#Roomate AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

storiesofsvu · 2 years ago

Text

Best Friend Duty

Requested. Platonic!Harvard!Barhoun Rita Calhoun x Rafael Barba besties. Could technically be read as a previous relationship or the beginning of a romantic relationship, but also just as besties. Cause lets be real, these two are besties who have fucked at least once. No real warnings, just some sickness, and a teeeeeeny glimpse of isolated childhood. Obvious sass & language.

Rafael had almost been confused when he’d come home to a quiet apartment, Rita was usually awake late, pouring over case studies, law journals, writing papers or going over mock arguments. Instead he was met with just a lamp in the corner of the living room, an open text book on the coffee table beside a nearly full bowl of pasta, silence and darkness echoing through the rest of the apartment. Glancing down the hallway he noticed that Rita’s bedroom door was shut, no light coming from under it and he almost wondered if she’d finally decided to go out on a school night.

Knowing she wouldn’t care; he tossed the food into the microwave to scarf down as his own very late dinner, glancing through what she’d been studying before disappearing, unsurprised to find it was related to the most recent essay assignment they had. Frowning, he took another bite of pasta, that was one thing he’d always enjoyed since moving in with Rita for their third year at Harvard, getting to come home and go over law material, courses and assignments with each other. When he lived in the dorms he was stuck with randoms, not necessarily the same department, year or interests. With Rita he felt at home, at peace and despite her not having a single maternal bone in her body, he felt taken care of. Her coming home with extra groceries when he was having trouble balancing work with school, his paycheques taking a hit because of it, bribing him into shopping trips on the weekends because he had a better fashion sense than her girlfriends. Those trips that always ended up with her commenting that he’d need a good suit to kick off his career, slowly building up his wardrobe one piece at a time as a thank you. Having someone around who understood how his brain worked, someone who was respectable, quiet and knew to keep the lights low when he’d been studying too long and his migraines were starting to settle in.

It balanced out because the best she could do in the kitchen was scrambled eggs, peanut butter toast, vegetables thrown together randomly to be called a salad, or unseasoned shrimp and rice on a good day. Rafael started adding things to the grocery list a few weeks into moving in, appreciating that she always picked the things up so he could cook them actual, seasoned and delicious food. Shopping balanced out because he really did have a good fashion sense, even if it was more impacted by Rita, and his memory was impeccable, he’d be able to spot a pair of earrings that would go with a suit she’d bought months ago, forgotten at the back of her closet. And while she was guiding him through his migraines, he was the one who would always make sure she actually ate, that coffee was brewed at the beginning of the day, that she put away the textbooks and go to bed sometime before dawn if they had class the next day.

Things were completely platonic, but they loved each other, and they knew they always would. Best friends from the moment they met despite what society’s expectations would say, hell, despite what some of their classmates would say. They belonged in each others lives, they helped take care of each other, work through the toughest times together and they would always be there for each other.

Which is why when Rafael rolled over in the middle of the night and his arm hit something that wasn’t a pillow, he wasn’t totally confused. He groaned softly, shifting on the bed, his eyes scrunching tightly shut in an attempt to hold onto his sleep, his hand finding Rita’s elbow, rubbing gently as he relaxed into the pillows.

“Did you really have to punch me in the tit?” She grumbled and he let out a huff.

“You’re the one invading my bed.” He groaned, “what’re you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She replied, a hoarse cough breaking up her words, “my room’s freezing. I’m freezing.”

Rafael wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush to her before his hand wandered up, the back of it resting against her forehead, “you’re burning up.”

“Shut up.” Rita mumbled, readjusting so she was comfortable in his arms, “lemme sleep.”

“So… you snuck into my room at four a.m. to what? Cuddle….?” He chuckled.

“I came into your room for comfort, and for warmth.” Her fingers pinched at his wrist, “so can we just go back to sleep?”

“Sure.” Rafael laughed softly, squeezing at her softly, “you know you’re cute when you’re half asleep like this.”

“Will you just hold me!” Rita let out a near whine and he could hear her voice breaking, frowning as he knew there were likely tears building in her eyes. It wasn’t often that Rita behaved like this, that she felt like this, that she desired to depend on someone else. It was clear to Rafael by the time his eyes were shutting again that she definitely wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, his arm winding tightly around her waist, making sure she was fully in his embrace as they fell back asleep.

Rita didn’t wake up until the early afternoon, the bed empty but blankets wrapped tightly around her, a sealed bottle of water sat on the nightstand beside a pack of Tylenol and it appeared Rafael had even gone to the length of grabbing the portable heater from her room to make sure she was no longer freezing. She definitely wasn’t, she felt almost sticky with sweat, her mouth dry and her head throbbing as she ever so slowly rolled over to grab the medicine and water. Her throat was on fire as she swallowed, the pills barely making it down and she groaned before breaking into a small coughing fit, wincing at the pain in her chest already. Whatever this was, it was hitting her hard and hitting her fast. Her only positive thought was that if came on this quickly maybe it would be gone within twenty four hours.

The coughing alerted Rafael that she was finally awake, the door creaking open and his head popping through it to see how she was, “are you up, up or just taking meds?”

“Up, up.” She replied with a groan, “I feel disgusting, I need to shower.” She attempted to push herself to her feet but swayed heavily and Raf darted through the room, an arm winding around her waist.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m fine.” She insisted and he chuckled.

“You snuck into my bed in the middle of the night to be held, there’s clearly something wrong with you.”

“Shut it.” A small laugh broke out on her lips but it was just as quickly turned into another coughing fit, Rafael’s hand rubbing soothing circles on her back until she’d calmed down.

“Okay, let’s get you into the bathroom, at the very least the steam from the shower might help loosen some of that up and if you’re too dizzy a lazy washcloth shower will do, you’re just gonna sweat through your next sleep again anyways.”

“Are you planning to stay glued to my side the whole day? I’m not letting you in the bathroom with me.”

“Okay, then you can enjoy cracking your head open on the tub when you fall.” He squeezed at her side gently, nudging her in the direction of the bathroom and she tried to shoot him a glare but her vision suddenly blurred and she paused a moment to shake out of it.

“Fine.”

Rita made him stay out of the bathroom until she was stripped down and hidden behind the shower curtain but did admit defeat and let him know she was sitting down after a couple of minutes. Even if it wasn’t the dizziness it was the general unwell feeling aching through her muscles, the shakiness of her hands as she tried to scrub the sickness away.

“You know maybe if you hadn’t skipped dinner last night you’d be able to make it through a shower.” Rafael called over the water.

“I didn’t skip dinner.”

“Rita, there were all of two bites taken out of that pasta and we both know it.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” She protested back, reaching up to turn off the taps, “and I was exhausted. I chose sleep over nourishment. Hand me a towel.” A warm, fluffy green one popped up between the shower curtain and the wall,

“Be careful when you stand up, and I’m leaving clothes on the basin for you.”

“Thanks.”

Rita waited until she heard the bathroom door click shut before she managed her way to her feet, cautiously stepping out of the tub to dry herself off. She couldn’t help but softly smile at the pile of clothes Rafael had left out for her, a pair of plaid pyjama pants of his that she tended to steal out of the laundry, a worn high school debate club shirt of her own and a Harvard hoodie they weren’t entirely sure who the correct owner was at this point. Pulling the hoodie tighter around her with a little shiver she padded out to the main part of the apartment, the television was on low, textbooks and note pads strewn across the coffee table next to a half full coffee cup. She made a beeline for the couch, tugging the blanket off the back of it before collapsing onto the cushions and wrapping it around herself. She snagged the remote, turning the volume up a bit before starting to channel surf to find something more entertaining to watch.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.”

“Good.” He chuckled, “it’s for you.”

“What?” She asked with a croak, sitting up and looking over the back of the couch to Raf in the kitchen.

“I figured you were coming down with something so I ran to the store this morning, picked up ingredients for soup.”

“Can’t that just come out of a can?”

“Sure. If you want bland, unseasoned crap.” He laughed, turning the heat down to a simmer, “didn’t your mom ever make you soup when you were sick as a kid?”

“Bold of you to assume my mother ever cooked anything for me. And if I was sick she’d throw some children’s Advil in the direction of my father and shuttle me off to the nannies for the week.”

“No wonder you hate being sick so much.” He frowned, crossing through the room, “it’s not about the actual illness, is it?”

“Being sick sucks.” Rita sighed, dropping back into the cushions, burrowing under the blanket as Raf perched on the arm of the couch. “You already feel like crap, you can’t do anything, your energy is zapped, you either have no appetite or you’re throwing up constantly. You’re not allowed to go to school and nobody wants anything to do with you so you’re holed up on your own feeling like you’re in isolation until you’re better.”

“You were the kid who sat up studying and doing homework while off sick, weren’t you?” He raised a brow in her direction and she looked up at him with a sheepish expression before scoffing.

“Yeah.” She tugged the blanket tighter under her chin, “can’t fall behind.”

“Well then be glad it’s the weekend.” He teased, a hand coming to ruffle at her hair and he clicked his tongue, “did you seriously wash your hair and not dry it?”

“I seem to remember getting lectured about not standing for too long.” She glared up at him and he rolled his eyes.

“If you sleep with it like this it’s going to be a tangled mess when you wake up and I already don’t wanna hear it. Gimmie a second.”

Rita let out a huff, her gaze falling back onto the television as he disappeared from the room. She heard the click of the kettle as he passed through the kitchen before he wandered down the hall for a couple of minutes, rustling around in one of the other rooms. By the time he came back the water was boiling and when he returned to the couch there was a steaming mug in his hand thrust into Rita’s line of sight.

“Sit up.” He instructed, “and take this.”

She grumbled but did as he asked, sitting with her back against the arm of the couch as Rafael situated himself on it once again. She noticed that the tea wasn’t one of their usual tea bags, a mix of scents wafting off the beverage and a cinnamon stick floating inside of it. Behind her, Rafael’s fingers shook out her damp hair, making sure he wasn’t going to come across any large knots before parting it down the center and starting to make two French braids. She let out a little happy hum, appreciative in the way that he wasn’t shying away from her when she was sick, that he hadn’t banished her to her bedroom until she was better, he didn’t seem to have any issues with potentially picking up whatever germs she was carrying. Truthfully, that was because he knew she had likely been contagious all week and they shared practically everything already. They frequently stole food off each other’s plates, finished the other person’s coffee and used the same utensils. Whenever Rita found the time to bake he knew she regularly licked batter off the mixing spoon to make sure it tasted good before continuing to make whatever she was making. Germs was just something added to the list of things they shared.

“There’s something in this I can’t place.” She murmured as Rafael began the second braid and he laughed softly.

“Likely the garlic.”

“Garlic?!” She tried to turn her head and only managed to yank the hair he was currently holding, wincing as she turned her head back forward, “why?”

“It’s one of Mami’s classic recipes.” He replied with a shrug, nodding toward the stove, “same with the soup. Anytime I was sick she’d make a huge batch of both to last all week. When I was younger there was usually homemade bread to go along with it and I got to either sleep on the couch all week or in her bed. Extra popsicles too. While the actual illness sucked there were definitely some upsides to getting to stay home sick.”

“Sounds fake.” Rita grumbled, taking another swig of the tea.

“Well we’ve figured out by now that we had very different childhoods.” He wrapped the elastic around the second brain, then leant forward, kissing the top of her head, “you’re all done. Hungry?”

“Tired.” She replied back, draining the last of her tea before placing it down on the coffee table as Rafael climbed off the side of the couch.

“Alright. Get some rest, I’ll make sure to be quiet.”

“Where are you going?” She whined, pouting at him as he headed back to the kitchen.

“Figured you wanted to sleep.”

“I kinda hijacked your hangout place.” She gestured to the coffee table covered in his things.

“I can set up in the kitchen, or my room.”

“You really don’t have to.”

Rafael watched the way she frowned, the little shiver that danced through her body before his lips split into a grin, “you want me to stay.” He sauntered back over to the couch, “don’t you? Sick Rita is needy Rita, isn’t she? You want more cuddles.”

“Well I don’t wanna be alone.” She deflected and he laughed, “besides, just a little nap for the drugs to kick in and then I want some of that soup.”

“Alright.” Smirking he nudged her shoulder so she could sit up again and dropped onto the couch, “make yourself at home.”

Rita collapsed into his lap, letting out a happy sigh when his hand automatically landed in her hair, fingertips gently rubbing at her scalp. It only took a couple of minutes before she was asleep again, snoring softly and Rafael tucked the blanket in a little tighter around her shoulders. She’d been sick a couple of times during their years at Harvard but this was the first time when they’d been living together and now he felt a little bad for not checking up on her when he was still in the dorms. She clearly craved the contact and honestly had no clue how to take care of herself, it was no wonder the flu in first year took her out for a full two weeks.

The hand he had in her hair softly moved to her back, rubbing slow circles through the blanket, making sure she was as comfortable as she could get while she slept. She needed the rest and now he really knew just how touch starved she was, certain that if he even got up to use the bathroom she would be whining in her sleep. Halfway through the afternoon he felt his eyes drooping, whatever she’d chosen on the television serving zero interest to him and he gingerly shifted her so he could slide between her and the back of the couch, wrapping her in his arms as he slipped under the blanket.

The timer on the stove woke them up just as the sun was starting to set, jolting them both out of their calm sleeps.

“Sorry.” He murmured, slowly untangling their limbs.

“S’okay.” She replied with a yawn, “probably wouldn’t sleep through the night otherwise.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed at her shoulder, “feeling better?”

“A bit.”

“Take some more meds.”

“Is it time for soup?” She asked, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up and he couldn’t help but smile at just how little she looked right now.

“Yeah.” He padded through the kitchen, flicking the burner off before digging through the pantry, “you want some of this sourdough with it?”

“Please.”

A moment later Rita let out a happy groan at the smells wafting through the room as Rafael took the lid off the pot and added a few last minute things. She picked up her water, swallowing down a couple more pills before she shifted on the couch, nestling into the corner so Rafael could sit beside her. She flicked through a couple of channels until she found one of their joint favourite movies about to start and hummed in satisfaction.

“Here.” Rafael returned to the couch with the food, a fresh mug of tea placed on the table for her, “careful it’s hot.”

“Smells amazing.”

“Surprised you’ve still got a sense of smell.” He teased and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s more in my throat.”

“That I can tell,” he grinned, “you sound like Kermit.”

“Fuck you.” She muttered, opting to ignore him and focus on the soup instead, humming softly when the flavours hit her tongue. Beside her Rafael simply smiled, glad that she was actually eating and getting nutrients in while sick instead of living off saltine crackers.

Empty bowls of soup lay abandoned on the coffee table, Rita’s mug of tea refilled and Rafael had grabbed a beer from the fridge for himself. The movie was just over halfway through and Rita was neatly tucked under Raf’s arm, nestled into the crook of his neck while his hand softly rubbed up and down her arm. Her breathing was pretty regulated, only small coughs here and there now that Rafael had dug through the bathroom until he found some cough syrup from his last bought of illness for her. She was no longer alternating between shivering and being too hot, having to shove the blanket off her, a happy medium where she was slowly starting to feel like an actual human again.

“Rafa?” She asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He turned his face to leave a gentle kiss on the top of her hair, “that’s what best friends are for.”

A comfortable silence took over them as the movie began to wrap up before she quietly spoke again.

“Raf?” This time her voice was almost timid and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yes you can sleep in my bed again tonight.”

________________

@svulife-rl rl @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @momlifebehard @alexusonfire @godard-muse @thatesqcrush @daddy-heather-dunbar @alcabots @kmc1989 @valentinesfrog @originalbrunettecharacter @swimmingstudentchaos891 @prentiss-theorem @witches-unruly-heart @plaidbooks

#law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #rita calhoun #rafael barba #barhoun #rita calhoun x rafael barba #platonic!barhoun #bestie!barhoun #harvard au #roomate au

97 notes · View notes

intistone · 2 years ago

Text

two burnt idiots au

literally the name of the au, it has been on my mind for a while aksdfjlakdsfj already made some art but i would like to ramble reeee-

Just Firefighter Reader doing a patrol of the Pizzaplex Ruins for salvaging stuff, a fella who is honestly really grouchy and doesn't put up with any losers, more of a punch first and think later personality to just get the job done. They have trauma themselves from surviving a fire, but they honestly rather they deal with the details themselves and not really get attached to anyone else.

And...they find Eclipse.

Or more like punch them in the face while doing the patrol of the ruins.

But i think this could be more like a roommate au or something, cause i feel like Y/N could open up to these lads and the lads would also get somewhere to stay and honestly get a well-deserved place to rest and recover from clear TRAUMA that they got from the fire and their time at the plex. two burnt idiots just getting along and putting up with their issues and shenanigans and just....idk a comfort story for those two characters.

also may be a very possible fic in the future after i finish scars and scales hehehe

84 notes · View notes

skeleton-mischief · 1 year ago

Text

❤️🌹UF!Papyrus x Reader🌹❤️

This is the second half of my self indulgent x reader/yn posts for the UF!Brothers so please tell me what you think or who I should post about next! Thank you for your time :)

Receiving:

- Words of Affirmation: 33%. He wants to be told he's appreciated, that he's loved. To have his partner check in and validate how he feels or compliment sincere things about him has him faltering because wow they actually mean it

- Physical Touch: 23%. Gentle brush against his cheek, hugging him, or holding him when he's tired despite acting like he doesn't care makes him feel safe. Feeling their hands rub over his own gives him a sense of intimacy he craves

- Acts of Service: 23% Doing something to relieve him of stress, rubbing his back, or giving him a massage when he's tense fills him with appreciation. He's stubborn and independent, but if you offer to clean or cook with him? Teamwork is pleasant

- Quality Time: 13% He doesn't mind if he can't have time with you to himself, it's not too much of a bother. He appreciates when he gets it though, since that's when he can be vulnerable with you

- Receiving Gifts: 7%. Don't worry about getting him gifts, and if you do just make sure to get one for Doomfanger. He appreciates a bouquet at times though

Giving:

- Acts of Service: 37% so what if he's busy? He'll offer to run errands for you, help with chores, and even coax you that he'll handle it. He wants to make things less stressful for you

- Physical Touch: 30% He'll ruffle your hair, wrap an arm around you, or even set you in his lap so that he can help you rest. He'll make sure no one wakes you up

- Quality Time: 13% He'll make sure you both go on dates, to pamper you. Let him treat you to a nice outing, he wants to show that he wants days alone with you

- Words of Affirmation: 10% he's not the most vocal about his affection, but he will tell you that you did well on things or praise you to others when you come up

- Receiving Gifts: 10% Don't even try to argue that what he buys for you is expensive, you deserve it. He'll remember all the things you like, and make sure to pamper you when you go shopping

_______________________________________________

Details:

He's very closed off emotionally, but being sincere with him and coaxing him to be more relaxed is a way to start. He appreciates a lover who checks in on him and shows kindness and patience when it comes to how he acts. He will have to be shown respect, and you have to show why he should respect you. He likes someone who's confident, someone who at least can defend themselves or those they love. He appreciates someone who's open-minded, and is respectful when that person doesn't treat him like shit when they first meet. He's hard to talk to because he dances around how he feels, always acting like he doesn't care or that he's indifferent about trivial matters such as drama. He doesn't bother to interact around drama, especially if you aren't close. However, he's willing to take care of you

Overtime he'll start to do small favors or want to see you specifically for an opinion. He can be very blunt, but overall theatrical too. People don't like that he's blunt, but he doesn't realize that he can be borderline rude in the process. If someone is willing to be patient, he will appreciate them and work on himself. Though, you may not see the differences he makes since it takes time and acute attention. Doomfanger also has to approve of you. He thinks that it is very important that you get her approval. If she doesn't like you, then good luck getting Pitch to be interested.

Getting this guy to realize that he has a crush on you would be a challenge. He would have to develop a strong friendship with you first. When he's romantically interested, even if he doesn't realize it, he'll practice being a gentleman and he tones down a lot when it comes to his theatrical behavior. He'll deny that he thought of you when he gets you something, or find any reason to explain his affection. He'll accidentally let it slip if you thank him, his eye lights widening and going "wait, really??" To a sudden cough and a "i MEAN-! Of course you do, I have excellent tastes."

When he starts to become aware of how he feels, his throat tightens and he feels his soul starts to act weird. He would actually first think that he's dying, or that he's troubled with sickness. In fact, it would have to be pointed out by someone he can talk to in order to realize how he feels. If it's Cyperus, he's told directly "have you considered that you might be in love?" Or if it's Lunar, he is teased with "oh of course you must be terribly sick. It's not like you would actually just be in love, right?" And he'd stoke a confession out of Pitch to make him realize. He would struggle to confess, and in fact he can be pretty restrained when he realizes how he feels for you. He stumbles, his cold persona crumbles. He finds himself doing things, letting his guard down. No, that can't be the case. He can't actually be in love, right????

When it comes to dates, he's a huge romantic and will take you to fancy restaurants or to the theatre, the opera, a play, or orchestra. He hopes you don't find them lame. He doesn't aim to please you in every aspect, but he wants approval from you. Hell be happy if you ramble about the date and you can gossip about the actors. He'll start to dress you up and tend to you while scolding you lightly. He's protective and overall willing to confront someone if they bother you. He's less discreet than the others, calling them out on their behavior and demands an apology. He'll only be pleased if they do so, and then he'll talk shit afterwards. He's intimidating, and he won't be afraid to get physical if they dare try to. He doesn't expect to be thanked and he doesn't do it just because you're lovers. He cares about you, and no one should be acting that way to begin with. It's a moral principle. If he's thanked, he'll brush it off and instead make sure to check on you physically even if you weren't touched. If you're shaken, he'll wrap you in his jacket or scarf and then gently rub your back before he takes you home without a word.

His confession sounds more like a promise, if anything. He would have to be alone with you, for starters. Imagine being up late at night, and you were having a busy day. Pitch would be the one to pick you up, especially since he would've shown more anxiety in where you are so late. When he picks you up, he'd start to scold you. After all, you should be home! But then he'd notice something. You're more quiet, and he recognizes that look on your face. He would be unsure of how to react, especially since you never let yourself be seen like this when around just him. Cyperus would be much better for this, he thinks. He obviously is the better one to go to. But then again, you chose to let him pick you up over Cyperus. You even thanked him when he picked you up. It would be quiet in the car for a while.

As you stare out the window on the way home, you suddenly notice that this isn't the way home. You'd turn to ask what he's doing, but he'd only give you a vague response. He decided that you need to go somewhere, you clearly would struggle answering questions from the other skeletons if you went home right now. You two would drive around town for awhile, hearing him mumble incoherently to himself. It would be then that he suddenly thinks of a place to take you.

He would park near the park, and gently coax you to join him. He'd scold you that you should've dressed warmer, but only gently. He'd wrap his scarf around you, move his jacket to rest over your shoulders. You two would walk, and it would be quiet. He struggles knowing how to comfort someone, how to get you to feel better. He would ask what's wrong, but he would only pry a bit if you don't open up immediately. He'd tell you that you won't feel better if you don't talk to someone, and it's okay if you don't want to talk to him about it. He'd confess that he just...wants to know if you're okay and if he's useful in any way. It's okay if you want to talk to someone else, and he knows that he's not great at this.

He'd have this softened look, but there clearly is a concealed vulnerability he is expressing. After a bit, you'd slowly talk to him and reassure him that you actually appreciate what he's doing. He took you out for a walk to clear your thoughts, considered how you'd be overwhelmed if you went home, and even checked up on you without demanding to know.

You'd take his hand, the roughness of his scars dipped into by your fingertips as you rubbed the back of his hand. He would tell you to stop that, he's supposed to be the one to check up on you. But you can see that he appreciates the reassurance, that he is listening to what you're saying. After some talking, you would open up a bit to how you're feeling. You felt like he cared to know now, after all. He would say some stuff that isn't the typical comforting words, like how he asks if you want him to fight for you. He'd talk shit about what bothered you, and tell you that you should've punched someone or that you should've cursed someone out.

He'd accidentally get you to laugh but not understand, not until you tell him. He's just- different. But that's a good thing. You appreciate that he was able to be supportive, that he was almost defending you and reacting how you would've reacted if you were less reasonable. At this he'd kinda seem offended, but you can tell he isn't taking it badly. "What?? Are you saying that I'm wrong? Clearly, I'm right! How dare you laugh," which would only get you to laugh some more. "You insult me." But you don't realize that as you're laughing, he's looking at you with a gentleness that is unfamiliar to anyone.

Time would pass, and you didn't realize that he walked you near a pond that's in the park. It's illuminated by fairy lights since the wooden fencing around the park is decorated. You'd be in awe and thank him. He would take it in stride and tell you that it's only reasonable he took you somewhere that could clear your mind.

At some point, you both sit together, and he gently asks if you enjoyed tonight. You'd tell him that yes, this was genuinely a nice time. You would be suddenly surprised as he turns to look at you intently, but not with that determined and rough look he always has. He'd take your hands in his own gently, since he doesn't want you to get accidentally clawed or have his chipped scars scrape you. He'd speak very softly, confess that he's happy that he is able to be there for you.

In truth, he knows that he's not someone you may go to a lot, but he always wants to do right by you. He wants to be someone you can rely on; he promises you that he'll do his best to make sure that you're happy and safe. He'd hesitantly lower his skull and nuzzle his cheek against one of your hands before looking at you, his defenses down. He tells you that you don't have to know how to feel now, or have anything to say since he's never made such a confession of loyalty to someone, at least among the others.

He'd take you home after that, and make sure that your conversation with him remains private, telling the other skeletons that he just picked you up and made sure that you felt better after such a long day. It was technically the truth, but he didn't mention any details to avoid further prying. With everything, he'd wish you goodnight, and that would be that. Truly, it was an eventful night

Closing Notes: I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I want him I wa

#headcanon #undertale au #alternate universe #uf papyrus #fell papyrus #fell papyrus x reader #uf papyrus x reader #pitch x reader #pitch serrif #he is bbg #i love him #i want him #please hear me out #hes so fine #roomate au

44 notes · View notes

aengelren · 1 year ago

Text

nobody knows my body better than Eren, we go way back in fanfiction

#oh Eren and I? we’ve been rockstar girlfriend and boyfriend #we’ve been childhood friends to enemies #we’ve been strangers to one night stand #we’ve been the toxic angsty couple it couple #roomate au #whatever world or scenario you can think of? yup. him and i have been there #not to brag #Eren thoughts

22 notes · View notes

humanspiral · 7 months ago

Text

How would y'all feel about roommate! Bakugo messages?

#x reader #⋅˚₊‧ ୨ yapping !! ୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅#izuku midoriya x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha x reader #mha #mha x reader angst #roomate au

19 notes · View notes

emotiandon · 1 month ago

Text

⋆. ˚You still have me˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

𓂃⋆. ˚ ۶ৎ Synopsis; You still have me, where Tobin finds his hand interwoven with Odette’s as she makes sure he still had arms and legs.

or, a tale where boy meets hospital as his crush plays nurse

𓂃⋆. ˚ The lovers; Tobin x Odette (Todette)

𓂃⋆. ˚ ۶ৎ 5+1 things ۶ৎ friends to lovers (flovers) ۶ৎ modern au ۶ৎ roomates to lovers (rolovers) ۶ৎ roomate (Au!) ۶ৎ broke x rich ۶ৎ fluff ۶ৎ tw! Mentions of hospitals, injuries

𓂃⋆. ˚1. CUT/E ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

March. 29. 5:41pm

“Tobin...You’re going to die at this rate”

A sigh could be heard as Odette watches her roommate hold his finger up with a sheepish grin. The main suspect? The kitchen knife that sits on the kitchen bench with the vegetables and the simmering of the stove, now long forgotten. Odette misses how his eyes linger on her fingers that brush his skin, the band aid clinging onto his hand before she lays it down on top of the small cut.

“There, you still have a finger.” Odette’s voice is a whisper as their eyes meet for a second longer than it should, before she pulls away to leave Tobin to continue cooking. The stove hums louder as Tobin bit his cheek, he tries to hide his chuckle at the band aid’s cute design of a cartoon cat. His face was red as sweat drips down his chin, he was sure it wasn’t from the loss of blood or the heat of the stove.

𓂃 ⋆. ˚2. Hot ₊۶ৎ˙⋆

March. 30. 7:09am

“Dottie!”

Tobin whines, his face scrunches up; a hiss falls out of his lips. His arm looks more like he placed it into the oven, though burning himself with boiling water wasn't far from baking himself.

"You still have an arm- don't worry Tobin"

Odette reminds as she holds his arm under the shower tap, the cold-water drips down as she grabs his hoodie sleeve and scrunches it up to his elbow though the water still catches on and soaks the material as he flushes.

"You're so hot Tobin" His roommate mutters as Tobin splutters his face burning up more than his arm had "w-what?" He coughs out surprised Odette of all people confessed that- it was not one of the made-up scenarios he made in his head. “You’re really burning up” she mumbles pressing the back of her hand to his cheek “Fever?”

𓂃⋆. ˚3. Flushed ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

March. 31. 7:10am

The fan quietly hums as each spin counts the seconds he has left. Tobin’s teeth clatter, his face is hot and flushed- maybe by the proximity, maybe the fever overtaking his senses, maybe. Tobin holds a staring contest with the ceiling as he keeps repeating her words, you’re so hot Tobin, he doesn’t notice Odette sits next to him with a damp cloth and medicine.

“You still have a head” Odette reassures Tobin as she presses a cold cloth on his head, brushing his hair out of his face the brown strands catching on her nails. Click the bottle cracked as she carefully pours the medicine onto the spoon before placing her thumb on his chin parting his lips. They lock eyes as words are long forgotten as she slowly fed him the medicine.

Tobin’s fingers hesitates before he catches her wrist with a coy expression. “Thanks” he mumbles looking away, his mind seems more focused on the thread poking out of the quilt.

𓂃⋆. ˚4. Falling for her ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

April. 10. 8:00pm

After the whole fever fiasco, there wasn’t a whisper or a mention of how the air changed between them, how there was brushes against skin that lasted a second longer or how their eyes gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment too long. Tobin watches his roommate hold her new pointe shoes, the overpriced ballet shoes that cost more than what Tobin could ever earn in a lifetime.

One moment he was watching his roommate fumble with her keys, the next his foot gets caught on the stair a harsh crack sound rings as he can only see each speck on the concrete. Odette rushes over to his side as she kneels beside him, her frows furrow as she helps him up. “You still have a leg though” Odette mumbles as she helps him up though Tobin stumbles in her arms.

“I think- fuck!” Tobin hisses as he holds his foot “I think it’s actually broken Dottie.”

𓂃⋆. ˚5. Broke˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

April. 10. 9:59pm

Odette’s chin finds comfort in the curve of his neck as Tobin lays his head on top of hers, his arm slung over hers as his fingers drum on her shoulder. The boy tries to ignore the pain in his right leg and tries to focus on her soft breaths that draw goosebumps on his neck.

“You still have a leg” Odette says, pulling away from his neck to look at him.

“Still have you” Tobin says in a small voice taking a sharp breath as he feels a sharp draw of pain, though he groans more when he realises that he doesn’t have the money to cover this. Reading his mind Odette tilts her head as she takes his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay” She reassured, her thumb rubbing his hand smoothing over his nerves “You know it won’t scratch the surface of my bank account” The uninjured girl chuckles prompting Tobin to laugh alongside her. Blue eyes meet brown as the ER chatter was the sound of crickets humming in the back as the two are drawn into each other like a magnet. Their breath shortens and mixes, as his nose bumps into hers, the soft ‘clink’ sound is drawn out as their teeth meet and her lip finds his.

𓂃⋆. ˚5.1 matching. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

Tobin’s eyes linger on her figure as Odette gracefully spins like one of those ballerinas in the music box, each kick and move of the hand was the tick of a clock hands. His crutch was seated next to him as Tobin shifts the clunky cast as he tries to get more comfortable watching his girl like she was the brightest star in the sky, to him Odette was the most beautiful swan in the lake of dancers.

The practice room mirrors reflect her image as each step is precise and controlled like the woman dancing. Tobin doesn’t understand half of the steps, turns, or their names, but he knows his younger sisters always wanted to try the art though he couldn’t afford the classes.

Adrenaline rushes to Tobin as he watches the scene, even if he was a simple bystander the feeling was shared. One moment she was prancing around, doing leaps and jumps that makes any frog wish they had her prowess, the next she was on the floor holding her ankle.

Odette takes a shaky breath as she holds her ankle, trying to forget the pain. Tobin rushes over to her side to lift her up to the best of his abilities, though his cast was making the process slower than Tobin would’ve liked. Odette sits on the bench as a grunt escapes her lips “I think I sprained it” She mumbles her eyes fluttering close as Tobin wraps an arm around her.

“You still have an ankle, and you still have me” He hummed as the two sit in silence for a while, taking in the situation. “Now we’re matching.” Her roommate chuckles, giving her a crooked smile as he shows off their injured legs “And it’s my turn to help” Tobin chuckles.

𓂃⋆. ˚. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

𓂃⋆. ˚Omake. ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

May. 1. 4:40pm

The afternoon sun seeps through the curtains as Tobin hides his face in Odette’s chest, trying to run away from the sun’s gaze. She kisses his head, her sweet words lost in the sea of messy brown locks as Tobin clutches into the beige hoodie she ‘borrowed’ from him. The TV was a suggestion for his mind, the movie only a quiet tune as he traces his lips over her collarbone trying to ingrain every part of her body into his mind.

“At least take me on a date first” Tobin jokes, not thinking too much about the words as he admires her, as Odette’s hand trails from the crown that is hidden by his hair as her purple nail catches onto the back of his shirt. Blue eyes flutter shut as she considers his words, Odette hums as she gives him a lopsided grin that shows where her lipstick had smeared and transferred off.

“I will” She grins with a nonchalant expression on her face that makes Tobin start blushing redder than any apple. Odette chuckles as she tilts her head watching him get redder each second at the implication. “Don’t worry we can just go on a coffee date at Atlas’s, or something” The blue haired girl shrugged as Tobin groans, hiding his face in the hood of her hoodie. A brown eye peaks out as he has a coy smile coming onto his features. “Evil.” he groans as Odette smiles mumbling a soft I love you.

𓂃⋆. ˚. Notes;

I better have gotten a good grade for my English assignment (yes i did write todette for english)

First fanfic i should write more lmaoooooo think of this as a belated Valentine’s Day fic

“I’ll upload this the next day” It’s the next month and I still haven’t uploaded it 💀 uhmnnn this was started in feb why is it March now 💀💀💀💀

Heavily decorated since i cannot for the life of me have it non aesthetic

Really tried to make rhis ‘you belong with me’ but i couldnt do it sry taylor

Creds: @/nemfrog @/adornedwithlight @/rookthornesartistry @/riottspngs @/takawoyu (i cant find the other pngs used (´；Д；`))

2 notes · View notes

crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 2 years ago

Text

bug

(all posts for this AU will be under the tag # roomate AU!)

#ethan winters #leon kennedy #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil fanart #rebhfun #lethan #roomate AU

4K notes · View notes

vantewanderlust · 2 months ago

Text

dimple | KTH & MYG

Yoongi can’t escape the sting of those words. No matter how many times they echo in his head, they remain incomprehensible. How could she say she doesn’t love him anymore? They were supposed to be forever, weren’t they? A decade together, the wedding just weeks away… But she’s gone, leaving him with nothing but questions and a shattered future.

Just as he’s on the edge of a breakdown, there’s a knock on the door. He opens it to a man—blonde hair, face flushed with fury. Fury he recognises too well.

In a matter of seconds, Taehyung, the man standing before him, offers him a vacant room in his apartment.

Yoongi, heart heavy and mind spinning, says yes.

What else is there to do when the world has gone completely mad, except go mad himself?

✧.* Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Min Yoongi;

✧.* Warnings: roomate au; fluff; romance; eventual +18; explicit language; eventual smut; taehyung is bissexual; yoongi is bissexual; non-idol au; friends to lovers.

✧.* Theme song: Dimple by BTS.

"You hide but only appear when you smile Where did you come from? Don't lie, I know you're an angel What are you?"

Prologue.

“I don’t love you anymore. I want to be with him.”

Words.

Knifes.

Daggers.

Heartbreak.

Words.

They replayed in his mind, over and over, as if they were an endless loop he couldn’t escape.

The clock on the wall ticked slowly, mocking him with each second that passed, each one driving the pain deeper. He should’ve been excited, planning their future, preparing for the wedding that was just weeks away.

But now, all he had were the fragments of a life he thought would last forever.

What a fucking misery.

She had been everything to him—the love of his life, right? Or was she the person he had loved the most until now? He couldn’t really tell. Not anymore.

They had shared so much, built so many memories together, all leading to this moment.

She was gone.

Just like that.

With another man.

How could she do this?

How could she just walk away from him so easily?

He stood up, his legs unsteady, as if the ground beneath him no longer felt solid. His eyes wandered to the framed photo on the shelf—her smiling face, their hands intertwined, the promise of forever in her eyes. It mocked him now, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.

He tried to think of something—anything—that made sense, but his mind was clouded with confusion and pain.

What had he missed?

What had gone wrong?

They were happy, weren’t they?

They had talked about marriage, about growing old together.

And now?

Now, she was with him.

Whoever him was.

Yoongi dragged a hand through his hair, a frustrated growl escaping his lips. No matter how many times he replayed that conversation, the words were still there, searing into his soul.

She had left him.

And he didn’t know how to make sense of it.

The house—her house—felt like a suffocating prison.

Yoongi’s eyes scanned the space, the walls feeling cold, sterile, and too quiet. He was supposed to be gone in days, but the weight of it all pressed down on him, relentless and overwhelming.

He thought he could handle it.

He thought he could walk away with some semblance of control.

But there was nothing—no direction, no plan, no idea where to even start.

He was standing in the middle of a life he didn’t recognise, and he couldn’t breathe.

The irony was maddening.

He had money, enough to stay somewhere else, to find a new place, but it didn’t matter. The thought of apartment hunting in Seoul, where the market is more a maze than a system, filled him with a dread he couldn’t shake.

He couldn’t just throw himself into it like some desperate search for a fresh start.

Nothing felt fresh.

Not there, not at that moment.

Not without her.

The air felt too thick, suffocating, as if he were trying to breathe underwater.

Every plan he might have had for the future had crumbled, leaving him with the cold reality of being lost in a city that had never seemed more alien to him.

Just as he thought he might collapse under the weight of it all, a sharp knock echoed through the house.

His head snapped up, heart racing, as though the sound had yanked him out of the fog clouding his mind. He stumbled toward the door like wading through mud.

He was exhausted.

When he opened it, a man stood on the other side—blonde hair, his face flushed with what looked like fury.

The stranger glared at him, his eyes wild, almost desperate.

“I need to speak with Minjun.” He demanded, his voice tight with urgency.

Yoongi blinked, disoriented. Minjun? The name didn’t register. He didn’t know the man.

But the tension radiating from him, the way his fists clenched at his sides, all of it screamed trouble.

Without thinking, Yoongi’s hand tightened around the door handle. For a moment, everything froze. His mind raced, and instinct kicked in, sharp and defensive.

“No one by that name lives here.” Yoongi muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion as he started to close the door.

The man stepped forward, his anger flaring like a live wire. “Don’t lie to me.” He snapped, his voice rising. “I know he’s here. I know he’s…”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed.

This wasn’t his problem.

He didn’t owe this guy anything.

And the last thing he needed was to get caught up in someone else’s mess.

“Get lost.” He growled, pressing hard against the door.

The man stared at him for a long moment, his eyes burning with frustration, before he moved.

Yoongi barely had time to react before he barged in, a force of raw fury shoving the door wide open. The stranger stumbled forward, eyes blazing, and for a moment, Yoongi froze, unsure whether to step back or hold his ground.

“Where the hell is he?!” His voice was sharp, full of accusation, as he scanned the room frantically. “That bastard has been hiding in here, hasn’t he? I know what’s going on. You think I don’t know? He’s been screwing his secretary and now he’s hiding out here like some coward!”

The words struck him like a slap, his mind racing as the pieces began to fall into place.

Minjun.

That was his name.

Right.

Obviously.

Yoongi’s stomach churned, the silence between them thick and suffocating.

The man’s rage filled the room, but all Yoongi could feel was the bitter taste of betrayal rising in his throat.

“Minjun’s not here.”

Yoongi hesitated, his mind spinning, before his lips parted, and he forced the truth out. “I... I’m the fiancé…” The word felt foreign on his tongue, like it didn’t belong to him anymore. He swallowed hard, and with a bitter laugh, he corrected himself. “Ex-fiancé. Of his... secretary.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unmoving.

The man froze, his posture stiffening as realisation dawned on him.

The rage in his expression flickered, like a flame struggling to hold on before it finally began to dim.

A suffocating silence followed, stretching endlessly as neither of them found the words to break it.

To break even more their broken hearts.

“Minju’s not here.” Yoongi repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, the words sounding more like an admission than an answer.

An admission of the pain.

For a moment, it felt like all the tension had drained away, leaving only exhaustion and the quiet ache of shared betrayal.

Yoongi exhaled deeply, dragging a hand through his hair as the full weight of everything he’d been avoiding came crashing down on him.

“I don’t know where they are.” He muttered, finally breaking the silence. His voice sounded worn, even to himself. “Anna and Minjun… God knows where they’re staying. All I know is, they’re not here.” He glanced around the room, the space that had once felt like home now reduced to a unfamiliar shell. “The only person in this house is me. And I’m just… trying to figure out how to pack up my life and get out of here since this is her place.”

He paused, his words catching in his throat as the reality of his situation settled in, heavy and immovable. “I don’t even have anywhere to go.”

He couldn’t stop.

He was saying it out loud for a stranger to hear.

But he just couldn’t stop.

The man standing before him kept watching, his posture rigid but his expression softening, if only slightly.

The fiery anger that had consumed him minutes ago had disappeared, replaced by something quieter, something hesitant.

He crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing as if he was turning over an idea in his mind.

“I have a spare room.”

What?

“Excuse me?”

“Look.” He continued, his tone begrudging. “This is probably the worst idea I’ve ever had, but…” He hesitated, visibly weighing his next words before finally pressing on. “I’ve got an extra room at my place. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, I suppose.”

Yoongi blinked, thrown off guard. “You’re offering me a place to stay?”

“I guess I know what it’s like to have your life ripped out from under you.” He shrugged. “I’m not saying we’re going to be friends or anything, but you need a place, and I’ve got space. Take it or leave it.”

Yoongi stared at him, the offer hanging in the air like a lifeline he wasn’t sure he could grab.

His instincts screamed at him to say no, to refuse out of pride or sheer disbelief.

But the truth was, he had no options.

Actually he had, but he didn’t want them.

He just wanted to sleep.

To rest.

To cry.

And maybe, just maybe, being around someone who understood even a fraction of what he was feeling wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Yoongi finally exhaled slowly, the knot in his chest loosening ever so slightly.

“…Alright.” He said, his voice steadier than he felt. “I’ll take it.”

The man nodded once, sharp and decisive. “Good. Pack your stuff. I’ll wait.” He turned toward the door but paused before stepping out. “By the way… I’m Taehyung.”

“Yoongi.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

Taehyung didn’t say anything in return, but there was a faint flicker of something—understanding, maybe—in his expression as he stepped out, leaving Yoongi alone in the quiet house.

The silence no longer felt quite as suffocating as it had before.

What else is there to do when the world has gone completely mad, except go mad himself?

3 notes · View notes