He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.
And maybe — just maybe — you don’t mind teaching him.
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It takes exactly two weeks for the apartment to feel alive again.
When you first moved in, it was too quiet — the kind of quiet that clung to the walls.
But now, the place hums with small life: the clatter of your mugs, faint music drifting from your room, your laughter echoing down the short hallway.
Theo would never admit it out loud, but he doesn’t hate it. Not anymore.
In fact, he’s learned something strange: mornings feel less heavy when you’re in them.
You’re in the kitchen, flipping through a recipe book, when he shuffles in half-awake, hoodie hood pulled up, hair sticking out in a way that defies gravity.
“Morning, roomie!” you chirp, pouring him coffee before he can protest. “Black, two sugars, right?”
Theo pauses mid-step. “You… remember that?”
You grin. “Of course. I pay attention.”
He takes the mug, still looking faintly suspicious. “You pay too much attention.”
“It’s part of the sunshine tax benefits package,” you say proudly. “Premium service.”
Theo sips his coffee, eyes half-lidded. “What exactly does this package include?”
“Free breakfast, emotional support, unsolicited pep talks, and occasional hugs— if you ever upgrade to the deluxe plan.”
He almost chokes on his drink. “Deluxe plan?”
You nod solemnly. “Requires approval. You don’t seem ready yet.”
He stares at you for a long moment, then sets his mug down with exaggerated calm. “I’ll stay on the basic plan, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” you say, smiling like you know he’s bluffing.
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Later that morning, you’re both on the couch — you with your laptop, Theo with a book.
The rain outside drums softly against the windows, and the smell of the coffee you made still lingers faintly in the air.
Every so often, you glance at him. He’s focused, brows drawn, glasses sliding down his nose. (You didn’t even know he wore glasses until this morning, and frankly, it’s been difficult to recover.)
He catches you looking. “What?” he asks without looking up.
“Nothing,” you say too quickly, turning back to your screen.
“You’re staring again.”
“Am not.”
He flips a page. “You were humming.”
“I always hum.”
“Exactly.”
You purse your lips, trying to look offended, but he smirks — the smallest, most fleeting smile. It’s barely there, but it makes your stomach flutter anyway.
You sigh dramatically. “You’re so mean to me, Theo.”
“Sunshine tax went up,” he says, deadpan.
“Excuse me?!”
“Inflation.”
You throw a cushion at him. He dodges without looking up. “Unbelievable.”
“You’re too loud,” he says, but the corner of his mouth twitches again — the second smile you’ve caught today.
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Over time, your sticky notes start multiplying like ivy.
They’re on the fridge, on the bathroom mirror, on his desk.
Some are funny:
“Good morning! Be nice to me today (please).”
Some are helpful:
“Fed your plant. It was wilting — I fixed it. You’re welcome.”
And some are just tiny bits of kindness:
“Hope your day is a happy one!”
You expect Theo to ignore them. Maybe even throw them out.
But he doesn’t. He keeps them all.
You noticed one afternoon when you passed by his open door and caught sight of them, neatly stacked on the corner of his desk, right beside his pens.
He doesn’t see you looking.
He’s got his headphones on, humming faintly under his breath — a quiet, tuneless sound that makes your heart squeeze.
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That weekend, you come home soaked from the rain.
Theo’s on the couch, laptop open, wearing a sweater that looks soft enough to live in. He glances up when he hears the door.
“Umbrella broke,” you announce, holding up the snapped frame. “The sky was rude.”
Theo stares. “You walked home in that?”
“It was only drizzling!” you protest. Water drips from your hair.
“That’s not drizzling,” he says, frowning. “That’s drowning.”
You laugh, shaking your head like a wet dog. “Guess I’ll shower before I catch something.”
Theo hesitates, then stands and disappears into the kitchen. When you reemerge a few minutes later, towel in hand, you find a mug of hot chocolate waiting on the counter — steam curling gently above it.
He’s back on the couch, pretending he didn’t do it.
You bite back a smile. “You know, if this is part of my sunshine tax refund, I accept.”
He doesn’t look up. “Don’t make it weird.”
“You’re literally giving me cocoa,” you tease, leaning on the back of the couch. “That’s a friendship move.”
Theo closes his laptop with a sigh. “You name every act of decency something dramatic.”
“It’s called branding,” you say, laughing.
“Is that what this is? A brand?”
“Yep. Sunshine™. Spreading warmth and chaos since move-in day.”
Theo chuckles softly. “More chaos than warmth.”
“You like it though.”
He glances at you, and this time, he doesn’t deny it.
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You start cooking dinner together after that.
It’s a surprisingly good system: you chop, he stirs. You talk, he listens — occasionally offering a dry comment that makes you snort so hard you nearly drop your spoon.
When you burn the onions, he slides the pan off the stove without saying a word, just hands you the salt with a look that says, ‘I told you so.’
“You could’ve warned me earlier,” you complain.
“I did,” he says calmly. “You were talking about your coworker’s cat.”
“Well, it’s a very cute cat.”
Theo’s lips twitch. “I’m sure it’s thrilled to be blamed for your cooking.”
You grin at him. “You’re kinda funny, you know.”
He arches a brow. “Kinda?”
“Okay, very funny,” you amend. “But don’t get cocky about it.”
“I won’t,” he says, turning back to the pan — but there’s a small, unmistakable smile on his face, the kind that makes your chest warm.
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One night, you can’t sleep.
It’s nearly midnight when you wander out of your room, feet quiet on the floorboards. You find Theo in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, scrolling through something on his phone.
He looks up, startled. “Couldn’t sleep?”
You nod. “Too many thoughts.”
He gestures toward the kettle. “Tea?”
You blink. “You’re offering me tea now? I thought I had to pay extra for that.”
“Special offer,” he says dryly, pouring water into two mugs. “Limited time.”
You grin. “Is this the deluxe plan?”
Theo doesn’t answer — just slides your mug toward you and sits across the counter. The kitchen is bathed in the soft gold light of the stove lamp, rain tapping gently against the window again.
For a moment, you both just sit there in silence.
Then you ask, “Do you like living with me?”
Theo looks up, expression unreadable. “You want the honest answer?”
You nod, trying not to fidget.
He exhales softly. “It’s… louder than I expected. Messier, too.”
You open your mouth to apologize, but he continues before you can.
“But also warmer. Lighter. Less lonely.”
Your heart does a strange, quiet thing — a little skip, a little ache.
You smile softly. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t make it weird,” he murmurs, sipping his tea.
You laugh, the sound filling the tiny kitchen. “Too late.”
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After that night, something shifts.
It’s subtle — like the way sunlight changes color near evening, or how rain smells different before it falls.
Theo starts sitting closer on the couch. You start stealing his hoodies on cold mornings (he pretends to complain, but never takes them back). He starts texting you small things during the day:
[theo]: you left your lunch again
[theo]: grabbed you a sandwich
[theo]: also your plant is thirsty. like you after two coffees.
You tease him about that last one for days, but the truth is, every time his name lights up your phone, you smile.
And every time you laugh at something stupid, Theo does too — quietly, like he’s afraid the sound will give him away.
It’s raining again one evening when you find a note taped to the fridge — his handwriting this time.
“Sunshine tax: waived indefinitely. Consider it a permanent discount.”
You stare at it for a long moment, then burst into laughter so bright it fills the whole kitchen.
Theo appears in the doorway, hair damp from his shower, wearing that familiar soft sweater.
“Discount?” you echo, grinning at him. “Are you saying I’ve been overpaying?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I got tired of collecting.”
“So what do I owe you now?” you ask playfully.
He hesitates — then says, almost too quietly, “Just breakfast tomorrow.”
Your breath catches, just for a second. “Deal.”
And maybe you don’t notice it then — the way his lips curve faintly as he turns away — but you will later.
Because Theo, your grumpy, introverted roommate, has started smiling when you’re not looking.
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You’ve learned something about Theo.
He’s the kind of person who loves quietly. Not in grand gestures, but in the way he moves around you — how he puts your mug where you can reach it, or adjusts the couch blanket when you fall asleep watching TV.
He’s steady. Careful. A little awkward, sometimes, but never unkind.
And somehow, in the middle of your chaotic warmth, he’s become the calm you didn’t know you needed.
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It’s a Sunday morning when you wake to the smell of coffee and music.
For a second, you assume you’re dreaming — Theo doesn’t do mornings, at least not willingly.
But when you shuffle into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and in mismatched socks, there he is.
He’s wearing your yellow apron.
The one that says kiss the cook (please).
He looks up mid-sip, deadpan. “Before you say anything, it was the first one I found.”
You grin, leaning on the counter. “Oh, I wasn’t going to say anything. You wear it beautifully.”
He gives you a look — that long-suffering, ‘why did I agree to live with you’ look — but the corner of his mouth curves anyway.
“You’re lucky I made enough pancakes for two,” he mutters, flipping one with unnecessary precision.
“Wait,” you gasp dramatically, “you made breakfast? Am I hallucinating?”
“Keep talking,” he says, “and you’ll lose your portion.”
You laugh, grabbing two plates from the cupboard. “Fine, fine. But for the record, I’m proud of you.”
Theo glances at you from the stove, expression softening almost imperceptibly. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Never,” you say sweetly, already planning to make it weird later.
You eat together at the small kitchen table — sunlight spilling through the windows, dust motes swirling lazily in the golden air.
The pancakes are surprisingly good, a little crisp at the edges, and Theo watches you take each bite like he’s secretly waiting for your verdict.
“Delicious,” you declare, grinning. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
He snorts. “Right. Because I’ve secretly been a breakfast chef this whole time.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” you tease. “You’re full of mysteries.”
Theo rolls his eyes but doesn’t look away this time. “You think too highly of me.”
“I just think you hide the best parts of yourself,” you say quietly, without meaning to sound so sincere.
It hangs between you for a second — soft, weightless.
Theo blinks, caught off guard, and for once, doesn’t have a sarcastic retort ready.
Then, quietly: “Maybe I’m just waiting for someone who notices them.”
Your heart catches. You smile — not big or teasing this time, just gentle. “Then I guess I’m doing my job.”
Theo stares at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then he exhales and mutters, “You talk too much.”
But it’s not sharp. It’s fond.
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Over the next week, the apartment feels like spring.
Theo hums under his breath while making coffee. You catch him leaving notes now — small, plain ones, written in neat handwriting:
“made extra pasta. its in the fridge.”
“good luck today.”
“for the sake of you and i, stop leaving your socks in the laundry room.”
Okay, so not all of them are sweet. But still.
Progress.
And somewhere in the quiet rhythm of shared mornings and late-night conversations, something starts to bloom — slow and soft, like sunlight creeping across a floor.
You find yourself watching him a little longer.
He starts smiling more often, even when you’re not looking.
One rainy evening, you both end up on the couch again.
The movie’s half-forgotten; you’re sharing a blanket, your shoulder brushing his.
The city hums faintly outside — cars splashing through puddles, thunder rumbling far away.
Theo’s hand rests close to yours on the couch.
Not touching. Just close enough that it feels like an invitation.
You glance at him. He’s watching the screen, expression calm, but his thumb taps lightly against his knee — the smallest tell that he’s nervous.
So you take a breath.
And you reach out.
Your fingers graze his. He goes still, every muscle tensing for a second. Then, slowly, carefully, he turns his hand over and laces his fingers through yours.
No words. Just warmth.
You smile at the screen, pretending to keep watching. “So… deluxe plan, huh?”
Theo lets out a small laugh — quiet, but real. “Guess I upgraded.”
Later, when the credits roll, he doesn’t move. His thumb traces lazy circles against your palm, and you rest your head on his shoulder.
“I was going to say something,” he murmurs suddenly, voice low.
“Yeah?”
“I used to hate mornings.”
You blink sleepily. “Used to?”
He nods. “They were… too loud. Too bright. Too many people acting like the world wasn’t exhausting.”
He pauses, glancing at the dark window. “Then you moved in. And now, somehow, the noise feels less like noise.”
Your chest tightens. You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever said they like living with me.”
Theo chuckles softly. “Don’t make it weird.”
You grin. “I’ll try not to.”
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It becomes a routine — coffee and quiet mornings, shared dinners and movie nights.
The sunshine tax becomes an inside joke, then a memory, then something softer, unnamed.
But you still tease him sometimes.
One morning, you stick a new note on the fridge:
“Sunshine tax: payable in kisses. Terms non-negotiable.”
You expect him to roll his eyes or ignore it.
Instead, when you’re reaching for the milk later, he steps up behind you — close enough that his breath brushes your neck.
“I don’t usually pay in advance,” he murmurs. “But maybe I’ll make an exception.”
You barely have time to turn before he kisses you — soft, unsure, the kind of kiss that feels like a promise rather than a question.
It’s short, gentle, but it leaves you smiling so wide your cheeks ache.
He pulls back, cheeks slightly pink. “Consider that your refund.”
You laugh, tugging on his sleeve. “You’re terrible at metaphors.”
“Probably,” he admits, smiling into your next kiss.
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After that, it’s easy.
You cook together, you argue about movie choices, you fall asleep on the couch more often than in your beds.
Theo starts leaving the bedroom door open when he’s working, and you start waking up a little earlier just to see his sleepy face in the morning light.
And every time you joke about the sunshine tax, he just says, “Already paid,” before leaning down to kiss you again.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
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Weeks later, you’re sitting together by the window on another rainy morning, watching the world blur behind the glass.
Your head rests on his shoulder, and his fingers are tracing absent patterns on your arm.
You hum softly. “You know… you’ve changed.”
Theo arches a brow. “For better or worse?”
“For warmer,” you say, smiling. “You’re practically glowing.”
He chuckles. “Must be your influence.”
You nudge him gently. “Guess I’m good for you, huh?”
Theo looks at you — really looks — and his voice is quiet when he says, “You are.”
And just like that, the world feels smaller, safer, softer.
Two people, one apartment, sunlight on the walls.
The rent still matters, the dishes still pile up, the city still buzzes beyond the window — but somewhere between his morning grumbles and your laughter echoing down the hall, home stopped being just a place.
