#Roomate AU

[reikiwie-art]

🏡💙roomate au 1/? just a cute idea with them‼️🫶 and maybe a part 2 i'll see!! a first visit !! idk !!

[cssandraa]

undertale yellow roomate au based on the uty anniversary stream

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

gogurt

[llmsos]

@crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington lethan au‼️‼️ smth abt Ethan being the more unsettling one out of the two is UGHGHGH

[zethsnex]

Dreamzablade arguing on what telenovela to watch and then the intro to La Rosa de Guadalupe starts playing

They stop fighting, sit down, and eat popcorn as they watch the horrible acting skills and the over dramatic zoom-ins and slow motion scenes

[spjafterhours]

little heads up ;o]

[bucket-crafts]

Happy pride have this little clownzy warm up drawing I did :D

[skeleton-mischief]

❤️🎸UF!Sans x Reader🎸❤️

As requested, I'm doing the Underfell Brothers for some personal headcanons I have! I really love these skeletons, but each brother will have their own post! Tell me what you think, or what you want to request next! Thank you for reading, enjoy :-)

Love Languages:

Receiving:

- Quality Time: 37%. He feels like someone actually wants him around, and he appreciates seeing his partner be interested in what he says or enjoys. He appreciates a partner who doesn't dismiss him, it means a lot

- Physical Touch: 23%. To have someone kiss his skull or to excitedly run up to him makes him flustered, since he doesn't expect someone to so openly be affectionate with him. Sure, he'll weakly protest that they don't have to hug him or hold his hand, but he'll enjoy the feeling

- Words of Affirmation: 20% Being told supportive comments and even being complimented sometimes makes him shut down. He doesn't expect sincerity but when he gets it he doesn't know how to react, but appreciates it

- Gift Giving: 13%. If he's gifted something that he really likes, he'll kinda stare at it then at you with a hint of disbelief. He doesn't think someone actually cared enough to get him something, but he'll always use the gift when he can, and he'll be possessive of it

- Acts of Service: 7%. He usually prefers to do things himself if need be, but if he wakes up to see that his partner made him breakfast? He'll call you the best thing to ever grace the earth

Giving:

- Physical Touch: 32%. Don't be surprised if he grabs your hand in public while looking away from you, or if he rests his head on you when you're busy. He trusts his partner enough to even lay his skull on their lap

- Quality Time: 29%. He wants you to know that he wants to be around you, show his interest by hanging out where he can just sit and laugh around with you

- Receiving Gifts: 13%. He thinks of you often, even if he's not around you, so he'll bring gifts when he can to show he appreciates you. It can be subconscious, but he knows what you like

- Acts of Service: 16% He'll do things he doesn't particularly like, such as running an errand or a chore if he sees you're stressed. He tends to coax you to relax and handle it, even if he does it begrudgingly

- Words of Affirmation: 10% He never is good at verbally expressing himself but he tries. He'll compliment what you wear and even occasionally tease you, but he's sincere when he compliments you

_______________________________________________

Details: He loves someone who can defend themselves and be confident. To see someone be willing to be stubborn and defend what they love makes him respect you, since he finds it attractive. If he's flirted with, expect him to kinda panic though, because he's not used to it. He'll usually flirt out of playfulness and he adores banter, but he only does this in the beginning of your friendship. He'll become more at ease if you can get him to laugh or if he gets to see you be amused by his tactics. He'll even do stupid shit if he can entertain you, because he loves people who can find him entertaining.

Red isn't as pervy as some people actually think. He makes joking innuendos, but he's actually quite respectful and struggles actually acting that way. He's actually someone that would do a double take if you wore something that had just a little more skin exposure. He'll get all flustered and compliment what you're wearing, but he will struggle to know where to put his hands. He doesn't want to seem weird, so he'll usually go to hold your hand or wrap around your arm. He would need you to guide his hands to where you want them placed, and he'll make sure to hold onto you more carefully. After all, he has claws and doesn't want to damage you. He'll kind of be in awe for how squishy and warm your flesh is, and kind of just be in a slight daze about it. He would need time to be comfortable, but even then he remains respectful.

He also finds attraction to those who are more honest and don't hide behind manners, since he wants to see someone be authentic to themselves. When it comes to romantic gestures, he will rarely offer to do dates and most of the time has to be asked. He'll struggle to be formal, so he'll appreciate a partner who doesn't need that pizzazz. Still, he'll bring you gifts and try to make your day better by making sure you smile the whole time. He'll give you his undivided attention and even throw dorky flirts at you unless he's too flustered. Which then he'll say things such as "you shouldn't flirt with me, I'm mean and scary" and yet he speaks with much more gentleness and ease. He won't give a lot of obvious PDA, but he'll hold your hand or wrap an arm around you. If someone bothers you, he's much more confrontational and protective. He'll get a bit aggressive, even if he doesn't do anything outright physical. He'll wrap an arm around you, check up to make sure you're doing alright, but be glaring the whole time while smiling. He'll flaunt a bit, and sometimes he'll be too stubborn to drop the situation unless it's dangerous for you. He loves you, and no one disrespects you. He can get jealous at times, but he never makes a big show about it or ignores you/is rude to you. He'll be quieter, a bit more clingy, and even deny that he's jealous. But, if you kiss his skull and reassure him, he'll melt and feel better at the assurance

When it comes to confessing his love for you, don't expect him to actually realize he did it. He takes a long time to realize that he has a crush on you, but when he does, he gets so shy that he starts to avoid you a bit if you are alone. He would go to Vanilla to recover, but he would refuse that he's actually just a sappy dork with you if he's teased. He would be a bit more obvious about his feelings for you based off knowing he has a crush on you. If he didn't know, he would just not realize that he's falling in love. He would have to be drunk off his ASS to accidentally confess to you. Just imagine him at Grillby's, drunk as hell, and you're with him having a good time. He'd be giggling with you and laughing, but at some point he is just kinda admiring you as you're laughing. He'd rest his cheek against the palm of his hand and his eyelight would flip to a heart as he's talking. He'd kind of zone out, before he'd ask "you know, it's crazy how much I love you, y'know?" and when you're unsure if he's being serious, you'd probably just laugh and joke that sure he does, he loves that you are a dork who makes sure that he takes care of himself. But no, he'd wave his hands in a cartoonish manner and his voice would just get all soft as he's laughing. "No, no. Well, I mean, that too- But-! I mean it, sweetheart. You're just so good to me, and when I look at you my soul just can't take it. How do you even like being around me?" And when you realize he's serious, you would be a little too buzzed to know how to react. You'd kinda lean into him, tease him. Well, you like being around him because he's good. He's a good monster, one that really cares about you. He'd drink from his glass, grin at you. "Yeah, you got that right! But I don't understand how you think I'm good, sweetheart. But...I trust your opinion," and you two would be called outside by Pitch. He knows that you and Red need a ride home. You'd both stumble, too drunk to really emotionally process anything. But as you both sit in the back and Pitch is scolding you, he'd be noticeably more cuddly with you. You two would be giggling, but Pitch would realize what happened when he heard the way you two are talking. "You're a lovable skeleton, Red." "Hell yes I am, I'm Mr. Hot stuff, sweetheart!" "No, you dork. I love you beyond that!" "Well I love you more," Pitch would lessen his scolding, listen in. He knows that Red is too drunk by the time you get home. He would make sure to help you two go to bed, to drink some water. Before you two part ways, you'd hug and drunkenly laugh together. But....by morning, you would be the only one to really remember what happened. Now, tell me, what would you do then?

Closing Notes: I can totally write more about him, he's so silly and I love him but I've typed so much over here. If y'all request it though, I could totally write some stuff with actual effort put into it teehee. Thank you for reading

[storiesofsvu]

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

[aengelren]

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

[intistone]

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

[humanspiral]

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

[emotiandon]

⋆. ˚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；`))

© emotiandon : do not repost, plagiarize, translate, modify, or use any works to train ai

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

bug

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

[vantewanderlust]

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?

[zethsnex]

I know it’s not the best translation

But it’s smth