#how to decorate your bedroom on a budget

[fairmaiden8]

Designing with Restraint: Tips for Creating a Stunning Bedroom Without Breaking the Bank

Designer Bedroom Ideas on a Budget Creating a stunning bedroom doesn’t have to break the bank. Here are some designer bedroom ideas that won’t cost you an arm and a leg: 1. Invest in quality basics – Instead of buying trendy pieces, invest in classic items like a comfortable mattress, stylish sheets, and a cozy comforter set. These essentials will last for years and provide a solid foundation for…

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Lies and Butterflies

Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader

Genre: fake dating au; mostly fluff.

Word Count: 19.2k

Warnings: injuries & blood (injury is not explicitly described). joking death threats made between friends. mentions of drinking and alcoholic beverages. lying to parental figures. reader is written as single and desperate and moderately unwise (she’s actually me).

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Your roommate begged you to pretend to date him while his mom is in town for the month. The little crush you’ve had on him will either become your best friend or worst obstacle on this quest.

note: the fact that this fic came out as longer than my master's degree thesis will never not amaze me.

Your friends thought you were a naive fool for moving into Serenity Street 17, apartment 3A. Not because the neighbourhood or building was bad (if anything, they often commented about how cosy it was), but because you signed the rental agreement knowing full well you’d be sharing an apartment with a man you didn’t know. 

In your defence, you’d been hesitant to do so. However, after several reassuring comments from the building manager about how your roommate would be a perfectly sweet young gentleman (but mostly the influence of the looming end of your old rental agreement with a remaining budget from hell), you had done the insane thing and signed the agreement.

Fortunately, Joshua Hong, your new roommate, seemed like a true angel at first sight – both visually and metaphorically. Upon your arrival, he’d spent the entire weekend helping you move the heavy boxes and unbox everything (all the while you were trying your hardest to not feel weak at the sight of his gorgeous face and straining biceps). He assured you repeatedly that he’d do the dishes and cook for himself. He sent you off to work every morning with a sweet smile, a wave and a thermos full of hot coffee to start your day. 

You’d quickly learn why the neighbourhood aunties called him “Serenity Street’s gentleman”. And at first you thought he truly deserved the title.

That is until you had lived with him for a month and realised he was the dictionary definition of unpredictable. Sure, he wasn’t completely insane and most of the time he was truly the perfect roommate (as well as eye candy), but the moments when he did unleash his inner demons? Even now, many months later, you were still trying to decide if that side of him amused or scared you.

It was to the point where you and Chan, your neighbour from across the hall, had started keeping a shared list of Joshua’s wildest moments (a tradition which several of your other friends in the building soon joined). 

For one, there was the time when he decided to perform EXO’s ‘Love Shot’ with a truly unhinged choreography at the building’s monthly drunk karaoke night. The kicker? He didn’t start drinking until after the cover (probably to bury the shame he felt). 

Or the time when he mistakenly watered a fake plant for weeks and then, upon realising his mistake, proceeded to gaslight himself and everyone you knew that it had at one point been a real plant and someone must have snuck into the apartment to replace it with an identical fake one (you didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was fooling no one (but Minghao had been more than happy to share the news with him for you )).

There was also, of course, the time when he had a life-sized cardboard cut-out of himself made to decorate the living room and you couldn’t have reminded him enough of how terrifying of a sight it had been at 4 am on your way to the bathroom. To his credit, he moved the cut-out behind Jeonghan’s apartment door a week later to terrify him instead. Jeonghan has since sworn he’d get back at your roommate for it one day (and you dearly hoped he would).

Needless to say, your roommate had you living on the edge of your seat at all times. So it didn’t surprise you much when he knocked on your bedroom door at 11 pm before walking in and throwing himself head-first onto your bed.

Used to his shenanigans but well-aware of his need for attention, you just sighed and lowered the book you had spent all day looking forward to. “What’s up?”

His response was unintelligible, muffled against the sage green sheets. 

You waited a moment for him to lift his head. Nothing happened. For a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep. So you nudged him with your foot. “Shua?”

With a groan, he leaned upwards, resting on his elbows as he stared ahead and told you, “Do you think I’m too single?”

Amused and confused by the question, you blinked rapidly. “Is that even a thing? I think all single people are equally single, no?”

“I haven’t dated anyone in five years,” he told you.

“And?”

“I haven’t gone on a date in three.”

“So?”

“My mom thinks that’s too long.”

You took mild offence to that as you had been left out on the dry shores of Singleness for well over a decade – if your three-day middle-school playground marriage even counted towards this statistic, that is. If Joshua had been single for too long by his mom’s standards, then you surely must have seemed like a completely hopeless case. 

You shook the thought off and tried to seem like a supportive friend (even though your mind and soul were already lost in faraway lands, riding horses with dreamy fictional men that oddly looked like Joshua). “Why does that matter?”

“Because,” he started as if you should know this already, “she wants me to go on a blind date with her friend’s daughter. She wants to discuss it tomorrow over lunch.”

Was it too soon to tell him you sometimes daydreamed of your mom appearing at the door with a handsome young man and demanding you to go on a date with him? Maybe. Was that too desperate? Probably.

“You’re an adult man, Shua,” you told him with a scoff. “Just say no.”

“I can’t say that to my mom!”

“Why not? Because she’d be disappointed and sad?” you guessed, eyeing him with annoyance. 

He widened his eyes and all you saw in his brown irises was pure terror mixed with just a hint of frustration. “She’d lecture me!”

“Oh no,” you didn’t even try to feign any kind of an emotion before lifting your book back to your eye level, eager to get back to your reading where men didn’t trouble you with their mommy issues. “Your mom’s nice. You’ll live.”

“You could try to be more empathetic, you know,” he remarked before resting his cheek on the mattress and sighing. “What are you reading anyway? Another one of your historical romances?”

“And what if it is?” you asked.

“My mom would tell you to get off your ass and get an actual boyfriend.”

“Good thing she’s not my mom then. Men are disappointing and I only like the ones written by women.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a disappointment right now?”

There were many words you could use to describe Joshua, but a disappointment? – not one of them. Really, the only disappointing thing about the man in front of you was that he thought your valiant flirting attempts over the past six months had been a funny joke. Even if you thought he could be incredibly frustrating, you were not immune to his charms, and everyone but him seemed to know.

Still, if there was anything you liked more than being the sole object of Joshua’s attention, it was getting on his nerves as much as he did yours.

“Absolutely,” you told him with a straight face but your facade fell fast at his offended grimace. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you’re not a disappointment. I actually like you.”

Would he pick up the hint (and was it even a hint if you were practically confessing your feelings?) … ?

“I hate you,” he mumbled and buried his face back in the sheets.

… No. The answer was no.

Aside from his wild shenanigans, another thing that frustrated you about your roommate to no end was the fact that he. never. read. his. messages. And yet, when he messaged you, he expected an answer ASAP. 

And if you didn’t reply within 2 minutes … ?

Your phone vibrated and rang, his contact photo bright and colourful on your phone screen. You could barely keep back from cursing under your breath before offering your co-workers an apologetic smile and rushing out to the breakroom to answer the call. 

You took a deep calming breath before putting on your best customer service-able smile and speaking into the microphone, “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” came the short reply. Was it just you or did he sound winded? 

As if he could see you through the radio waves, you theatrically glanced around the building before deadpanning, “At work. Like every Tuesday at 1 pm.”

 “Right,” he breathed out after a pause and suddenly you were worried. 

The Joshua you knew never hesitated to match your sarcastic remarks with ones of his own. There was rarely any bite to his words but you appreciated that he at least tried to match your energy (or maybe you had unknowingly matched his and you were fated to meet). But this? This hadn’t been a sarcastic remark.

“Are you okay?” you spoke, tone softening. “Did something happen?”

“You know how I had that lunch thing with mom today?” he asked after a sigh. 

You nodded before realising he couldn’t actually see you. “Yeah?”

“She brought up her friend’s daughter again and I panicked and–” He cut himself off with a laugh but it sounded anything but joyful. No, it sounded frustrated and disbelieving and like he was about five seconds from a mental breakdown. You found yourself holding your breath as you waited for his laughter to stop. When it did, he sighed again. “Can you come home early?”

The answer was obviously no. You couldn’t just leave your job to cater to your roommate's frenzies. You had made it a point to never ask for any unnecessary time off at all, eager to prove yourself at the office. You had only worked here for five months. Besides, you had goals and a dream and–

“Please?” he added. He sounded so soft, so fragile, so worried.

You squeezed your eyes shut and lied to yourself that your boss wouldn’t hate you if you just told him you had a horrible, perhaps borderline ER-worthy migraine and needed to go home ASAP. Or was that too risky? Would he ask for a doctor’s note? What’s the other option?

“If my boss emails you and asks if our apartment was flooded today, you tell him yes and that you almost drowned,” you finally told him, unable to believe you were about to blatantly lie to your boss, before swiping across your screen to end the call. 

“You’re home,” he breathed out when you stepped through the door half an hour later. 

You found him sitting on the living room sofa. He was still wearing his best white shirt and if it weren’t for the mess of hair on his head, he would’ve looked like he had just gotten ready to go out.

You shrugged off your jacket. “I would really like an explanation.”

“Yeah,” he sighed and rubbed his face. “Where do I start? Um… Well, my mom’s coming to stay with us for a month.”

Your jaw dropped. “A month?! Why? Did something happen to her house?”

“No,” he seemed almost pained to tell you so. With a gentle grip on your hand, he led you to sit next to him on the sofa. “You know how she was trying to set me up with her friend’s daughter?”

You nodded, raising a brow. “What about it? Was it, like, an ex or something?”

“Well, no, but,” he took a deep breath and turned to stare at the wall, eyes wide as if he was expecting something to crash as he spoke, “I might have panicked and said something bad.”

“Such as?” you urged, leaning closer.

Getting red in the face, he really looked like the words he needed had wedged themselves in his throat and were rebelling, refusing to come out. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to make even a single sound, but you still heard nothing. 

Your patience was running thinner by the second. “Joshua, I lied to my boss because of you. Spit it out or, I swear to god, I will make that lie a reality and drown you in the bathtub.”

The threat seemed to motivate him plenty. He let out a soft whine before blurting, “I told her I can’t go on a date with Mary because we’re dating.”

This man never failed to surprise, scare and worry you. And this time you were scared for the both of you. “You told her what?! We?! As in you and me?!”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with desperate and terrified sparkling doe eyes. “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to make her feel bad and I panicked and I lied and I swear I’ll make it up to you! Whatever you want! Anything. I am so, so sorry.”

You didn’t even have the words to say. Frozen in your seat, you stared at him, trying your hardest to get your brain to reset so you could discover you simply had fallen asleep at your desk and this was all a dream. Was it a dream or was it a nightmare? You’d decide later.

When you hadn’t responded for nearly a minute, Joshua gently nudged your hand. “Hey, are you okay? I’m sorry, okay?”

But when you still remained silent without even as much as moving your eyes, he quickly added, “I’ll just fess up, yeah? I’ll tell her I panicked and lied and I’ll go on that date. Just please don’t be mad at me, okay?”

You held your hand up to stop him. “It’s fine. I just… I need a moment.”

“Yeah…” He breathed in relief before nodding and agreeing, “Yeah. Anything you want. I’ll…I can…  Do you want water? Tea? I could make cocoa.”

“Just water’s fine,” you told him almost robotically as you stared into space, rubbing your temples as if that would somehow make it easier to process the absolutely bizarre situation you had found yourself in because, no, unfortunately (or fortunately?) this was not a dream. This was your reality.

As he scurried over to the kitchen, you tried to wrap your mind around … well, everything. 

It felt like a cruel joke. All these months of pining after your handsome roommate, making him heart-shaped toast and pancakes, fixing his shirt collar as he prepared to leave for work, practically flat-out confessing to him – and here he was, practically throwing himself at you. 

But none of it was real. He wasn’t actually into you. It was just a panicked reaction. He’d just thought of the first age-appropriate woman that came to his mind – it was only you because you were roommates and spent so much time together. There were no feelings involved on his end. 

But on yours? You willed your heart to stop fluttering and pounding and threatening to beat out of your chest at the mere idea of dating Joshua Hong. 

“Here,” he spoke softly as he placed a cold glass of water into your hand and took his seat next to you. He watched for a while as you took a miniscule sip and continued staring into nothingness, lost in your thoughts. He hesitated to speak. “I really am sorry. I just wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared and–”

“I seemed like a safer option than Mary?” you finished for him, giving him a knowing look. “C’mon, is she really that bad?”

No, you’re just that much better is what you wished he’d say. Then you’d have at least something to hold onto.

Joshua offered a half-hearted smile. “Mom said Mary is really into haunted buildings and ghost hunting, so…”

Did that make you much better than her? Very debatable. But you were willing to take just about anything reminiscent of a win.

“Sounds dreadful,” you replied, matching his smile. “So what happens now?”

“Well,” he seemed hesitant all over again, as if no progress had been made at all. He quickly forced himself out of that headspace and met your eyes, “I could call my mom and tell her I lied…”

You sensed an ‘or’. Raising an eyebrow, you silently asked him to finish the thought.

He took a stuttering breath before grimacing. “Or we go on with the lie and pretend to date for a while.”

Option B is what your heart shouted. Please pick option B, even if it’s all a lie.

“A while being…?” you forced yourself to nitpick instead of immediately jumping into his arms and agreeing. 

He kissed his teeth. “A month-ish.”

“A month?!”

“Mom didn’t fully, entirely, really believe me,” Joshua supplied with an apologetic look, “so I bluffed a little and she said she’d come stay with us for a while to see it for herself and… I sort of agreed to let her stay a month.”

A month of (fake) dating Joshua Hong, your hot roommate, the very subject of your daydreams? You weren’t sure whether you wanted to scream in joy or cry in despair.

“Okay,” you breathed out and gulped. “We can– We can do a month… right?”

“Right.” He didn’t seem any more sure of than you.

“How long ‘til she comes here?”

“Two days.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

[DAY 1, FRIDAY]

Having read and watched a fair share of romantic comedies, you were adamant that there was no need for a ‘fake dating contract’. You and Joshua were roommates and good friends; surely just a verbal agreement of boundaries would suffice. You’d just tell him your boundaries and he’d tell you yours. 

In an ideal world, that is.

But in the real world, there was a knock on the door before you could even begin to whisper about the idea of boundaries.

While sharing a startled look with you, Joshua crept towards the door and peeked through peephole. 

“It’s her,” he breathed out and offered you one last grimace before opening the door. His voice went from tormented to overjoyed so fast you felt it give you a whiplash, “Mom! Hi! Let me help with your suitcase.”

Showtime (except this was not a theatre, and you didn’t have even the semblance of a script to play out, and you sucked at improv). Putting on your best smile, you stood up just as they entered the living room. 

“There she is!” his mother called out and rushed over to give you a warm hug. “Look at you! As good-looking as always!”

Your cheeks felt a little warm at that. “You look great too!”

“Oh, I know,” she joked and gave your shoulder a friendly pat. Then her friendly expression morphed into something more sinister. “So, dating, huh?”

If your cheeks had felt warm before, they were positively burning now. You tried to find your voice again, even offered a look to Joshua who could only respond with an equally nervous wide-eyed look. Finally, you cleared your throat and answered, “Yeah. We’re still kind of getting used to it ourselves.”

“I always knew you two would end up together,” she gushed, smiling ear to ear and winking at you between sentences. “Took you a while though. I was already starting to worry about my Joshua.”

“Yeah,” you heard him mumble, “me too.”

“Will you join us for dinner?” you asked her, trying to steer the topic away from the inevitable chit-chat about your almost-non-existent relationship.

She hummed in thought – a habit Joshua must have picked up from her, you realised – and nodded as she looked around the living room. “Of course. Let me just get settled in and put on more comfortable clothes. Where can I unpack?”

Your “boyfriend” and you shared a wide-eyed look. This is why you never did improv! 

“You can have my room,” Joshua finally spoke all the while still having that very same panicked expression. “I’ll get it set up real quick.”

His mother paused, confused (and was that a glint of suspicion in her eyes?). “You don’t sleep together?”

You could’ve fried an egg on your cheeks with how hot they felt. “Oh, we–”

“Like she said,” Joshua interrupted, forcing a smile that almost looked convincing, “we’re still kind of settling into this whole relationship thing. We’re taking it slow.”

“I’m glad to give you a push in the right direction,” she told him with a chuckle. “You can’t leave someone like (Y/n) just waiting. She’ll get bored of you, and then what?”

He laughed shortly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Like always.”

He nodded before tugging on the crook of your elbow to drag you with him. “Sweetie, why don’t you come help me set up mom’s room?”

You thanked the heavens he had enough mental capacity to not leave you alone with his mom. “Of course!”

“Help yourself to anything you want in the kitchen, yeah?” Joshua told his mom as he reached to pick up her suitcase with his free hand, his left one still holding onto you like you were his lifeline. “Coffee, tea, a snack – anything.”

She replied with a smile and continued her (no doubt thorough) tour of your apartment. 

Once you were in his room, he closed the door so that it was just a bit ajar as to not seem suspicious and turned to you with a look of terror. His whispers were so loud and harsh that you wondered if there was any point in pretending otherwise as he asked, “What do we do?”

“We clean your room and make your mom feel at home,” you suggested, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

Joshua gave you a look that said he was holding back the urge to call you dumb. “I meant us. She’s taking my bed. Where will I sleep? I can’t sleep on the sofa – she’ll figure out we’re lying.”

Oh. Yeah, that was an unwelcome problem. Mostly because the only viable solution you could think of involved Joshua sleeping in your room and you not getting any sleep because he’d be so close to you. What if you fell asleep and talked in your sleep, confessing your everlasting love? Worse!: what if you had a dirty dream about him – one involving his gorgeous biceps and soft lips and– dear god, you’d never be able to look him in the eyes again. Hell, you probably wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as him. 

Joshua stared at you in silence, expecting a solution. Before you could offer one though, he shut it down with a “I’m not sneaking out to sleep on Chan’s pull-out couch either.”

Damn it. 

“Then there’s only one solution,” you whispered back, unable to believe your own words. “We’ll have to share my room.”

“There’s no room for another mattress there.”

It’s not like either of you even knew where to find a spare mattress. But you didn’t tell him that. And the look in his eyes said you didn’t have to because he knew it just the same and that left only one solution.

“We can share my bed, but if you touch my teddy bear, I’ll make sure you go missing under mysterious circumstances,” you told him and left the room to get some clean sheets for the bed (and calm your heart).

The rest of a day went by in a daze of terrible half-believable lies that just kept elaborating at their own accord because of course she couldn’t be satisfied with just a simple answer. No, she had to ask questions to clarify, as if she was a detective trying to figure out a suspect’s background.

And so you bluffed and lied and shared panicked looks with Joshua. Your collaborations added up to a decent backstory – at least that’s what you thought because at least your lies were not completely out of the realm of reality.

Who confessed first? You both did, in a moment of drunken chaos at Seungcheol’s housewarming party (you failed to mention there was no alcohol provided at said party). 

Where was your first date? A picnic at the park not too far from your home just a few short months ago (and she didn’t need to know it was an outing with all of your neighbours – something not Joshua but Jihoon had organised to help the people in the building become closer).

What was your first kiss like? You had kissed him under the streetlights when he walked you home from work because you’d be damned if you let a man make the first move (in Joshua’s opinion, this was the most obvious lie of all but he chose not to argue because the other option was to look his mother in the eyes and tell her he’d made the first move to kiss somebody on the mouth).

The little lies added up and by the end of the day, you weren’t entirely sure where one started or another ended. Hell, you were pretty certain you wouldn’t remember most of them the next day. 

But that wasn’t the hard part – not the real hard part anyway. No, the real problem was the evernearing night. Between the improv performance of your life and the general feeling of butterflies, you hadn’t had any time to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to share a bed with your handsome, hot, absolutely amazing roommate under the guise of being his girlfriend.

And now the reality was looming.

His mother was the first to head to bed, leaving you and Joshua to stare at each other in a relieved silence across the dining table as she went about her bedtime routine. Neither you or Joshua dared to move to head to sleep next. Neither of you wanted to make the first move. 

Sensing you were faced with a similar dilemma, he finally suggested, “We could watch a movie.”

“We’ll have to go to bed eventually,” you told him with a sigh. “We can’t spend the whole night watching TV.”

His silence told you he thought otherwise. 

And you were in no mood to make the first move or argue about pillow barriers and teddy bears. So, begrudgingly, you dragged yourself over to the sofa and turned on the TV. 

He joined you soon after, two cans of soda in hand. He handed one – already opened – to you as you flipped through the movie selection.

“You know, sugar really isn’t good for you before bed,” you remarked offhandedly. “Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

He just scoffed and opened his can with a pop and a fizzle. “Good thing we’re watching a movie and not sleeping then.”

“Rom-com or action?”

“Action,” he answered a little too fast before sipping his drink as if to distract himself. 

“We could watch Transformers,” you half-joked. “It’s got a good runtime.”

“Might as well,” he sighed and made himself comfortable as you clicked on the title. 

As you pulled a cushion into your lap for optimal comfort, Joshua remained sitting far from you. It was funny, really – it seemed that he was sitting further from you as your “boyfriend” than he ever had as just your roommate. 

You wanted to blame the movie for how silent the living room had become. Only Optimus Prime’s voice sounded in the apartment, and even that was quiet to not disturb your guest’s sleep. But the reality was that something had shifted between you. You were officially stuck in an arrangement that both benefited and ruined you, and the reality was sinking in fast.

Now there was no chance to take back the lies and the faking. The only option was to keep going and keep up with your elaborate plan to trick the sweetest woman you knew, all because your roommate didn’t want to date some girl called Mary and you had agreed to be his cover because you were infatuated with him. 

How does one process this situation? Where do you go from here? Can you do this for a month without thinking too hard about it? And what happens when the month is up?

“Hey,” Joshua’s soft voice startled you from your tortured thoughts. You turned to find him watching you with a somewhat wistful smile. “You did great today, you know?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You chuckled but it sounded pained even to your own ears. “I was just being a good girlfriend.”

He snorted a laugh. “You can stop acting. I’m pretty sure she’s asleep by now. It’s okay. ”

“How do you know if she’s asleep?” you whispered, eyeing his – no, her – bedroom door. “Would suck to get caught lying on the very first night.”

Joshua’s smile looked a little more real now, almost reaching his eyes as he still watched you like you were a beloved family puppy who had learnt a new trick. “She snores pretty loud.”

Tense in your seat, still eyeing the door, you listened and waited. Before long, you discovered he was right. There it was, a soft snore accompanying Bumblebee’s action scene. Closing your eyes, you breathed out in relief and relaxed into the plush fabric of the sofa. 

“Do you think she bought it?” you wondered.

“If she didn’t, we’ll just have to work harder tomorrow,” he replied before reaching over to brush your hair off your face. 

You willed the butterflies to just go to sleep already and let you be. They remained relentless and you could only pray Joshua wouldn’t notice how flustered his touch made you feel.

“We just have to do this for another 29 days,” you said to distract yourself. “It’ll be fine.”

Did he have to keep stroking your cheek so gently? How much hair did you even have stuck on your face? Maybe you were hallucinating and he wasn’t touching you at all – that seemed almost plausible. 

“We’ll be fine,” he whispered and he sounded to be closer now. His warm breath brushed against your temple. Maybe you weren’t entirely out of your mind yet. “It’s just a month.”

“Just a month.” 

You weren’t yet sure whether you wished it would last less or more.

[DAY 2, SATURDAY]

Three things had greeted you when you woke up: the smell of fresh coffee, the brightest sun you had ever had the displeasure of waking under, and someone’s arm around your waist. You almost hadn’t cared whose arm it was because it was holding you to a warm body, safe from the evils of the morning chill.

Begrudgingly, you had eventually opened your eyes and glanced around. You had fallen asleep on the sofa instead of your bed – a work-around for last night’s problem if you’d ever seen one, even if it was horrible for your back. And the arm belonged to none other than your roommate who looked like an angel as he slept, resting his head on your shoulder… 

“And how is any of that my problem?” Chan yawned over his cup of coffee as he watched you pace around his kitchen ten minutes later. He didn’t really have any plans anyway but it’s not like he enjoyed having neighbours march into his apartment to rant about their love lives (even if it was great material for the building’s gossip group chat which he would no doubt update as soon as you’d leave).

You offered him a glare. “You’re supposed to be a supportive friend.”

“You must have me mixed up with someone,” he deadpanned and took a sip of his hot drink. “What’s so bad about waking up next to him anyway? It’s not like you’ve never shared a bed before.”

Your face felt like it was burning at his words. “How do you even know that?”

Unimpressed, he raised a brow. “You did the same thing the last time it happened – ran in screaming and crying and giggling like a schoolkid.” He paused, narrowing his eyes a little as if a thought was occurring before adding, “You actually do this a lot. It’s a little concerning.”

“Whatever,” you groaned and slumped in the bar stool across the counter from him. “What do I do?”

“Seize the day and appreciate the fact that you’re dating your crush?”

“Fake dating,” you corrected him with a mild glare. And you had only revealed so much to him because he was your best friend and confidant (and because you had made him swear on his life that he wouldn’t tell anyone else).

Chan scoffed a laugh. “He might be faking but there’s no way you are. You suck at improv. Just embrace it and go with the flow.”

You stared at him. Were all your friends this unhelpful or was this just a trait unique to Lee Chan? 

“Why do I even come to you for advice?” you thought out loud. “It’s not like you can even get a date yourself.”

He sputtered and coughed up the sip of coffee he had unfortunately taken just seconds before. His ears turned red. “At least I’m trying.”

“So am I!” you whined. “Come on, give me something to work with. I’m in the middle of a crisis.”

“All of which is self-inflicted.”

“I hate you.”

“Maybe, but you love Joshua,” he teased, winked, and narrowly dodged the apple you threw at his head. He laughed heartily before taking another sip of his coffee. “I’m serious though. You might as well take advantage of your arrangement. Just forget about the fake part and just think of yourself as his girlfriend. I’m sure he won’t complain about your authenticity.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, then take advantage some other way,” he suggested, appearing a little frustrated (which was fair; you had, in fact, interrupted his much needed me-time and breakfast for one). “What are you getting out of this arrangement anyways? He gets his mom off his back, and you? Is getting to live out your late-night fantasies the only perk?”

You stared at him. For a moment, he feared you were getting ready to hurl another fruit at his head. But then, instead of reaching for an apple, you slumped in your seat and let out a curious noise. “Huh.”

“Huh?” he mimicked, still tense in case it was a fake-out and you were going to throw something at him regardless.

“You’re right,” you said and he worried even more. 

He glanced towards the nearest door from the corner of his eye, wondering if it was close enough for a safe escape. You never said Chan was right – that just wasn’t a thing. It never happened. He had a bigger chance of getting struck by lightning than to hear you say those two words. Chan was fearing for his life.

“I’m right?” he echoed hesitantly.

“I’m getting nothing out of this arrangement,” you said with a scoff of disbelief. “That little scammer! I’m out here improv-ing my ass off to please his mother and all I get in return is daydream material? Screw that!”

Across from you, Chan still wasn’t sure if this was a healthy development or if he should call Jeonghan for back-up. Regardless, he decided it was safer to just play along. He let out an empathetic cheer and agreed, “Screw it! Yeah! He’s too nice to say no anyways.”

“I’m gonna make him pay!” you decided and marched out of his apartment.

The moment you were out of his sight, Chan breathed out a sigh of relief. 

But you? You froze in the hallway. You just had to cross the hall and demand your due payment. But what would you even ask for? 

As your mind raced for ideas – a new laptop? a new wardrobe? –, the door of your apartment opened. As if you were cursed, Joshua’s head peeked out. 

“Oh,” he spoke and his voice was so soft and welcoming that you almost convinced yourself you couldn’t take advantage of him any more than you already were, “there you are! We were starting to worry.”

“Worry?” you parroted dumbly.

“Yeah,” he laughed and reached out a hand as if to invite you in – as if your name wasn’t on the lease right next to his –, “we were about to have breakfast. Mom made french toast.”

“Oh.” You silently wondered what had happened to the woman you had been two minutes ago in Chan’s apartment. The spine you had grown seemed to have disappeared as soon as Joshua flashed you a smile. You were capital S Screwed.

Deep in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Joshua staring at you, confused and puzzled, his hand still outstretched for you to take. He cleared his throat to call your attention and forced his smile to brighten as he wriggled his fingers as if to entice you. You sighed quietly before faking a smile and taking his hand, finally letting him pull you to the kitchen.

“There you are,” his mother called out the moment she saw you. She was already at the table, sipping her tea and eyeing the fresh toast. “We were just beginning to wonder where you had gone.”

“Yeah,” Joshua agreed before frowning at you as he pulled a chair out for you to sit, “where did you go?”

What would be a convincing lie? A half-truth – at least that’s what Joshua himself had once told you in a drunken giggle fit.

You took a deep breath and lied through your teeth, “I remembered I promised to help Chan with something.”

“Chan?” She looked at you and there was an odd glint of something in her eyes. Amusement? Judgement? Suspicion. That’s what it was – it was clear cut suspicion and you had to shake it off before she caught onto your plan.

“Our neighbour from across the hall,” Joshua said quickly. Too quickly. You thought he must have recognised that glint in her eyes as well. “He and (Y/n) get along great.”

She hummed thoughtfully, giving you one last glance before declaring, “Well, let’s eat before it all gets cold, kids.”

[DAY 3, SUNDAY]

You had managed to avoid this twice already. This being the act of sharing a bed with the very man who had been the main character of your beautiful love-struck dreams for the past 7 months. 

The first time had been a lucky break – falling asleep on the sofa with a Transformers movie playing in the background. It had been believable enough.

The second time – last night –, had been less of a lucky break and more of a Joshua scheme. Whether it was because he couldn’t fathom the idea of sharing even a room with you (hurtful, but valid) or because he was afraid you’d be uncomfortable (absolutely valid), he had gone to hang out with his friend Jeonghan and the newest inhabitant of the building Choi Seungcheol and didn’t return until noon. And even now he was still hungover from their late-night activities.

But this time? It seemed that three was not a magic number after all. 

Dressed in your least revealing pyjamas, you stood next to Joshua, collectively staring at the twin bed in the corner of your room. 

The silence was deafening and suffocating you. And the butterflies in your stomach seemed to have doubled since this arrangement started. 

“Do you think it’s too late to call Jihoon and ask for a spare mattress?” you wondered out loud without really meaning to. 

You wanted to slap a hand over your own mouth – all these months of pining but when the opportunity is served to you on a silver platter, you’re a coward. What was it that Mina had called this? 

Self-sabotage? Sounds about right.

Joshua glanced at the time on his phone before sighing and looking at the bed again. “It’s already past midnight. And you have work at 8.”

“Oh.” 

“Whatever,” he sighed, blinking his eyes closed and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’ll take the window side. You take the wall side.”

Any love-blind or anxious thoughts jumped right out your third floor windows. Why did you even have a crush on this man who cared so little for your sleep? Making you sleep against the wall? When his shoulders were almost as wide as your whole bed? 

To quote the wise words of Lee Jihoon: Joshua? A gentleman, my ass!

You scoffed. “No way! Last time I let you do that, you almost squashed me.”

Frowning, he shushed you and pointed at the door. “My mom’s next door.”

You rolled your eyes and continued in a whisper – because unlike him, you were considerate of your friends’ feelings and needs –, “I’m not sleeping against the wall.”

“Fine,” he agreed with a soft scoff of disbelief, his eyes widening, “I’ll sleep against the wall.”

“And what? Push me off my own bed?”

He stared at you like you had grown a third head. But really he couldn’t argue – he knew he couldn’t because you had a perfectly valid point. And besides, he had lived with you long enough to know there was no winning against you. 

“Then what do you suggest?” he asked, defeated.

No ideas were popping up. You stayed quiet. 

After a few minutes of silence, you relented and suggested, “... Rock paper scissors?”

“You didn’t like either idea,” he reminded you.

“Just pick a side to defend. Whatever. I’m voting I get the window side.”

“But you didn’t want–”

“I want the window side,” you insisted half-heartedly but you both knew you were lying. There was no winning for you – not with a bed this size.

“Why did I choose you?” he thought out loud as he lifted his hand in the starting position. 

You almost scoffed at his words because it’s not like he actually had any other choices anyway. You were the only one crazy enough to agree to his scheme. Joshua had exactly two partners in crime and you doubted Jeonghan would have agreed to pretend to be Joshua’s boyfriend for a month. So, really, you were his one and only option.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot,” you softly counted in unison.

Your rock was swiftly beaten by his paper. You weren’t sure why that annoyed you – you were on the losing end of the bet either way.

Joshua stepped back and grandly gestured towards the bed with a sarcastic smile, “My love.”

“I hate you,” you told him with a groan and got in the bed before pulling yourself to the side against the wall. You already knew this would be a miserable night. 

Your roommate chuckled and followed suit, settling on his own side. Immediately, you regretted getting in the bed with him. Joshua took up more than half of the bed, easily and even when he was trying to be considerate, rolling to his side to take up less space, he was too close for comfort. 

Perhaps, you wondered, he wouldn’t bat an eye if you got out right now and pulled an all-nighter on a report you desperately needed to work on before the morning (the report being your Netflix catalogue; Bridgerton was calling your name).

But before you could even open your mouth to lie, Joshua pulled the blanket up to your neck, tucking you in with a gentle smile. “We can switch tomorrow, if you want. Just get some sleep now. You have an early day.”

As he closed your eyes and subconsciously leaned closer to you, you wondered if it would be so hard to take advantage of the situation after all and pretend it’s real. Would it really hurt to just forget about the ‘fake’ part of your fake dating plan and just… lean a little closer and rest your head on his pillow instead of your own? 

His hand was so close to yours, fingers just inches from touching. 

What would happen if you just reached out and wrapped your hand around his? What would happen if you pressed a single affectionate kiss to his knuckles? 

Would he smile in his sleep? 

Or would he be appalled?

You shook the thoughts out of your head and squeezed your eyes shut. This was going to be a long night.

[DAY 4, MONDAY]

In your months of living with Joshua, you had shared more than a few breakfasts. Hungover, sick, or even after a foul fight over who’s turn it had been to take out the trash – none of those breakfasts had been nearly as unpalatable as this one.

You could hardly look at him from across the table. Mortified. Ashamed. Certain he wouldn’t even want to look at you. You avoided his eyes and he avoided yours as his mother fussed about and piled waffles upon waffles onto your plates. 

It might have been rude to not listen to your guest’s morning rambles about the weather and the news channel, but you were still too caught-up in your embarrassment to pay her any kind of attention. 

You knew you shouldn’t have fallen asleep. You should’ve ignored the fluffy sheep and refused the offers of the Sandman. You really should have because you hadn’t and now you were forced to live the knowledge that Joshua had to gently shake you awake from his spot underneath you. 

From UNDERNEATH you. Meaning you had fallen asleep on top of your very handsome roommate. 

And now you couldn’t even look him in the eyes again. 

“Are you kids alright?” his mother wondered all of a sudden and a jolt of fear went through you. 

On instinct and instinct alone, your head snapped to share a look with your “boyfriend”. Remembering the morning incident, you immediately looked away again and feigned nonchalance even as your cheeks and ears burned (out of the corner of your eye, you saw him do the same – there went the small chance that he had thought nothing of it).

“Yeah, why?” Joshua replied after clearing his throat.

“You’re usually not this quiet,” she said and you found her looking at you with concern. “Did something happen? Did you two fight?”

“What? No!” you protested without really meaning to. In your head, you reminded yourself that it was just a reflex and the desperate need to fulfil your part of the deal. “We’re completely fine.”

“Are you?” she still worried, hands on her hips as she took turns looking at the two of you. “Be honest: is me being here a problem? You seem so awkward, like even being in the same room is a chore. Did you fight because I came to stay here?”

“No, no,” you and Joshua protested in unison. 

You shared another look, forgetting your embarrassment now that your plan was in jeopardy.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I really didn’t want to cause you problems. If I’ve done something to upset either of you–”

“Mom,” Joshua assured her with a gentle smile that didn’t look entirely genuine, “(Y/n) and I are fine. We’re just…”

“Stressed from work,” you supplied when he trailed off in thought. “You know how it is.”

She didn’t fully seem to buy it, still eyeing the both of you with a mix of suspicion and worry. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” She scoffed as if she had realised the gravity of her words and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What am I even saying? You wouldn’t lie to me.”

As if your morning couldn’t get any worse.

“We should go get ready for work, honey,” Joshua suddenly excused himself and you, pulling you up by the crook of your elbow. “Wouldn’t want you to be late to work with all those big projects you have.”

You wondered what big projects he was talking about. Your higher-ups barely even allowed you to proofread the company documents and fix typos. But the look in his eyes said he needed you to play along.

“Right, right,” you sighed and went with him, offering his mother one last sweet smile before the bedroom door shut behind you and Joshua practically trapped you against it. 

“She’s onto us,” he told you quietly, all the while still avoiding your eyes. “She’s onto us and she’s probably already setting up a blind date with that Maria-girl.”

“Wasn’t it Mary?” you wondered.

Joshua replied with a half-hearted glare and a sigh. “We need to fix this.”

“But how?” You crossed your arms over your chest, mostly to convince yourself that there was enough space between your and his body to not have the butterflies go absolutely wild. “We just, what, kiss and make up?”

His eyes lit up and you feared for your life. “You’re a genius!”

“Shua, I was being sarcastic.”

He didn’t even seem to hear your protests. “If we kiss, she has no reason to suspect we’re not together. And she’ll be off our backs. It’s perfect.”

The things you would’ve done to kiss Joshua Hong and his beautiful, plump lips… 

Joshua must have mistaken your eager expression for one of dismay or maybe fear because his eyes widened. He lifted his hands in a way that just screamed ‘I was just kidding, please don’t hit me’ before quickly adding, “Not that I want to kiss you – I’m sure you’re a great kisser. We don’t have to kiss though. Because–”

“Because we’re friends,” you finished for him with a smile that you hoped wouldn’t betray your disappointment, “and it would make things awkward, right?”

“Right,” he breathed out and visibly relaxing – slumping even – in front of you. “I’m sorry I even suggested that. It’s dumb. You’re my friend – you shouldn’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to just because of a stupid scheme to please my mom.”

If you don’t want to. If you don’t want to. You almost scoffed in his face – he had no idea what he was saying.

You wondered what was the formal and correct way to inform your roommate that you had the biggest, fattest, most ridiculous crush on him and would sell your left kidney for one kiss – if only he wanted to kiss you back.

“Well, we have to convince her somehow, right?” you pointed out as you prepared to start doing your hair. “I doubt a hug will make her less suspicious.”

Joshua chuckled. “You noticed it too?”

“She was acting like she expected us to slip up and confess at any moment,” you reminded him with a quirk of your brow, eyeing him through the mirror. “What did she say? ‘You wouldn’t lie to me’? Oddly specific, no?”

“We’re so screwed if we don’t figure something out,” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair (it took you great strength to resist the urge to reach over and give his fluffy utter mess of dark hair a pat as well).

You schooled your expression, willing the beginnings of a blush to go away, as you suggested, “We could still do something kiss-related, you know. Just this once, to get her off our backs.”

“I’m not kissing you,” he argued instantly, ears reddening.

Why was he so god-damn difficult? Why did he have to go on an anxious mental tangent about the wrongs of kissing one’s roommate? Why couldn’t he just kiss you already?! It was his idea anyway!

You almost rolled your eyes as you came up with an alternative, “I could kiss you on the cheek when I leave. Not as good as a kiss but–”

“That could work.”

“Okay, great, we’ve figured it out,” you told him with a chuckle and gently pushed him towards the door. “Now, get out. You haven’t dated me long enough to earn the privilege of seeing me naked yet.”

He snorted a laugh at that – you were half sure it was because he had, in fact, at one point seen you naked, under very different and less than ideal circumstances involving one too many shots of Bacardi – before leaving you to your thoughts and doubts and the knowledge that your roommate did not want to kiss you at all.

[DAY 7, THURSDAY]

While there was an extensive list of reasons why Joshua Hong was the most infuriating man you had ever met (and you meant this very affectionately, which your friends found hilarious), there was an equally extensive list of reasons why Joshua was the ideal man.

His looks were definitely on the list – his doe-like brown eyes, his little bird’s nest of morning hair, his bright smiles to name some of the points.

But it wasn’t all that superficial. You loved his sense of humour. You liked his unlimited patience and kindness. 

Most of all, you loved his cooking.

On most evenings, you got home from work and found your roommate beginning to prepare dinner. He’d offer you a wide smile and ask if his plan of tomato rigatoni suited your tastes. And then he’d just let you rant about your day as he cooked, a drink in your hand.

This tradition had been briefly broken by Joshua’s mother taking over kitchen duties. She felt it was only fair as she was staying in your apartment for free for such a prolonged time. But as much as you loved her food (which almost rivalled Joshua’s), you just missed your daily gossip sessions. 

So, when you got home from work and found your roommate, friend, and fake boyfriend extraordinaire sorting through ingredients on the kitchen counter, you almost cried of joy. You had so many tales to share and you were eager to listen to his stories as well (your last gossip session had ended on a cliffhanger on his part). 

“You’re cooking?” you asked him, leaning over to look at the ingredients, before even remembering that was not how you were meant to greet someone. 

Joshua jumped at voice before resting a hand on his chest and taking a deep breath. “Oh my god…”

“Did I scare you?” you laughed at him and offered an apologetic expression when he turned to glare at you. “So, what are you cooking?”

“I was going to just make some vegetable soup,” he informed you with a tired chuckle. “Mom’s feeling a little under the weather so…”

You couldn’t help but melt at the implications. The grand scheme of fake dating aside, Joshua was a great son to his mother. Yet another reason to add to your ever-growing list. 

And perhaps it was the melting of your heart that affected your brain activity because the next thing you knew you were doing the unthinkable.

“Can I help somehow?” you asked him. 

Even Joshua was startled by your question. And you soon realised why.

In disbelief, you scoffed. “C’mon, I’ve helped you before.”

“Have you?” His head tilted to the side in a manner resembling a curious cat but his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You never offer to help cook. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you use a pan.”

“Shush,” you told him and gave him a gentle slap on the bicep. “What do you need me to do?”

Looking at the various vegetables on the counter, he puffed his cheeks out in thought. Then he shrugged. “You could help with the potatoes.”

“What do I do with them?”

He sighed theatrically. “This is why I never let you help.”

“Hey!”

“Just peel and cut them into pieces, okay?” he finally instructed with a laugh that suggested he did not have a lot of faith in your ability to do so. “Not too small though.”

“I know how to cut potatoes, Shua,” you told him as you got out a knife and cutting board. “I’m a big girl.”

When he offered you another suspicious and perhaps worried glance, you decided it was time to prove a point. He didn’t think you could peel and cut a potato into perfect pieces for a soup? You were going to prove him wrong and you were going to make him eat his words.

It started out great. The first potato was a breeze, peeled and cut in record time. The second and third potato were a joy to turn into smaller chunks and chuck into the bowl Joshua had provided for you. While working on the fourth potato, you started sharing gossip from work and it didn’t affect your task at all. 

For a moment you were certain Joshua would regret doubting you. You were sure there was no way you were going to mess this up and make him question your cooking abilities ever again. 

That is until you reached the last potato. It was two chops in when you let out a whimper, dropped the knife and cradled your hand to your chest.

Joshua’s head snapped up immediately.  Eyes widening in concern, he rushed to your side. “Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah,” you sighed and reached for a towel to dry the blood. “It’s no big deal though, so don’t worry. I’ll g0 find some band-aids and–”

“Don’t get any blood on the potatoes,” he warned with a serious frown and your jaw dropped.

You smacked him with your good hand when his scowl turned into a mischievous smile.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he laughed and left the room. He returned just moments later with the first-aid kit. “Come here, silly. Let’s get that fixed up.”

When he reached for your injured hand, you snorted out a laugh. “You know, I can put the band-aid on by myself.”

“Who knows,” he teased all the while focusing on your wound, “maybe you’d mess that up as well.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” you told him but made no move to escape from your handsome nurse.

Leaning ridiculously close to you, he gently applied the band-aid. When you let out a soft hiss at the pain (mostly just to mess with him), he pouted and pressed a soft kiss to the spot. “That better?”

It was just your luck that his mother decided to come for a glass of water at that exact moment. She let out a soft gasp of delight before feigning nonchalance when your heads snapped to look at her. 

Clearing his throat, Joshua immediately leaned away, straightened up, and offered her a taut smile. 

“Don’t mind me, lovebirds,” she spoke in a theatrical whisper and rushed over to the cupboard to get a glass. “I’m not even here.”

You fought a grimace and turned back to your cutting board. The potato wasn’t going to cut itself and the pot of broth was already calling its name. 

“You’re making soup?” she wondered and lifted a glass of water to her lips, barely even bothering to hide a smile. “It smells delicious.”

Joshua chuckled. “It will be, once (Y/n) finishes the potatoes and we add them in.”

Her jaw dropped and she lowered her glass of water. 

“Joshua!” 

Her voice could only be described as the dictionary definition of the tone of a mother scolding her children for getting into trouble. It sent a shiver of fear down your spine until you realised it wasn’t you she was yelling at.

Your roommate offered you a panicked look before turning to look at his mother, offering her a tight-lipped, fearful smile. “Yes?”

“You’re not actually going to make your girlfriend cook when she’s injured like this, right?!” she demanded to know, her brows furrowed into a furious frown. “She’s bleeding!”

“She’s fine,” Joshua started to argue but his voice trailed lower and lower with every syllable until it faded into silence and his gaze dropped to the floor in shame. 

She glared at him and reached to drag you away from the counter by the sleeve of your blouse. “Come on, sweetheart. You can come watch a movie with me while Joshua thinks about what he’s done.”

As you made your escape from the heat of the kitchen, you glanced over your shoulder to find Joshua looking at you with a dramatic grimace. You replied with a bright smile of victory and a playful wave before joining his mother in watching Mamma Mia.

[DAY 12, TUESDAY]

As far as ways to throw your roommate’s mom off your trail go, cheek kisses were good enough for the first couple of days. You quite grew to like them and, judging by the pinks of his ears and cheeks, so did Joshua. Every morning, you’d leave for work with a kiss to his cheek, a sweet smile and prep to your steps.

Then, of course, his mother made an off-hand comment about how it seems that Joshua never kisses you and he, of course, took that as a challenge. So, he began sending you off with forehead kisses and warm hugs. You like those even more, honestly. 

But you both knew you were delaying the inevitable. Eventually, the cheek and forehead kisses would not be enough proof of your relationship. Paired with no late-evening love-drunk giggles and movie night cuddles, the morning kisses were barely enough to convince anyone and eventually you’d have to up your game.

You had simply hoped you’d have more time to come to terms with the fact before it happened.

“Mom’s starting to get suspicious again,” Joshua simply stated in a hushed tone as he helped you put on your coat. 

Your heart dropped at the mention. When you turned to look at him, he was looking at everything but your eyes. “Is she asking questions again?”

“She told me to stop eating so much garlic bread because it would make my breath stink,” he said while staring at the fake plant sat on the shoe rack. “That feels like a hint.”

“Well, you don’t want to kiss me, so,” you pointed out with a shrug and shook your scarf to unravel it. “Just tell her it’s my breath that’s bad.”

“No way. Everybody knows your breath smells like roses and vanilla,” he joked and you choked on a laugh. He took your scarf from you and untangled a knot in the middle. 

With nothing to do but stare at him, you came up with a mutually beneficial idea. “We could just fake it.”

“How do you fake a kiss?” he wondered, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what they do in movies? We just have to get the angle right.”

“How does that work?” 

It turns out it’s hard to answer any questions when your crush is standing in your personal space – so close that you could smell his shampoo and conditioner. Your brain stalled, blanked and desperately tried to restart all necessary systems while you stared at him. 

“Like this?” you heard his voice say but it sounded distant over the sound of your heart pumping.

Not seeming to notice your daze, Joshua placed the scarf around your neck gently. Carefully, he tugged on the two ends of it, pulling you closer inch by inch until you were so close that you had to fight yourself to not actually kiss him. He leaned closer and closer still, his nose brushing against yours, his hands still wrapped in the scarf to keep you from escaping. If you focused really hard, you could almost feel his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly.

The sound of the coffee maker starting and a mug being placed on the counter awakened you again, harshly forcing you back into consciousness. You let out a soft gasp without really meaning to. 

“That– That was–” Joshua stammered, stepping away from you like he’d been burned and running a hand through his hair. 

You cleared your throat. “That could work… I guess…”

“Right.” 

“Yeah.”

“Have— Have a good day…”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t find another word to say until you reached your office. There, you slumped into your almost-comfy chair and stared at the ceiling. 

“Fuck.”

[DAY 16, SATURDAY]

Brunch is meant to be fun. It’s meant to bring joy. It’s breakfast without the hassle of waking up at 8 am – what’s not to love?

Well, you weren’t sure you liked brunch that much anymore.

Traumatised (a bit of a hyperbole) and furious (the scientifically correct term), you walked into your room and shut the door behind you before turning to glare at Joshua.

While you had gone out to eat with his mother – at her insistence and with a promise of free food –, your roommate stayed home with the excuse of a headache and snuggled into your blankets like it was his rightful place.

“You.”

His eyes blinked open. “Me?”

“Why do you never read your damn messages?” you burst out but tried to keep your voice low to not catch his mother’s attention. “I sent you, like, fifty.”

“You did?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Which meant that he hadn’t even looked at his phone once in the hours you were gone. Why did he even have a phone in the first place?

Your hands clenched into fists. “What if I died?!”

“My mom asking you to brunch isn’t really a deadly occasion.”

“I barely survived! She asked me about grandkids!”

“Oh.”

Your glare was unrelenting. You hoped it would somehow telepathically convey how much you wished to strangle him if only it weren’t illegal and you weren’t desperately in love with him.

“Well, what did you tell her?” he then wondered and you almost actually jumped to tackle and murder him.

“What do you think I told her, Joshua?” You scoffed. “I just said we hadn’t thought about it because this is still new and you know what she did? Do you want to know what she did?”

He raised a brow. “I guess so?”

“She started giving me the whole ‘you don’t have forever’ and ‘I’d like grandkids before I turn 70’ spiel,” you informed him and groaned. “It went on forever.”

“You’re a good actor,” he assured you with a small smile that almost seemed amused, “I’m sure you got your way out of it.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” you told him with a roll of your eyes.

He gasped. “Because my mom asked about grandkids?!”

“Because you don’t read my texts.”

Joshua paused. “Yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

[DAY 20, WEDNESDAY]

Enough was enough. You could put up with many things – your roommate’s pranks, Chan’s endless fantasies about how he’s secretly the most sensible inhabitant of the building, Joshua’s mother staying for a month with little to no notice – but you even your charitability had its limits.

When you’d woken up this morning, your back positively aching and your joints sore from being stuck between Joshua’s wall-like form and the actual wall, the first thought you had was something Chan said:

“What are you getting out of this arrangement anyways? He gets his mom off his back, and you? Is getting to live out your late-night fantasies the only perk?”

And that was when you decided that you had finally reached your limit. With a shove that was far from affectionate or fond, you awakened Joshua and declared before he could even rub the sleep out of his eyes that he’d better keep his evening schedule and a sizable number on his bank account free for you.

What followed had been a shopping trip that dismayed him and exhilarated you. You had, after all, wanted a proper big bed for a while now. Finally, a chance to sprawl out and live out your starfish dreams without the worry of falling to the cold hard ground at 2 am. And more importantly, no more being pushed against the wall like an undignified cushion every other night.

But the thing you enjoyed most of all was Joshua’s hair getting progressively more messy and unkempt as he tried to decipher the IKEA instructions all on his own while you curled up in your desk chair and watched him with a cup of hot cocoa in hand.

“I thought you’d be better at this,” you noted passively upon hearing his frustrated sigh and seeing him unscrew what you assumed was meant to be one of the legs of the new bed. “Maybe I should’ve asked for Jeonghan’s help instead.”

The glare he sent your way was scathing but his tone remained as delightful as always when he assured you, “I’ve got this, don’t worry.”

You made a show of glancing at the time on your laptop – a rerun of Friends playing in the background in an effort to entertain your poor IKEA slave of the night – and announced, “I’m just saying. It’s almost midnight and you’ve only managed to add one leg to the frame.”

He groaned. “It’s not my fault this thing is so complicated. Why couldn’t you pick out a different frame? Something more easy to assemble, for one.”

“I wanted this one,” you teased.

“The oak one you looked at at first would’ve been better. And cheaper.”

“If you want me to keep playing along in your little improv show, you’d better be happy I only asked for a 700,000-won bed in return,” you pointed out and took a sip of your cocoa. 

You sighed happily at the warmth the drink provided. Oh the joys of girlhood. You thought you could get used to this: free furniture, free assembly, and a handsome man to do your bidding.

Joshua’s lips and eyes squeezed into a sarcastic smile as he slowly turned to face you. “Don’t forget the mattress, darling.”

You shrugged. “I didn’t see you protesting at the check-out.”

His smile dropped into yet another glare. “That’s called being in shock. My bank account is dying because of you.”

Without another word, he sharply turned back to his task of assembling the frame.

“This benefits you too, sweetheart,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “I sleep better, you sleep better, everybody benefits.”

“For ten days,” he muttered and practically slammed two pieces of wood together now that he was sure they were meant to go together. “And then you have a new comfy bed and I just have poverty.”

You snorted. “I’m willing to split custody if you’re nice to me.”

It didn’t take a genius to know he was rolling his eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Besides,” you adjusted your position so you could nudge his back with your foot in an affectionate manner, “you barge in here to gossip every other night anyways. You’re benefiting plenty.”

“Remind me to never ask you to be my fake girlfriend ever again,” he pleaded.

You knew (or perhaps wished) he only half-meant it. But even so there was a pang in your chest. A feeling of sadness as the reality once again sank in. It was easy to forget that this was just an act and he had only bought you this bed because he felt guilty and not because he loved you. The feeling would nag you late into the night.

[DAY 22,  FRIDAY]

You had learnt early on that karaoke has the magical ability to heal wounds and erase bad memories, even if just for one night. Tonight you hoped it would once again prove true.

The building’s monthly karaoke parties were organised by Vernon and Jihoon in an effort to bring the community closer together. On every third Friday of the month, the lobby of the building would be lit with stage and string lights, decorated with colourful banners and dollar store party supplies, and a small stage would be built in the corner. As was tradition, everyone brought some snacks and drinks to the snack table and enjoyed the evening, getting progressively more drunk between karaoke and socialising. 

You thought it was the perfect solution to your problems. With the help of loud music, your nosy friends and alcohol, you would for sure soon forget your heartache and worries. 

There was, however, one problem you had forgotten: Joshua’s protective nature.

You had successfully managed to avoid him for the better part of the evening, sneaking between people, hiding behind Mingyu’s wide frame under the guise of playing hide and seek with your roommate (something Mingyu was very happy to help with; you suspected he just liked to feel useful), and running at every mention of Joshua. 

Seamlessly, the karaoke soon worked its miracle. You found you had missed the liberty that came with hanging out with your friends and not worrying how everything appears to Joshua’s mother. For this one night, you were not Joshua’s fake girlfriend, not someone’s pretend-daughter-in-law, and not an actress struggling at improv – you were once again just (Y/n), a simple woman in love with her best friend, eyeing him from across the room and giggling with your friends about it.

By the time you remembered you were hiding from him, you were far from sober and your thoughts were getting a little jumbled as you made conversation with Minghao, laughing between every other word because saying things was hard and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Minghao didn’t say a word and only smiled at you fondly, like one would at a kitten trying to chase after shoelaces, as he listened to you. 

His attention was caught by something behind you and you saw him give someone a gentle nod and a bright smile. Then, before you could even process the situation or ask any questions, he placed a hand on your shoulder and turned you around, bringing you face to face with him. 

You weren’t sure what it was about the dollar store lighting in the lobby, but you had always thought it made Joshua look even more delectable. It was hard not to stare at the shadow his lashes cast on his cheeks or the definition of his muscles visible through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt.

“Hi!” You greeted him with a wave and an intoxicated giggle, momentarily forgetting about the freshly opened can of beer in your hand and letting it slosh in your hands. “Oh! Sorry, my bad!”

A situation you would’ve once thought to be mortifying only made you laugh harder tonight as you searched for tissues and began to dry your hand. You didn’t notice when Joshua had taken the drink from you but you also wouldn’t notice he never gave it back.

He watched you with a smile. “Having fun?”

“Oh my god, I’m having so much fun,” you rambled, eyes shining as you looked at him, already forgetting your quest to dry the floor. “Did you see when Seungcheol and I did ‘Alcohol-Free’ together? It was so much fun–”

It was hard to finish your thought when he looked at you with those pretty eyes, and smile, and– 

He adjusted the sleeves of your dress for you and you almost melted. All thoughts gone. Words? Never heard of those.

You were silent for so long that he chuckled. “You awake?”

“I– Yeah, totally,” you replied, blinking your eyes to force yourself to focus again. “How about you? Are you having fun?”

He shrugged. “I usually have more fun when you’re with me.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t even sing ‘Breaking Free’ with me tonight,” he complained playfully but you thought you saw a hint of actual sadness in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re making friends with Seungcheol though.”

You hummed and nodded. “He’s very nice. Very handsome too.”

His eyes widened and you couldn’t quite figure out why. 

Not that you even wanted to figure it out. You were, in all honesty, more preoccupied with memorising how pretty he looked with his doe eyes. The purples and yellows and pinks of the lights reflected back from the browns of his eyes and you thought it was the prettiest sight you had ever witnessed. No sunset, sunrise or wild landscape could compete with this view. 

And you wanted to tell him that; but words were so hard when your blood was buzzing with alcohol and adrenaline. So you thought you should show him somehow. 

Your eyes closed briefly. You leaned forward just a bit. Then your lips pressed against his. For just a moment. You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned back and opened your eyes again.

If you had thought his eyes were pretty before, they were positively the most gorgeous sight now as he stared back at you in wonder and confusion. There were not enough words in the dictionary. You thought they ought to fix that problem and add a few just to be safe. 

“The girl who wins your heart will be so lucky,” you told him softly and pressed another gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I wish I was her.”

“(Y/n), I–” he started and you felt the alcohol leave your blood in an instant, the warm buzzing replaced with a cold rush. 

Before he could say anything in response, you ran out of the party. 

[DAY 23, SATURDAY]

Seokmin had always heavily advertised the building’s monthly karaoke parties as “life-altering”. He wrote that in large letters with a bright red marker on every karaoke party notice he saw and he said the exact phrase to every person he talked to in the week leading up to the event. Which was especially funny because 1) he wasn’t on the advertising team, 2) there was no advertising team to begin with, and 3) he never even volunteered to help organise the events. You had concluded that he was just very incredibly enthusiastic about karaoke (and with a voice like his how could one not be?).

But you now feared he was right after all.

Upon realising your mistake, you had, for a moment, contemplated going home and hiding in your room before you realised it would be the first place he’d look for you.

So, instead, you sent a silent apology your best friend’s way and took the spare key from under the doormat before letting yourself into Chan's apartment. 

Even as the morning arrived, you didn’t dare face Joshua. Not after what had happened. Not after you had kissed him and told him you wished he’d fall in love with you and kissed him again. You could never go home again. 

Chan looked away from his laptop screen just to give you a look with one of his brows raised. “You literally live with him.”

“That’s the whole point. I can’t go home,” you told him, lying face-down against his thigh. 

Turns out it’s surprisingly easy to make physical contact with men when you’re not attracted to them. You silently wondered if that could be the solution to your obvious touch-starvation problem – why else would you drunkenly kiss your roommate?

He rolled his eyes. “Then what’s your plan, drama queen?”

You didn’t answer, mulling it over in your head. There really weren’t a lot of options. 

Maybe it was a sign – finally you could fulfil your life-long dream of adopting a new identity and moving to Iceland to become an anonymous sheep herder. It sure sounded more tempting than facing Joshua Hong again.

Before you could open your mouth to suggest a viable idea, Chan beat you to it with a click of his tongue. “You’re too poor to move to Iceland. And no, you can’t move into my place either.”

There went your plan A as well as plan B.

“Fuck you,” you told him and rolled over to face the ceiling. “Then what do I do?”

“What you always do, I guess,” he sighed and turned back to his online shopping addiction. “You complain a bit, throw an apple at my head, and then pretend nothing ever happened between you and Joshua.”

You blinked. “Do I always do that?” 

“Without fail.”

You hadn’t realised there was a pattern. Perhaps this whole thing was worse than you had thought. Perhaps taking a new identity and running really was your only option. And who knows, you thought, maybe you’d find a nice man in Iceland and fall in love with a not-Joshua instead. Then you’d at least be free of one problem, even if at the expense of a new set of issues.

“Instead of catastrophizing, you should use this opportunity,” Chan broke the silence, eyes still on the screen.

You suddenly understood why throwing an apple at his head was part of the pattern. Fortunately for him, the apples were just out of your reach and you were too comfy and hungover to go get even one. “To fake my death and go into hiding? Absolutely.”

“What? No!” He frowned at you as if you had suggested 2+2 was 5. “What is wrong with you? You need to face this whole thing head-on instead of making escape plans!”

“I’d honestly rather go missing under mysterious circumstances.”

“Or,” he started and flicked your forehead with his fingers, making you curse at him as he rolled his eyes, “you could accept the fact that you confessed to your crush and see what he thinks of that.”

“He looked horrified last night.”

“You were drunk and kissed him without permission,” he reminded you helpfully. You failed to see how that information would soften the blow. If anything, it was making you feel like a predator – and not even a very clever one. You grimaced. “Give the poor guy a minute to process before jumping to conclusions. He was just surprised. If you stuck around instead of pulling a Cinderella, maybe you would’ve found out it wasn’t that big of a deal. Who knows, maybe he even likes you back.”

“Pull a Cinder–” You sputtered and glared at him. “Why do I ever come to you for advice?”

He offered a smug smile. “Because deep down you know I’m right.”

You were certain he wasn’t. You couldn’t imagine any scenario outside of your daydreams where the situation could’ve been resolved with a smile and a confession from Joshua Hong. You could, however, imagine a thousand scenarios of him running away or being so disgusted by your behaviour that he’d call off the fake dating scheme once and for all.

Seeing your hopeless expression, Chan sighed. “Instead of making doom’s day plans, try to look at the bright side of things.”

“What bright side?” you asked, closing your eyes and wishing the month would end already. “I embarrassed myself in front of my crush. What’s the bright side, Mr Positivity?”

His silence spoke louder than any words ever could have.

[DAY 24, SUNDAY]

After two nights at Chan’s apartment, you finally decided it was time to face your nightmare. If Joshua hadn’t unilaterally called off the scheme yet, his mother must have for sure been worried about the state of things. You thought you owed him at least these last 7 days of fulfilling this nonsensical plan. 

So, after two cups of coffee and a pep talk from Lee Chan, you braced yourself and walked into your own apartment for the first time all weekend. 

It was silent. Of course it was, you thought and facepalmed: it was only 8 am on a Sunday. Just because your sins and demons had kept you from sleeping in didn’t mean Joshua and his mother would be awake at this damned hour.

You were just about to come to terms with the fact when a soft pitter-patter of feet interrupted the silence. The steps came closer and you took a deep breath to calm yourself, praying it wouldn’t be who you thought it was.

But you knew it was a useless hope. You had lived with Joshua long enough to recognise his footsteps and the rhythm of his snores in your sleep. 

He let out a sigh that seemed almost relieved once he reached the living room. 

“Where were you?” you expected him to ask and put on his best impression of an overprotective dad. 

“How dare you come back here?” you half thought he’d say and glare at you as he’d shove a bag full of your clothes into your arms and kick you out.

But he just watched you in silence for a moment as if to make sure you were real and not a figment of his overactive imagination. And only once you had been pushed to the point of awkwardness where you couldn’t help but put on a tight-lipped smile and a shrug did he finally open his mouth to ask, “Did you eat yet?”

You had almost forgotten what he sounded like and it was a pleasant feeling to listen to him again. The soft murmur and slight sleepy growl to his voice sounded like home and it made the butterflies in your stomach come back to life with a roar of fluttering wings, free of shame and fear.

Your smile almost felt genuine when you replied, “I was going to make pancakes…” 

… To make up for what I did went unsaid, but you suspected he knew they were there nonetheless. 

He yawned in a way that didn’t seem entirely real, as if he was putting on an act to ease the awkwardness. After glancing at the clock he spoke again, “I kind of want to go eat breakfast outside today.”

“Oh.” 

You felt a little dejected at the thought but you understood. If someone had done to you what you had to him – someone you thought was your friend suddenly kissed you and confessed to you, even drunkenly –, you probably would have needed more time as well. If he didn’t want to eat breakfast at home with you, it was his right. You were sure his mother was better company than you anyways.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt you though. You turned your head to fight back the tears that threatened to make a comeback. You didn’t think you had any right to cry but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to. 

But before you could spiral further, Joshua chuckled, “Don’t worry. I’ll pay. You can get as many waffles as you want.”

Your head snapped to face him again, eyes blinking rapidly. You pointed at yourself. “You want me to–”

“Get dressed, silly. I’m too poor to pay for both you and mom, you know.” He could hardly keep from smiling. “Besides, we need to talk, just you and I.”

And talk you did. Or at least you would have if you weren’t so distracted by waffles and a sense of impending doom. You could hardly sit still in your chair, feeling uncomfortable sitting across from him. 

Any moment now, you thought, he’s going to say you were an awful person. Any moment now, he’s going to say it was all a big mistake and he should’ve just asked Jeonghan to fake date him instead. 

But maybe Chan was right and you were a fair bit overdramatic. 

“So about the other night,” Joshua finally started with a heavy sigh and put down his coffee cup. He avoided your eyes (not that you would’ve noticed because you were too busy avoiding his anyway) as he searched for words to say. 

“I’m sorry about that,” you blurted out, abandoning your waffles. 

He paused. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry for… you know…” You couldn’t even say the words because it was so dumb and ridiculous and shouldn’t have ever happened anyway. How does one apologise for kissing someone? You forced yourself to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have done it. I was just drunk and dumb and silly– You know how I get.”

He nodded. “Right. You were just… drunk.”

“Yep.”

“And you just kissed me because…”

“I was excited to see you,” you half-lied and avoided his eyes again. “I just hadn’t seen you all night and there you were and I guess I got a little…” Carried away? Lovestruck? “It doesn’t change anything, I swear. I was drunk.”

Silence. He was silent for so long that you were half-convinced he’d gone and left you to your own devices. Paying for the breakfast would’ve been the least of your worries.

When you looked up to see if he was still there, you saw him looking down at his food. He seemed… sad? Disappointed? Upset with you for making such silly excuses maybe? You shuddered to think what that odd dim look on his face meant.

The butterflies that had woken up just an hour ago went back to rest, ashamed of their work. You could just hope he wouldn’t hate you forever or kick you out of the apartment. 

Finally, after what felt like forever and then some years, Joshua forced on a smile that was a little too bright to be real. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re back. Where did you even go after the karaoke?”

“I–” You were both overjoyed and taken aback by his question. He cared. He cared and he didn’t want you gone from his life. “I kind of broke into Chan’s apartment and stayed there.”

Brows furrowing and the corner of his mouth turning downwards, he scoffed. “Instead of just coming home? I was worried sick!”

“I’m sorry!” you squeaked and somehow it was the most sincere apology you had uttered today. “I was just so embarrassed and I didn’t think you’d want to see me, so–”

“I always want to see you,” he argued with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re my best friend, (Y/n). I could never be so mad at you that I’d never want to see you. You had me so worried! I thought you’d gone to sleep in a dumpster somewhere.”

There he was – the Joshua you had fallen so hopelessly in love with. Your silly, protective, way too sweet and dramatic Joshua. And you didn’t feel ashamed to be in front of him. 

A smile forced its way onto your lips at the thought.

“What are you smiling at? This is serious!” He could hardly fight a grin himself, already bordering on giggling at your argument. “I was worried about you. And mom kept asking about you and I almost told her you’d moved to Iceland like you always dreamed–”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted him with a laugh. “I’m sorry, again. You can stop being a worry-wart now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Next time I’ll just leave you to freeze in the dumpster.”

“I didn’t sleep in a dumpster!”

“Chan’s place is not much better.”

[DAY 26, TUESDAY]

You had hoped that your Sunday breakfast apologies would be the last your actions would haunt you aside from the regular night-time program of nightmares. You had apologised, you had made up, and you were friends with Joshua again as if nothing had happened at all.

Had there been a small, minimal, miniscule glimmer of hope in your heart that Chan’s words would be true and Joshua would tell you he liked you back? Sure. 

Had it been crushed to the point of no revival? Absolutely. 

“Oh, hey, (Y/n),” Vernon greeted you when you entered the building’s lobby after a long day of work. 

You glanced around and noted that, as per usual, the clean-up of the karaoke party was taking five days longer than the setting up. It was only natural, you supposed, as Jihoon was too busy to bother with this and Vernon – as per Junhui and Seungkwan’s accounts – was not the biggest fan of cleaning. Today, four days after the party, he was taking down the last string lights.

“I see some things never change,” you told him with a good-natured chuckle. 

Though it took him a moment to understand what you were implying, Vernon rolled his eyes once the realisation hit. “You’re welcome to come and help.”

You had walked right into that one and so you sighed. “Alright, what do you need?”

He laughed. “I was just joking. I’ve got this. I planned this entire thing anyway.”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend some time with your girlfriend?” you wondered. You could barely wrap your mind around how people with dating lives didn’t just spend all their free time cuddling and being in love.

“Ella’s fine,” he told you with a shrug. “She’s got Rocket and Mango to keep her company.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I think she’s probably sick of me, anyway.”

“Why?”

“... I ate the last ice cream.”

You snorted a laugh. “Might as well send in the divorce paperwork already.”

“Right?” he joked before raising his brows. “How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why aren’t you at home, making googly eyes at Josh?”

You froze. Did he know about your crush? Vernon – the master of not noticing the things around him – had noticed your crush? How obvious had you been?

 “Why would I do that?” you asked after clearing your throat.

He scoffed. “Oh, come on, we all saw you at the party.”

It appeared the magical karaoke regrets would never stop haunting you. You cursed under your breath. 

Barely noting your silence, Vernon turned back to the lights but asked, “So, are you finally together? Did he finally confess?”

“Confess?”

You cringed as you felt like a broken record forced to perform, but your brain was too far in overdrive to maintain its normal operations.

“I mean, he’s been in love with you since like… forever, really,” he told you oh-so-casually, as if he was discussing the Monday paper or the weather. “I thought the dumbass would never confess. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Jeonghan and Seungkwan would’ve set up a ploy to get you to date.”

And just like that you found yourself on Chan’s sofa once again. He had only greeted you with a deep, heartfelt sigh and a nod that said he had expected this. 

As he fell next to you on the sofa, he took a sip of beer and said, “Do your thing, drama queen.”

You stayed silent, still pondering your existence and the ups and downs of your (non?)existent love life. 

Mouth agape in surprise at your lack of complaints, Chan waved a hand in front of your face. “Earth to (Y/n)? What happened? You know, it’s good to let your feelings out. I might complain about it sometimes but–”

“Vernon said Joshua has a crush on me,” you finally blurted out, staring ahead, still deep in disbelief. “It can’t be, right? He’s probably being silly. But what if he isn’t? What if he’s right? What if Joshua has a crush on me? What if he had a crush on me and then I kissed him and now he thinks I’m gross?”

It did feel good to let your feelings and thoughts out. And now they just sounded even sillier. Why? Well, because it was ridiculous – Joshua would never have a crush on you.

Chan blinked. “Vernon said that?”

“Do you think he’s right?”

He kissed his teeth. “And if I say yes?”

“Then why didn’t he say anything?” 

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because he can’t possibly like me!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back. “There you go.”

“Why hasn’t he confessed? He could’ve told me to not apologise. He could’ve kissed me back. He could’ve–”

“Maybe he’s a coward and he’s waiting for you to confess first,” Chan guessed. “You know, kind of like how you’re doing right now.”

“You are entirely unhelpful,” you told him with a mild glare that one could almost mistake for fond. “I can’t just confess to him. Not after what happened.”

“Says who?”

“Can you stop asking questions and help me,” you whined before practically slamming your head against his shoulder in a search for comfort. “This is a serious crisis. Do you think he could actually like me?”

Chan hesitated. “You didn’t hear it from me, but…”

“But?”

“I’m pretty sure I overheard Jeonghan, Seungcheol and Joshua talking about you. And I’m pretty sure Joshua said he could never live with himself if you rejected him.”

“He did?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” he reminded you and patted your arm in a brotherly manner. “So I say you go and confess and live happily ever after.”

You groaned. “Or miserably.”

“If that’s what you want,” he joked. “But you should still give it a try.”

“But not today though.”

“Definitely not today. You look like a mess,” he blurted. “He’d have to be pretty far gone to accept your confession, Ms Frankenstein.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and tensed as if he expected you to hit him – with an apple, you guessed – and you just scoffed out something akin to a laugh.

“I’d kick you if you weren’t such a good friend,” you told him instead and gently patted his cheek. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

[DAY 27, WEDNESDAY]

The alarm still had a few minutes before it would go off. 

You stared at Joshua as he slept soundly beside you. It was tempting to smooth down his hair and press a soft kiss to his forehead. But you had other things to do before you could do that. 

You took a deep breath and opened your lips to just whisper the words – as practice for the real confession you would definitely, 100%, certainly make in a few days – but no sound came out. 

You sighed and slumped back into your pillow. Confessing is harder than it looks in movies and books, even when he’s asleep and can’t hear you.

Joshua’s phone began ringing, notifying both him and you of the beginning of a new day. He stirred beside you. You pretended you’d been asleep this entire time.

[DAY 28, THURSDAY]

It was cold. So, so cold. Of course fate would have it that the first snowstorm of the year would hit without warning on the one day the last bus home was over an hour late. And of course it had to be on the one day when your boss asked (or, rather, begged) you to work overtime. 

But maybe fate wasn’t entirely cruel and useless, you thought as Seungcheol’s car stopped in front of the bus stop and he invited you inside with a worried smile and a wave.

“What are you doing out so late?” he wondered as he cranked the seat warmers up to the maximum. “Didn’t you watch the forecast?”

Oh. So they had issued a warning after all. 

“I’ve been a little distracted, I guess,” you told him with a sheepish laugh before thanking him for giving you a lift and wondering, “What about you? It’s not exactly driving weather.”

“Every weather is driving weather,” he joked and offered you a bright smile that for the shortest moment had you wishing you had fallen for him and not your stupidly endearing roommate. “I’m sure Joshua’s worried.”

You hadn’t even thought to check your phone until now. Frankly, judging by its recent battery life, you’d be shocked if it had any charge left at all.

“He’ll live.”

“Are you– I thought–” He hummed in thought, brows furrowing. “Are you not together?”

How you wished you were.

“No,” you sighed. “But I was going to confess tonight until, you know, my boss decided we needed those reports two days ago.”

Seungcheol nearly swerved his car in surprise. He was quick to fix his error – it went fairly smoothly with how empty the streets were this late at night. “I’m sorry. I really thought you were together. He’s been talking about you so much. I thought–”

“Apparently you’re not the only one.” You laughed. “I don’t know how he’ll feel if I do confess though. Maybe he’ll kick me out.”

“He won’t. No way,” he said and it almost sounded like a promise. “But if he does, tell me and I’ll kick his ass.”

“So you think I should confess?” 

“Do it. I think you’ll like the outcome.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say I have some experience with love.”

[DAY 29, FRIDAY]

Back home, Joshua felt like he was going to go out of his mind. The clock on the wall was mocking him, moving forward even as his worry deepened. 

It was already almost midnight. You were usually home by 7. And yet there was no sign of you.

Sighing, he fell back onto the sofa and checked his phone again. He wasn’t sure how many times he had done that already. Fifteen? Fifty? Five hundred, perhaps? 

Still no calls back. Still no sign that you had read his messages. When he tapped on your contact to call you, it went to voicemail and he almost went insane.

“I’m sure she’s safe. She’ll be home soon,” his mother comforted him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. But her words were hard to believe when she was staying up later than usual with him, her third cup of peppermint tea sat on the coffee table in front of them.

The clock ticked midnight and Joshua jumped to his feet. “I’m going out to find her.”

“You’re going out? In this weather?” She didn’t need to use harsh words for him to know that she was scolding him. 

But he didn’t care. He couldn’t care when you weren’t home. 

So he ignored her warnings and pulled on his coat, his boots, and grabbed his car keys. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he called over his shoulder as he left the apartment. He heard her call something out to him but he couldn’t be bothered to listen when he was half-certain you were buried in a pile of snow somewhere. 

He was halfway down the stairs, somewhere between the first and second floor when he heard your voice. He could’ve sworn life returned to his veins at the sound. He sighed in relief and picked up the pace, hurrying to see you.

But then he heard another voice. Seungcheol. 

“If you like it, keep it,” the man from 5A spoke, his voice rich and low in a way Joshua just knew would have any woman weak at the knees. And how was he supposed to compete with that?

He heard you laugh – giggle, really. “That’s so sweet, Cheol.”

Cheol? Joshua almost scoffed in disbelief. It had taken him two months to get to the nickname stage with you and this man comes and reaches it in less than a month? 

He wasn’t sure what this feeling in his chest was. Anger? Bitterness? No, he was just lying to himself. He knew exactly what this feeling was: jealousy. And he’d be damned if he let this continue.

Dusting off his black wool coat, he picked up the pace again and rushed downstairs to meet you. 

The acting lessons his mother had signed him up for when he was a kid paid off now as he feigned surprise at the sight of you. Eyes widening, lips falling apart, and a gasp of air to really sell it. He ran to you from the bottom of the staircase.

“Sweetheart!” he called out as he practically tackled you in a hug. He didn’t even have to pretend as he held you close, one arm around your back and one pushing against the back of your head to keep you as close as humanly possible. “Where were you? I was so worried. Are you okay?”

You had squeaked in surprise and he almost laughed. He let you go (all the while making sure to keep one hand on your back) and asked again, “Are you okay, baby?”

You seemed to be speechless, staring at him with wide eyes full of confusion. 

Seungcheol cleared his throat and Joshua almost glared at him just to prove a point. “I should leave you with your…”

“Boyfriend,” Joshua quickly supplied with a smile he hoped came across as both friendly and venomous. You let out another squeak of surprise. 

“Right.” Seungcheol raised a single brow before sharing a funny look with you. “I’ll see you some other time then, (Y/n). And don’t let your boss make you work overtime again.”

With that, he climbed up the stairs, leaving just Joshua and you.

“You worked overtime?” Joshua wondered, visibly relaxing once Seungcheol was out of range. “How long?”

“Just until 10,” you replied but it sounded almost robotic. 

“It’s midnight,” he reminded you and took your hand to check if your hands were cold. He sighed in both relief that they were warm and disappointment that he didn’t have an excuse to play with your hands now. 

You scratched your head. “The bus was late. I don’t know if it even came.”

“So, then you called Seungcheol?” 

The implication hurt him. He thought he was your first call no matter what happened. He had been all these months, after all. Even if he sucked at reading messages, he never failed to answer the phone on the first ring. 

“I think my phone died. Cheol just happened to drive past,” you told him and, for once, he felt better. 

He sighed in relief and closed his eyes, taking the situation in. It felt like he could finally breathe and think again now that you were back home. 

“Joshua,” your voice interrupted his thoughts and he hummed, “are you okay?”

He opened his eyes and looked at you. The urge to pull you back into his arms was overwhelming. “You had me so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I should’ve called but–”

“I can’t keep doing this.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He really hadn’t. But that hadn’t stopped him at all. 

You seemed startled at his words, not in a good way. In a way that made him wonder if you ever expected anything but the worst when he spoke to you. He had to put a stop to it. 

But before he could, you scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re acting like I do this often.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Also, what just happened with Cheol?” He wasn’t sure what had set you off, but he felt himself matching your energy, getting agitated. “Since when are you introducing yourself as my boyfriend to our neighbours? If you wanted to do that, you should have warned me.”

“I lied,” he blurted out before you could continue. “I’ve been lying to you a lot.” 

You froze. “You… You lied? What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. “When I lied to my mom, when I told her we were dating – it wasn’t random. I said I was dating you because… I guess I just wanted it to be real. I wasn’t nervous because I lied to her. I was nervous because I thought you’d be disgusted and upset and hate me. But I’ve liked you since the day you moved in and I’ve been in love with you since the time you borrowed my sweater in August because the moths ate all of yours.”

“You like me?” you asked dumbly and he actually laughed.

Joshua nodded. “I’m in love with you in a way I didn’t think I could ever be with anyone.”

“And… you’re choosing to confess now?” You glanced around at the empty lobby, only a single sconce lamp lighting the way into the building. “Here? Like this? Why?”

“Seungcheol–”

Your jaw dropped. “Because you’re jealous?!”

Joshua scratched the back of his neck and avoided your eyes. He didn’t have a single excuse. He was an impulsive man. He rarely thought of the consequences or even of what he was doing in that moment. Especially when it came to you. He looked down at his feet.

“I mean,” you continued with a chuckle, “I guess I’m no better. I kissed you at the karaoke just because I thought you were pretty.”

“I should’ve kissed you back,” he told you earnestly. 

You blinked. And then you blinked again. Then he saw a mischievous glint in your eye. “You should. Right now.”

You couldn’t have been serious. He didn’t think you were. There was no way.

“You can’t just confess to me like this and then not kiss me,” you told him and you didn’t sound mad at him. “You owe me that much after that scene with Seungcheol and confessing to me in the building lobby, Mr Gentleman.”

Who was he to argue? 

Taking another long gulp of air, he leaned closer. Slowly, centimetre by centimetre, unsure if you were serious or not. 

It was his turn to squeak in surprise when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt coat and pulled him closer to kiss his lips. 

“So,” he wondered, voice soft and dazed, when you pulled away, “you like me back?”

“You can ask Chan for proof, if you want,” you simply told him before kissing him again. 

He didn’t care to ask for an explanation. Not when he was finally getting everything he wanted.

 [DAY 30, SUNDAY]

Turns out fake dating becomes a lot easier when you just actually date. Who could’ve guessed?

The agony of sharing your bed and being pushed against the wall no matter the size of your mattress was replaced with the domestic joy of being able to cuddle your boyfriend. By the second night of dating Joshua, you had found your favourite position was letting him lie half on top of you, his head resting against your chest at the perfect angle to play with his hair. 

The awkward breakfasts full of lies… Well, they still had a few emergency lies here and there, but for the most part it was stealing bites off his plate and nudging each other while giggling as his mother watched you with a mildly amused look on her face.

And the kisses. You couldn’t get enough of the kisses and neither could the butterflies in your stomach, still fluttering the same as they had during your first kiss even now as he kissed you for the fiftieth time (yes, you had kept count). 

It was only a shame that the real dating started so late into the scheme. After only two days of domestic bliss, it was time for his mother to pack her bags and go home.

Dressed in a warm coat and wrapped in a large scarf, she offered her son a warm hug, whispering endearments and gentle scoldings into his ear as you waited in the lobby. You suspected her taxi driver had fallen asleep by now.  

She then gave you a hug as well. A short and sweet one with a warning to treat her son well. And then she added, “Oh, before I forget, I left something on the kitchen table for you. Read it later, okay?”

You nodded and sent her off with a smile.

Joshua joined your side, resting a hand on your back (a new habit of his that you didn’t quite mind). He wore a smile.

“What did she tell you?” you asked him. “When you were hugging.”

“Told me to stop leaving the toilet seat up,” he told you and you suspected it was only half the truth. “What about you?”

“She said she left something on the kitchen table for us to read.”

He paused. “A book?”

“You think? What if it’s a poem?”

“Maybe a letter?”

“It’s possible.” 

You shared a look. His mother’s taxi barely managed to leave your sight before you and your boyfriend (you could never get enough of calling him that) were dashing up the stairs to solve the mystery.

True enough, there was a white envelope on the table.

“Maybe it’s pocket money,” you guessed as you picked the envelope up. “For hosting her or something.”

“If it is, you should give it to me,” he told you and you weren’t entirely sure he was joking. “There’s a hole in my bank account because of you.”

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” you sighed and opened the envelope. You were pleasantly surprised to find out you had been right – a handful of cash had been stashed into the envelope, probably enough to cover your rent for the month.

Barely bothering to hide his smirk, Joshua extended a palm. You gave him a look. Stared at him. Then sighed and placed the cash in his hand. He smiled bright and put it away in his pocket.

But the cash wasn’t all. There was a folded piece of paper. A letter.

You opened it, half-expecting a scolding or a motherly warning. But this letter – as short as it was sweet – exceeded all expectations.

Sweethearts

I hope you know I’m not unwise. I know all about your little scheme – neither of you are very good actors. Joshua, you should know better than to lie to your mother. 

But it was entertaining and I am glad to have given you some incentive to finally take the proper steps and start dating. You make a cute couple when you’re not acting. 

Can’t wait to see you two again soon

Your jaw dropped. 

“What does it say?” Joshua wondered, leaning over your shoulder to read. He let out a scoff soon afterwards. “She can be so mean.”

“She knew this whole time?” you cried out.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve known. It was too easy.”

“I mean, I thought she was suspicious of us, but this?”

“Do we really suck at acting this much?”

“Whatever,” you sighed and put the letter down. “I’m going to sleep. I can’t handle an existential crisis right now.”

“Right, let’s go sleep,” Joshua agreed, leading you away from the kitchen with a gentle tug on your arm. 

It was only when you were stood in front of the two bedroom doors, nearly identical and stood side by side, that you paused and a realisation hit. 

Was it appropriate to share a bed anymore? Surely Joshua would want to go back to his own room now that it was free again? 

You almost groaned out loud: you had thought the doubts and useless problems would cease after the confession. Everything was good and great and wonderful, so why were the stupid worries back?

Having probably reached the same conclusion, Joshua seemed just as stumped. He stared at his bedroom door for a while and you were certain he’d go to sleep in his own bed for the night, ending your most favourite part of newfound domestic bliss.

“I paid for the bed,” he suddenly said with a laugh and gently pushed you towards your room, following closely after. “You’re not getting rid of me now, sweetheart.”

“So you’re just inviting yourself into my room now?” you joked, nudging his side before letting yourself fall onto the bed. 

He laid down next to you, resting his head on his arm after rolling to his side to face you. He grinned. “It’s our room now.”

You loved the sound of that and you were certain he could see it on your face.

“So what will we do with your room?”

Joshua pondered for a moment. “We could turn it into a guest room. something tells me mom’s going to want to visit again soon.”

You paled at the mention of her. “I don’t think I can ever look her in the eyes again.”

“Me neither,” he sighed and leaned over to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Let’s not think about it any more.”

“You’re the one that brought her up!” You laughed.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” he said. “I love you.”

The butterflies went crazy. You couldn’t and wouldn’t fight the smile that appeared on your face. “I love you too.”

[pineconepie]

I DONT CARE WHAT YOUR CREATIVE BRAIN WHIPS JUST PLEASE GIVE ME A FEM YANNNN (love your work btw)

Hehe tysm!! I hope this is good!! <3 I made parental yandere ghost!!

TW: Kidnapping, parental yandere, infantilization

...

When you got a shady ad of a mansion for the same price of a tiny home, you figured it'd be covered with mold and falling apart. The ad didn't give much information, other than it had several acres, and three stories tall.

You wondered why someone would sell such a building for such a cheap price, but given your budget, might as well check it out.

And oh boy were you shocked at what you found.

A beautiful mansion, not a single sign of mold or decay in sight, other than a tiny bit of dust here and there. It's as if no one lived in it for quite some time, yet it was taken care of.

Three bedrooms, all fully furnished. Three bathrooms, also fully furnished. A kitchen that you couldn't even imagine in your wildest dreams. A living room. An attic, a basement, a garage. All of them with furniture inside. Several acres of land, as it had advertised.

"Is it to your liking?"

You whip around to see a woman with short black hair, brown eyes, wearing a dress shirt and tie with a long black skirt. She looks to be in her early to mid forties.

You're pretty sure she wasn't there before. Perhaps she came in silently and didn't mean to scare you like that.

"Yes. Yes! Of course! Is this seriously all for such a cheap price?" you ask, completely confused. Something isn't adding up here. There has to be some kind of catch, surely.

Her smile unnerves you just slightly, its a little too wide. She makes a cooing noise in the back of her throat, but snaps out of it quickly.

"The reason it's so cheap is because there's not that many people interested in living out here in the middle of nowhere. It's incredibly hard for us to get this off our hands."

You don't believe that's the only reason, but you decide not to question it. "And you're the realtor, right? Blair Watts?"

"That would be me!" she says cheerfully, although there's an edge to it that you can't place.

It doesn't matter anyway. This is the house for you. "So... where do I sign?"

Blair gestures to a paper and pen on the nearby table. You read over them.

Something about this house seems wrong. You should've listened to that feeling. But you sign the papers and hand them back to Blair, who takes it.

She smiles down at you, although her expression is a mix between condescension and what you think is relief.

"Welcome home," she croons. "If you need anything, feel free to contact me."

"Thank you!" you say, maybe a tad bit too quickly. But who cares! A mansion for such a cheap price! You're about to ask another question relating to the home, but in just one blink, she's gone. No trace she was ever there at all.

A chill goes down your spine. This woman is absolutely strange, although she didn't seem harmful in any way. Not in the physical sense, at least.

...

You move all your things with relative ease into your new home. It's not much to fill the space of a mansion, so you still have several empty rooms left. The furniture that's already there looks far too expensive and nice to get rid of or replace, so you decide to keep everything as is.

It could definitely use a makeover, if you have that kind of money anytime soon, but it isn't your top priority for now.

When you enter the room with your own things to decorate as your own bedroom, you notice it looks different than how you remember.

The walls are painted pastel, there's toys littering the floor, and even the bed has a cartoon-themed comforter spread over it. You glance behind you and see that nothing else looks out of place.

So weird. Maybe you just forgot which room you liked best, and didn't see this one earlier?

You back up, only to bump into someone. You drop all the boxes in your hands, and spin around with wide eyes. There stands Blair, a concerned smile on her face.

"Oh, what's wrong, honey?" Blair asks, her voice sounding like a parent trying to speak gently to their upset child.

Her arms wrap around your body. You freeze as she slowly rocks you both back and forth. Her touch feels cold yet not as solid as most normal touches are. As if it were... ghostly.

"Uh- yeah, I'm alright! Just... just lost my balance for a second there! But hey, when did you get here?" More importantly, why is she here?

She keeps rocking with you in her arms. "I never left." With a chuckle she finally lets you go. "That room is my favorite in the whole mansion. Isn't it lovely?"

You nod without thinking. You start gathering your dropped belongings as quickly as possible, and stand back up. When you look at Blair again, something really doesn't feel right. Her presence is uncanny, yet you can't really pinpoint why.

There's a slight haze that comes off her outline, almost like she's blurry around the edges. Like a bad photoshop edit on the image of reality.

"Yeah. Lovely," you mutter. "I swore it was different last time."

"Oh." Her smile softens. "I tried to decorate it to your personality."

"But it's not..." You shake your head. "Why? I don't understand what's going on..."

"My child deserves the best, after all." She makes that cooing noise again, which sends another chill down your spine. "How about we unpack?" You're in too much shock to argue when she kneels down to pull things out of your moving boxes.

"Hey, that's not--"

"Hush, dear. Mama needs a moment."

A long beat passes. "...What? Mama?"

Blair sets almost everything into a large pile--things like your electronics, books, paperwork, and other adult essentials. In fact, anything adult seems to have been set aside.

The only things left from the box is your stuffed animals and blankets.

Then she glances back up at you. "You can call me Mommy too, if you'd like. Anything but 'Mother'. Makes me feel old." Her voice gets distant. "I always wanted a little baby to raise as my own... that's why the price was so low! To encourage someone like you to buy this home. I could tell you would need me right away. I mean, look at you!" She gestures to your clothing and messy appearance.

You're too confused to even get offended. "Someone... like me? Aren't you the realtor? What's going on?"

She sighs. "No. Not technically. But this is all too complicated talk for you, silly. Grown-up talk will just overwhelm you."

"But..." You flinch when her smile fades just slightly. "Look... I don't know what's going on, but I think I wanna back out of this..."

"No. No, no, no. We can't do that."

"Well I just--"

"You just want attention," she scoffs. "Don't worry. You'll get plenty of it from Mama." She effortlessly picks you up, much to your shock. Is this a real person, or are you just losing it? "Now, how about some dinner, hm? I have many bottles and sippy cups already prepared for you, and more items for you on the way!" She peppers the side of your face in kisses.

They still feel cold, almost like ice. "Blair, please put me down! This has gone far enough!"

"If that's what you want..." She releases you, and you land with a hard thud onto the floor. You wince at the impact and lay there, taking a minute to process this interaction. She has the audacity to gasp in shock. "Oh goodness! Are you alright? Oh, my poor baby!"

You're too speechless to answer, and before you know it, she picks you up again. If you didn't know any better, you'd say this woman was legitimately worried over you.

For the rest of dinner, you tune out her words, in too much shock and confusion over your situation.

She gives you some sliced fruits and finger foods to eat, as well as a sippy cup filled with juice. You keep pushing the items away, but every time you do, she simply pushes them right back. Finally giving up, you eat, wondering when you can escape her and figure this place out yourself.

At the end of the meal, you push away the empty plates.

"Are you finished?" she asks in such a gentle tone, you nearly forget how scary she can be.

"Yes." Your voice sounds raspy and far-away. It makes sense, given what you've been through today.

"Very good!" she praises, pinching your cheeks as you sit frozen on the spot. She takes the dishes away and hums as she cleans up, her apron tied behind her back as she washes each plate by hand.

"...Blair."

"That's Mama," she corrects gently. "Try again. Here, I'll help you practice. Ma-ma. Can you say that?"

Your eye twitches. "Mama," you repeat emotionlessly. "I'm tired. Can I just go to bed?" Hopefully you can wake up from this nightmare.

"Yes, of course." She puts the wet dishes onto a drying rack to let them air dry. Her skirt swishes around her legs as she turns back to you. "Do you need my help changing into your jammies?"

"I'm not a child," you deadpan. "Let me just change clothes by myself and you go somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"How rude!" Blair says, putting her hands on her hips. "I try so hard for you, and then you disrespect me like this? You really do need discipline. Do you really think you can do whatever you want in this house?"

You go quiet.

She tuts. "You go get dressed into your jammies, and I'll come up in a few minutes to tuck you in. Got that?"

With that command, she nudges you towards the stairs.

You trudge up, each step taking much more energy than it normally should.

As soon as you step into your bedroom, you shut the door behind you. It's not like this door has a lock or anything, but at least she can't watch you while you get ready.

After you change into the childish pajamas she put out for you and climb into bed, you bury yourself under the covers and pray this all blows over by tomorrow.

She comes in, and you try your hardest not to glare at her. Blair sees that your eyes are open anyway and beams.

"There's my perfect angel~" Her cooing voice does nothing but terrify you now. You stay silent and try to ignore her gaze. "Now, would you like a bedtime story? Or perhaps a lullaby?" You feel her presence as she sits down next to your blanket-covered form.

"How about you tell me what you are? Why are you doing this?" You don't sound angry or even scared anymore. Just tired and done with everything that happened so far today.

You suppose there must be an explanation to this.

She takes a deep breath. "...I'm not... human. I used to be, but not anymore."

You blink. "Are you a vampire?"

Blair chuckles. "No, sweet pea." She hesitates a bit more. "I'm... I suppose what people would call a ghost." She speaks her last word so softly you nearly miss it.

"...A ghost?" You sit up. "You're lying! If you were a ghost, why can you touch me and other objects?"

She tilts her head. "Hm? Oh! That's because we're in my home. Where I died. As long as I'm here, I can be seen and touch anything like you can. I can leave, but I can't really do anything. That's why I made that fake listing. I'm lonely, and I've always wanted a baby of my own. But I died before I ever got to experience that."

"...A ghost..."

The pieces fall into place. Her blurry outline, her strange appearance, her odd behavior. It makes more sense than one would expect.

You can almost see pity in her brown eyes as she brushes a loose strand of hair from your face. "But now that you're here, I have my very own little baby to take care of!" Blair practically squeals in excitement. "My life--or rather afterlife--is complete now that I have you. And as long as you stay, I will always love and take care of you."

So if what she says is right, then if you escape, there's no possibility she could make you come back, or even be visible to you.

Blair frowns. "I know what you're thinking. But please reconsider! You're already settled in, and I want you to have everything you could ever need. This doesn't need to be negative."

You narrow your eyes. "...okay."

She doesn't like your dry, one-worded response, but chooses not to push it. Instead, she stands up.

"Sleep tight, angel. Mama loves you. I promise to show you that, okay?" She kisses your forehead and flicks off the light, closing the door behind her.

You hear her lock it from outside the room with a key.

[fireflycantsleep]

Royal Guard Simon Riley x Princess Reader

Part2.

SFW

Knight! Simón who is an exceptional watchdog, assists your aldo in all your royal duties by taking the place of your mother as queen. Budgeting for decorations, banquets, festivals, palace maintenance and making appearances when your father was unable or too busy to do so.

He came to all of that.

Even though he knew it would be extremely uncomfortable for him, Simon agreed. Because of you.

He could have sent one of his subordinates or even some of your maids to keep you company.

But he was a selfish bastard who wanted to be there, by your side, to make sure his little princess was okay.

His. Keeping away the gazes of the vultures that watched your tender, calm flesh.

He was willing to put up with your tantrums and tantrums when you asked to go out to tea parties and he denied you.Willing to listen to your little gasps behind the door that only he guarded. Listening to your little discoveries like how ants, no matter how small, would commit more war crimes for an insignificant piece of bread.

He would accept anything just to see your eyes fixed directly into his without fear. Without hesitation.

Your voice although sometimes awkward in connecting your tongue with your thoughts, you never failed to be direct and look at him as.... Perhaps if a terrifying man, but he had understood that you were strangely uncomfortable.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess" he asked quietly, standing in front of your bedroom door, not allowing you to leave. "I said you're not going to the orchard today."

You glared at him, protesting your excuses for going to check on your little new sprouts, downplaying the threat your father had given you for doing things for lower-class people. You didn't mind getting reprimanded by your old dad.

But Simon did. It made his blood boil to see you with your head down. Always.

"Wait until the waters calm down," he asked in a gentler tone. Which definitely confused you, taking the frustration away from your face.....

He liked that expression too.

[glowettee]

✰₀.₃ glowettee hotline: how to decorate your room (aesthetically & productively)

hi, angel. welcome back to another glowettee hotline entry. today’s dilemma is one of my absolute favorites because your space? it’s everything. it’s where you wake up, where you dream, where you work/study, where you rest. a beautiful room is not just about aesthetics~ it’s about creating an environment that makes you feel like the best version of yourself. i'm a natural introvert, so if you guessed it... my favorite location is my bedroom, a big reason why every inch is just filled with my personality. posters, collages of images from my pinterest boards, coquette-esque furniture. so i know exactly what it feels like to NEED a perfectly decorated room. so i hope this post can help you <3

✰how to decorate your room (aesthetically & productively)✰

☆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜

first, decide on a vibe. your room should feel like an extension of your highest self. it should feellike you, but still with a set aesthetic to keep it oranized and less disorganized. here are some ideas:

❥ soft coquette: lace curtains, ruffle bedding, dainty florals, balletcore elements.

❥ elegant academia: dark wood, gold accents, stacks of books, vintage details.

❥ clean girl minimalism: neutral tones, sleek organization, a clutter-free desk

. ❥ k-pop chic: pink LED lights, cute posters, plushies, a vanity full of glowy products.

❥ euro girl elegance: chandeliers, ornate mirrors, perfumes displayed like art.

✨ glowettee hotline tip: create a pinterest board with your name + room vibes (e.g., mindy’s elegant academia space). fill it with inspo until you see a pattern. that’s your aesthetic.

remember, you can CREATE your own aesthetic, it doesn't have to be the ones i listed, or ones you find online.

☆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 & 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞

before we add anything, we need to take things away. the fastest way to change the energy of your room? remove what doesn’t align with your dream self.

❥ toss out random junk, old clothes, or things that give you “meh” energy.

❥ organize your desk like an it-girl study space~ clean, inspiring, focused.

❥ replace clutter with intentional decor. things like: a candle, a vision board, a chic jewelry stand.

✨ glowettee hotline tip: apply the golden rule~ if it doesn’t make you feel ✨inspired✨ or ✨at peace✨, it doesn’t belong in your room.

☆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫 (𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 + 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥)

this is where your space truly becomes you. everything you add should have a purpose: to make your room either (1) more beautiful or (2) more productive.

aesthetic + functional decor ideas

❥ a statement mirror ~ for outfit checks, natural light reflection, & ✨ main character energy ✨

❥ a vision board ~ print out your 2024 goals, dream life inspo, and affirmations. frame it or pin it.

❥ soft lighting ~ warm fairy lights, a sunset lamp, or a delicate bedside lamp to set the mood.

❥ a chic book stack ~ self-improvement books, poetry, or classics that make you feel intellectual.

❥ a perfume tray ~ display your signature scents on a mirrored or gold-rimmed tray.

❥ wall art ~ framed quotes, magazine cutouts, a minimalist gallery wall.

❥ cozy bedding ~ a plush duvet, silk pillowcases, and an aesthetic throw blanket.

✨ glowettee hotline tip: if you’re on a budget, go thrifting for unique decor pieces or DIY things like a gallery wall with printed images from pinterest.

☆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠)

we don’t want a space that’s just cute~ we want a space that elevates you. structure your room so it guides you into your best habits.

❥ study/work zone ~ a clutter-free desk, a comfy chair, a planner, and all your school or work essentials neatly arranged.

❥ self-care zone ~ a vanity or dresser with skincare, perfumes, candles, and hair accessories.

❥ wellness zone ~ a small area for stretching, yoga, or journaling.

❥ relaxation zone ~ cozy blankets, soft pillows, a diffuser, and warm lighting for reading or unwinding.

✨ glowettee hotline tip: mentally associate each zone with its purpose. when you sit at your desk, it’s grind time. when you step into your relaxation zone, it’s time to romanticize rest. this trains your brain to be more disciplined AND productive without forcing it.

☆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞

✨ because a perfect room isn’t a one-time glow-up~ it’s a lifestyle. ✨

❥ keep surfaces clean & organized daily (messy room = messy mind).

❥ refresh your space weekly~ swap books, change out fresh flowers, rearrange decor.

❥ open your windows often~ fresh air + natural light change everything.

❥ light a candle, play soft music, and romanticize your space every day.

✨ glowettee hotline tip: every night before bed, take 5 minutes to do a mini-reset. put things back in place, fluff your pillows, and set up your space for the next day’s success.

and just like that, your room isn’t just a room anymore~ it’s a sanctuary. an extension of your most elegant, ambitious, soft-yet-powerful self. a space where you wake up every morning feeling inspired and go to sleep feeling at peace.

i wanted to give you ways to make your space aesthetic but also functional for your self-improvement journey as well. i hope this helps you.

♡ ~ mindy

whisper your worries to glowettee hotline. i’m listening. <3: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

[yournightmary]

Roommate!Ellie HCs | part II

content warning:: fem!reader, modern!AU, pretty sure that’s it

AN:: Hope you all enjoy this:) xx

part I here!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who loves going to the store with you. Whether you’re going to get the groceries or just doing a quick run for a snack- she’s tagging along.

also- definitely walks behind you like a kid, pointing at everything on the shelves and asking you if she can get that. Or just puts the most random and weird things in your cart.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who feels weird whenever someone touches her hair but still asks you to cut it for her. For the love of god, she can’t cut the back even if she wants to. If she does it herself she’ll end up with shitty layers, not in the cool grungy girl way.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who will get hyperfixated on one specific food and she will eat only that for two months straight. Then she’ll get sick of it and won’t be able to even look at it :(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who always helps you pick an outfit just so she can shamelessly stare at you. Also offers you to help with your hair, just so she can touch it and be close to you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who made you sit through a 9 hour youtube video about FNAF lore and later questioned you about it. Would pretend to be mad when you answered wrong.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who shares all her subscriptions with you. You two share a netflix account, you have spotify duo maybe even the apple one family thingy if you have an iphone. You always send her half the costs but she somehow always manages to give it back. Most of the times just buys you a gift with it.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who has the humor of a 12 year old boy. She knows all of the brainrot jokes and doesn’t get how you can’t understand them or don’t find them funny.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who tried to take you out on a date multiple times but it always ends up a flop. Whether you stumble upon some mutual friends and hang out together or just don’t do anything date-like, you never seem to pick up on her hints. You do. She’s just oblivious.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who made most of the art in your apartment herself. There’s definitely at least one portrait of you, proudly displayed in the living room.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who is the scary-bug killer in your duo. Big spider in the shower? Weird, flying, buzzing bug in your bedroom? Give her a minute tops and you’ll be safe again.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who literally cried when she got back from work before christmas, seeing the whole apartment decorated. Then she got excited like a kid when she noticed there were gifts under the mass cane plant, your budget too small to get an actual christmas tree so you just used the beloved house plant you already had.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who finally confessed her feelings on valentine’s day, when you both didn’t have a date so you just watched shitty rom-coms together. Was literally shaking on the couch and almost backed out twice.

your relationship didn’t really change once you became a couple, Ellie just got a lot more touchier. She denies it but her love language is physical touch. She’s a softie at heart.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ roommate!Ellie who leaves notes all around the apartment so you can find them while she’s at work. It’s mostly awful dad jokes, she probably gets them from Joel.

[3archangelsaints]

I'm actually dying and living for the idea that Simon Riley is such a hard worker for you. Being a soldier doesn't pay much, but considering how frugal he is, and how often he's overseas, he has money. Not rich, but with your income too, you could have what you wanted. You wanted to move to have a house, garden and all. Massive house. A few dogs. Marriage. He'd let you decorate how you wanted but he kept you in check, knowing sometimes you got overwhelmed with choices.

Luckily, his squad mates, who'd become family to you were there to be useful, who'd helped reduce renovation prices, ironically Price was in charge of delegation and keeping to the budget. The house was furnished and then painted. It was painted within a week, a light beige and brown undertones, you strictly stated no pure white as you said it was depressing. Clinical. Not homey. They all agreed.

Soon you were on Simon's shoulders, wrapping yellow led lights around the roof cover on the deck leading to the massive garden. Gaz and Soap were in charge of the music. You loved having everyone around for renovations because it made it an experience, made memories.

Price was finishing up on the phone to someone, someone you didn't know but it wasn't out of the ordinary. They were going to go on a mission soon. You paused and then you smiled. Feeling content.

After everything was done, you'd sat down and had takeout with everyone. And then there was a knock on the door, your head turning.

Price is up and at the door, in comes Laswell. Kate. Holding a drycleaning bag and you see your siblings and parents and friends walk in. You look confused. Dropping the food to greet then. Bewildered.

Then your niece snatches some food from your plate so you hug her from behind and lift her up as she laughs and pushes you off, complaining she's too mature.

And next thing you know Simon is on his knees. Handing you a simple band. "Will you marry me?" He knows its a yes, but he knows you'd love the on one knee thing, technically, he'd proposed with a promise ring, so he knew.

Next thing you know, you're being pushed into your room, into a wedding gown you'd shown Gaz and Soap one time when Simon had been deployed on a solo mission. You get married at the courthouse and had an intimate celebration in the garden at dark.

It was everything you wanted. Giggles and laughter as Simon's eyes never leave you, watching you keenly as you giggle and cheer in celebration. It's a shame he'd gotten married in his gear, but he was being deployed and had to leave by 5 am, they all did. You loved it. It was part of him, gear and all and his seargents and captain. And Kate. Bless her.

And soon you were saying bye to them all, Simon kissed you and then they were gone. Out the door and he took your heart with him. Kate came up and hugged you. She was like a mum to you. You hugged her back tightly, and she helped you set up sleeping situations for your friends and family. There were 2 guest bedrooms and a study, and the attic had space enough for all your friends.

Laswell helped you out the dress and take off your makeup, she'd undid your hair, brushing it for you and it was soothing. Like a kid being cared for. You went to bed in shorts and an old hoodie of Simon's. Laswell cuddled you to sleep, you didn't want to be alone and she knew that.

She saw the wound in your heart as they left. She was packing the open wound with gauze, it was painful, but right now, her doting was stopping the bleed.

I should actually do a long fanfic or even series of this cause I love the idea.

[joannasteez]

the aftermath

pairing: tattooist!cm punk x reader warning: mentions of needles, and biting, and explicit descriptions and dialogue pertaining to sex. tattooist!punk (this warning is more for me cuz he makes me delusional sometimes) authors note: nothing really. just enjoy! if so, don't be afraid to let me know! inspired by @kill-the-artiste master class in ✨tension✨… please go read. RUN NOT WALK! word count: 3500 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling @2-muchsauce

in for a penny of pain, in for a beauty by the pound

@ WARNING: all work is of quality but more importantly is done with respect to the bodies health and limits

the way your apartment window faces, you never get the sun till a ways after high noon. so no. this isn't your apartment. exhaustion playing in your legs. a good, sated, tired ache. like if you bend or extend too much too quick they'll cave in and collapse without warning. they'll remind you of how horrible it is, to make assumptions about a perceived strength. especially when it's so obvious that you aren't ready to leave the cool touch of his sheets. his. oh shit. because the bedroom in your apartment doesn't get much sun with the way it faces and it for damn sure isn't cream colored and littered with wood framed portraits. memory like a teasing trickle in of rain. little droplets collecting—his teeth grazing, the patient mischief of a wolf, sinking in to pull skin—till they ripple and pool together. a throb of something journeying to live between your thighs, swirling till it breaches skin again in an effect to make you shiver, to make you shift against the sheets because he,—"you can't stay still for shit can you?"—that's what he'd said. making rough impressions in your thick soft skin. holding and groaning and amused. buried amidst the pillow of your inner thighs, eager tongue dipping to lick against the desperate pulse of your clit. whimpers and moans and near shrill begging, and—oh God—your stomach swirls. embarrassment this deep exhale as your head falls in your hands. 

and for a second, the world plummets into something disgusting. a disturbing shade of gray. laughter breaking beyond the crack open of the bedroom door. because he could be laughing at you right? mulling over and recounting the events of the night with a buddy and having a go at making you miserable enough to delight in some fucked sort of amusement at the helpless way you moaned and teared for him. but thats not what it is. it's quiet chatter and early morning comedy. little hums of his early day coarse voice and a bold, earthy warmth. coffee. your mouth watering and the emptiness in your belly going about a great terrible violence as it growls and shudders. a hickory note of something twisting the air, the back of your throat dry, and seemingly—well...not seemingly, because that sort of implies some lack in surety. you'd made good, disgusting, honest, work of voicing just how much fun you were having. that much you remember, and fortunately, you remember everything. alcohol forgone for the sake of lucidity. because you know what he is. a buddy of yours just as clean and straightedged. 

in a fuller state of honesty, it'd be accurate to say it was all like form of reverence. an eagerness to please. anything if it meant him peeling your jeans off quickly. and yes, he'd done it. but it was more patient than you'd wanted. like he was reciprocating that reverence. studying and planning. 

his dresser draws are wooden, much like the rest of his decor. a polished mahogany that brings more warmth to the room. 

rolled up t-shirts sorted in no particular fashion, the fit of it snug as it falls over. 

at the corner foot of the dresser lays last nights underwear. a predetermined pick. simple, and black and lacy. nearly tattered to bits because his patience had eventually reached a max capacity before he dove headfirst into being a damn brute. 

underwear is a hot commodity when you ball on a budget. he owes you. 

you sift for something reasonable. a checkered pair of boxer briefs that fit more like boy-shorts, but it works. slipping your jeans over them. and his bathroom isn't so much huge but it is lived in. comfortable. the tiles, a sage green with minor cracks made more from age than from some man made disruption.

and thank God almighty. he's not the three-in-one type. a wash cloth and a toothbrush laying lonely along the bathroom counter, separate from the other things. you hum. going about a quick wash up. 

and whats that saying? it's only awkward if you make it awkward. because hell, there was nothing tricky or particularly delicate about fucking your tattooist right? you could do a small stint away. go cold turkey from your favorite past time. a silent walk of semi-shame and a few months till your next appointment would do the trick. enough time to forget such a destructive allure living with his words and the way he said—"you been waitin for this for a while huh? so pretty, lettin me touch you"—things. his every expression an accusation. exposing the unspoken things living behind just barely placid eyes. desires, fantasies and half baked plots for his attention.

the pain of a needle is no worser than this. cant be. cant be worser than the creak of the floors, announcing your entrance to the kitchen. his little chuckling smile forming less loose and more attentive as he drinks you in. an unabashed performance of observation that makes the skin crawl. a shiver really. green eyes cool, heavy, and exacting, like metal. like the prick of his needles. wandering with ease—your jean dressed legs, a clinging t-shirt that rides up some as you walk and the slow but sure appearance of indentations about your neck that indicate his penchant for tasting, biting —while stuck between a casual, early morning call and your performance of feigning indifference. 

he hums. a response to whoever is holding him over the phone. tongue slipping over his bottom lip before he's turning back to the stove.

coffee sits in a mug littered with dog breeds. the steam of it curling up thick. a plate half dressed next to it. just finished buttered toast and still hot eggs. his arm reaching over to drop bacon on it. teeth baring as he laughs into his call. flits of his eyes that motion for you to eat. stationing to lean against the long stretch of marble that makes up the kitchen island. a focused attention. assessing your quiet take to indulging in whatever this is. because he didn't need to make you breakfast, didn't need to brew you coffee and leave you comfortably tucked in the sheets. but then again, he'd more than generously put you to sleep. wore your nerves and bones down. rendered you to a bout of tears even. yeah. he owes you breakfast. your fork digging into the eggs. and a new pair of damn underwear. 

"yeah, i need you opening up shop for me today...", he gives. a sweet, feminine voice sighing deeply over the other end. loud and long enough to reach you. something in your stomach swirling odd and quite disgusting. sharp and twisted up. "...i'll be a little late, got caught up in something this morning...", the folding over of the words along his tongue giving your skin a chill. a ride of a shiver up your back. his eyes slipping over your face. a pale green leaving their edged, assessing, impressions. "...i owe you one...alright...", his thumb tapping the screen to end the call. 

the bacon is salty on the tongue. satisfies the nothingness on your palette. your fork poking dumbly. like you'll find brilliant words amidst the plate. a sick little smirk on his mouth. loving your inability to look at him without wavering. 

why in the absolute hell did you fuck this man? the fit of his boxer briefs odd under your jeans. poorly shaped to hips and thighs, the material not made to take that kind of stretch. 

"you owe me new underwear...", that declaration of it too feathered. not strong enough. not sure. his lips spreading more. joy taking his face up wholly. feeling it as he casts his eyes over you. "...i'll send a receipt or something...".

"noted. how do you like to take it?"

excuse me? your throat drying up. fingers clutching the fork tight. your belly flipping stupidly quick. too damn excitable. 

"what?"

the mug of coffee he'd poured for you in his hand. the sugar jar close by. spoon ready to be used for it's stirring purpose. an elation pouring from his cheeks that makes you want to curl in. "coffee". a slow, near patronizing reiteration. "how do you like to take your coffee". 

"oh...", breath a little caught in your throat. the unsettled frenzy under skin an oddity. because this very regular, slightly older, very good looking, self assured man, shouldn't have such an affect. "..um...a little sugar, a lot of cream". 

and he does it to perfection. listens and performs. giving short flits of his eyes to yours. stirring and assessing. an appraisal. your neck heating from the sensation of being examined. satisfaction brightening him up at such rough handy work made the night before. smug fucking asshole. that curling scrape of the spoon against coffee filled porcelain winding up your curiosities to a nagging degree. sensitivities under the skin too plain and forthright to ignore. too well suited actually. like they've taken up a comfortable residence after just one night of being made pliant. had others felt this way once upon a time? sat where you sit now? being made by themselves to snuff out the disgusting giddiness of some post-night spectacle. a green, rotten, world of a feeling in the pit of your stomach now. 

"do you—...", finding the phrasing, forming properly on the tongue, "...you usually get caught up in... things...like this?" 

a scoff but it's fully amused. his lips spreading, a chuckle slipping into words. "is that a 'do i regularly fuck my clients question', cause if so then no". the mug sliding along the marble island. coffee prepped pluming thick still. "you're the first. congrats". 

this fucking guy. "oh?"  that bite of irony in him, troubling the skin playfully, as if to lure you out from behind that disconcerting wall you've so diligently built, in an attempt to evade him. his eyes and that little smirk he feels the need to keep along his mouth. "i didn't realize you were some sort of prize". 

his head tilts, gaze slipping up and over and about. appraisal again. the look you give at the arrival of an object of affection, desire after some time. a satisfaction born from the restoration of a familiar, comfortable thing. your jaw shifting soft as you chew. lips pursing over the mug to sip tenderly. a drip of coffee falling off and away from your mouth. his pace quick as he plucks a napkin to hand you.

"i mean...", his body leaning in against the island. elbows pressing to the marble to bring him closer. his hair a little messy and untamed. "...i don't think so, but you were lettin a lot loose last night. little noises and such. i figured you were just so happy and satisfied...", grabbing his own mug to sip from. delighting in the silence, in the astonishment his teasing is leaving you to settle in. "...felt like you'd won something". 

your cheeks are warm. hot even. stomach suddenly full off of his domestic efforts of a hot breakfast. your fingers gingerly pushing the plate away towards him, but the pull and roll of your eyes speak of something a little more heated than some gingered, cautioned disposition. his cockiness doing awful work. irking your nerves and reeling you in just the same. and maybe it's your turn to appraise. to examine and assess. his early morning, kitchen attire very obviously calculated enough to bring about some dead-brained, teenaged, short circuiting. chest shirtless and his legs covered in mesh shorts. arms tatted and muscled. grays and dark brown hair like a fine patch work on his face. admirable things of course, but you've already, obviously, given yourself away in revealing how much of it you find appealing. he doesn't need more. 

an attempt to bruise should work. if not successful, at least give it a go right?

"you were alright", you shrug. chest hammering, near implosion. his eyes casting down, daring for an evasion. "i give it an A minus. there's always room for improvement". 

"ouch", he laughs. a wide, bright, light expression. dumping your finished plate into the sink. "if i knew i was getting tested on performance, i'd have strove for higher marks...". sipping from his mug again. a head shake to express disagreement. "...but some of the judgement here is a bit range-less...doesn't really grasp the full effect of my—"

"dick?"

you stiffen just after the leave of it. a thought never meant to be expelled but here you are, fighting the urge to curl in and hold your head. heart beating terribly hard. embarrassment rife. 

"...capabilities...but now i see where your heads at. i think this is grounds for some rescoring. you're impaired". 

"by what exactly?" 

he hums. that head tilt again. "you were a little eager last night, which, given how long you been wantin and schemin, is very understandable, but those good, true bits of judgement are from how well you can savor it right? you gotta stop and smell those roses". 

you scoff. "scheming is a reach". 

his eyes roll. pushing off the edge of the island. "an observation". shuffling back slightly to make a bodies worth of space. his hand motioning. "come here". 

"for what—"

"please", like he's sweetening the give of a request. an appeal. like he knows just the chord to strum to produce the work of some easier follow through. 

eyes softer but exacting. a clever lure in. like last night. like when he fit and slotted his mouth against yours and breathed deeply. fingers gentler and patient, pushing in to soothe the quake of your thighs. your body undone beneath him. performing a beautiful release with the song of all those little noises he couldn't help but to bring up now for his amusement. palms slipping between your legs then for more. to spread and curl. a dangerously steady feed in, swirling along the tender beginning of your pussy. toying and prodding, suckling your neck, and then a knuckle deep stroke that sorely excites already sensitive nerves. your legs pressing in to trap him to a stillness. his mouth at your ear. hot breaths, your skin shivering. a kiss to the shell of it before his delicate "please". that manner of request unfolding your legs easy. the simplicity of it forcing you to moan for him as he'd sought to take more from you.

your thighs press together hard, memory bursting till its coursing along every bit of skin. but you don't make to indulge him. testing the waters of this defiance. because he's obviously looking to stretch some authoritative muscle. "open, spread, be still", those the tender taste of his commands filling your mouth as he kissed you last night, and in your daze you complied swiftly. as eager as he'd said you did. the whole of him used to control. used to finely straddling lines of danger and succeeding well. what with his needles and their sharp, biting impressions. so no, you don't move, letting the thickness of the air settle deeper. playing at a naive rebellion done only by fragile little prey thought invincible. because this is it, isn't it? the thing that gets him going. sets his bones hot and fingers achy. 

it's a finger over licks of a fire, a push of the limit after already being burnt to a beautiful consumption. your brows pulling. hands palming your knees tight. "you bite". 

he smirks. bares teeth. steps calm to cover the distance. the patience of a wolf. "only upon request". 

his island chair is one that swivels. a short creak breaking as you turn to face him. laughing breathy, wry, shifting in place, searching for comfortability under the weight of his presence. his hard body slotting between your thighs. coffee on his tongue as he nears, mouth ghosting shy. his nose slipping at yours. a hard swallow in your throat as you feel him press in to wedge you against the chair and the island. "i never asked", a little docility to your voice. adverting your eyes, closing them, to refuse his own, another small performance. something refractory. his chest warm as you press forward into him. a hot hand running up along your back till its situating to cradle your nape. 

"you didn't oppose". 

his teeth sinking in to pull at your bottom lip. sharp enough for an abrupt wince. attempting to pry yourself from his grip, that palm at the base of your neck strong. corrective. short breaths huffing into his mouth as he kisses your lip. a light play at a remedy. the affection of it sweet and dotting enough that you rush in for more, much to his sudden displeasure. his throat humming, the confirmation of some long standing observation. the column of your neck warm from the run of his free thumb. that slip of a touch shivering you whole. hands gripping into the waist band of his shorts. knuckles aching. a terrible make at reprieve.

"being skittish is just a natural little condition of yours huh?" 

"no". your voice airy. feathered for him. 

"so just with me then?...", skimming his mouth at your cheek. a simple kiss to the apple of it. "...cause i can't really give you what you need when you're all excitable and eager like this...". another lingering kiss at the corner of your mouth. "...need some patience".

a near unbreathable daze forms about your head. eyes dim. the scent of him filling your nose till its blooming in your lungs. fingers curling and sweeping and releasing along his skin. at old tattoos and taut muscle. a pulse at the heart of your thighs that teeters your nerves on the verge of inconsolable. his fingers squeezing perfect at your neck. a purr of a moan in your mouth. "what else do i need?" 

his mouth slots for a full kiss, done up with breath and purpose. your palms holding firm at his waist for stability as he pulls you in. "a little direction". his tongue peaking to slip. a lazy lick at yours. your breath hitching at the wet curl of it. lips parting to receive. smirking as you whimper against him. "don't need you gettin distracted, then all of your attention gets eaten up by trivial little shit. you start making the real poor decisions then". 

"like pepsi logo tattoos...", you muse. "...and fucking your tattooist raw...", a languid, tongue filled kiss. air harsh through the nose to make up for the overtake of his mouth. the slipping noise of it lewd to the ears. makes your skin hot. hotter. urges erupting sure. a fragile hiss playing off your mouth, his teeth finding refuge over your lip again. a grunted moan hitting the air. his hands tucked under your knees, rushing to pull your thighs in, body at the edge of the island chair. you feed your tongue in again. eagerness unabated. "...you're not the first man with too many gray hairs trying to be my handler...", a snicker thats more like a scoff. a teasing tug at the waist band of his shorts again. making to release him but never getting to it. his mouth at your chin and your jaw, nipping and licking into your neck. "...i make your dick harder just a little more than all the others so now you want to manage me? make sure no one else is gettin in on this huh?..."

he digs into your leg. a harsh pinch that makes you jerk into him. "i'd only be offended if you didn't like me so much, didn't wanna fuck me so badly", his nose knocking into yours again. a bruising kiss by the firm pull of his lips. "something tells me you like a little correction...", a hand keeps your thigh cinched to him and the other releases your other leg to journey near the zipper of your jeans. "...being commended". 

his middle and ring fingers venture between. a faint circling where your jeans cover over the throb of your clit. the pace and patience of his touching and his mouth quaking your bones. irritated with an eagerness he seems to want to handle so insistently. 

his phone rings. 

you whine in protest. the slip away of him abrupt and emptying as he fishes for the phone. 

"relax", he muses. kissing the corner of your mouth. 

but he answers anyways. settles into the call so much till his brows pull. a focus that leads into that faithful disappointment of having to prioritize. green eyes casting over. taking stock of your face. his thumb soothing your lip, just where he'd bitten. 

the emptiness grows, occupying this shitty liminal space. and it only gets worse. the neediness he'd corralled snuffed out quick. something about "forgotten early appointments" and "taking you where you need to go". 

there are many valuable little notes to give to the self. an unwieldy feeling under the skin as you make to get your belongings. going about a terrible attempt of acting like he wasn't just about to give you a three-peat of last nights little fun. so close to feeling all of him just meticulously fed into you. 

the biggest note of all though. toughing your shoes on. annoyance playing unabashed. don't fuck your tattooist. 

[flowery-mess]

Midnights of October🍁🧡🎃

October 31st

Trick or treating with kids and celebrating Noah's birthday

warnings: Noah pictured as a dad, not edited lol

taglist: @concreteangel92 @sorrowsofsilence @lma1986 @stardustsirenmelody @dream-machine-love @mrsnoahsebastian (let me know if you want to be tagged or deleted!😊)

words: 1.6k

Modnights of October masterlist

*

„I’ll do my best Y/N.“ Nick said through the phone.

„Thank you, just let me know when he leaves your place.“

Milo and Thea asked you to do birthday surprise for Noah’s birthday and how could you say no to them. So you asked Nick and the boys to keep Noah entertained for the whole day on October 30th, so you and the kids can make cake and wrap presents for him.

“Mom how old is dad?” Thea asked you while you put her on the kitchen desk.

“He’ll be 29 tomorrow.”

“Wow he’s old.” You chuckled at that reaction.

“So, we’re making chocolate cake with number 29 on top made with strawberries, right?” you summoned the plan to your little helpers who nodded their heads at you.

“Remember it’s surprise Thea, you can’t tell dad.” Milo reminded Thea in the most ‘older brother’ way you could imagine. As an answer, Thea locked her mouth with imaginary key and then threw it away.

Thea was interested in the cake baking for whole 5 minutes, after that she occasionally came to steal strawberry or chocolate chip.

Milo was really helpful with mixing the ingredients and then decorating the cake. Thea then came with an idea to stick pictures of things Noah likes in the cake, so you had to print out a picture of Skye from Paw patrol (Thea made him say he likes her), you printed picture of Milo and Thea and then Milo said you should also print a picture of you, because Noah loves you.

When you were done you hid the cake in the storage fridge and went to clean the kitchen so Noah can’t see any evidence of chocolate.

“Cake done.” You said and ticked it off your paper. “Now let’s wrap presents for daddy.”

“Mom can I give daddy this plushie?” Thea asked you with the plush dinosaur in her hands. Mind you it’s not even hers, it’s Milo’s. She’s a literal threenager with her attitude of ‘I don’t give a shit’.

“That’s mine!” Milo says and takes it from her hands. Milo on the other hand is 5 years old, but acting at least twice his age. He’s very helpful and takes a lot after Noah. He’s taking his role of the man in the house very seriously when Noah is away. He always helps with cleaning the toys, he helps you carry some stuff from the grocery store and he plays with Thea. He also gives you the biggest hugs and cuddles, so you’re not sad while Noah is away.

You gave the kids a budget for Noah’s presents earlier in the week and took them to a shopping mall so they could choose what they want.

Milo chose a t-shirt with printed picture of all four of you. Thea chose a pink airplane pillow with cat ears and candy. Well at least it’s useful for Noah’s travels.

When everything was wrapped, you put it away so Noah couldn’t see it until tomorrow and then clean the mess you all made.

He just left. Text from Nick appeared on your screen just when you put the last presents under the kids bed.

-

The next morning you were woken up by four little legs running in your bedroom, then jumping in your bed and yelling “Happy birthday dad!”

“Oh wow, thank you.” Noah took them both to lay down with you, attacking them with kisses.

“Group hug.” Thea yelled in her little voice.

You and the kids laid on top of Noah and started singing him happy birthday song. Noah didn’t have a choice with celebrating his birthday since the kids got the concept of birthdays. They didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to eat cake and get presents, so Noah had to push through and he became more fond of it when he saw their faces lit up with joy when he was surprised from the gifts they got him.

After few minutes you send Thea and Milo to brush their teeth and change their clothes so you could have a moment with Noah.

“Happy birthday love.” You whispered one more time, brushing Noah’s nose with yours.

“Thank you.” He smiled back at you and grabbed your chin to pull you into a kiss.

“I hope you’re going to have fun today.” You laid your head on Noah’s chest.

“Who wouldn’t have fun dressed as Dipsy?” Noah’s answer was followed by laugh from both of you.

You’re going trick or treating with the kids later and wanted to have family costume and Thea came up with one. You’re going as Teletubbies, which is one of her latest favorite shows to watch.

You spent the next few minutes cuddling with Noah, enjoying the calm before the storm.

“Let’s feed our little monsters.”

-

“Dad you have to put the hat on.” Thea commanded Noah when you were ready to leave the house.

Thea and Milo had full on costumes of Laa Laa and Po, you and Noah got away with just green and purple t-shirts and hats with ornaments.

You planned on trick or treating in your neighbourhood and then meet at Matt’s house with everyone for a little Halloween gathering.

You’d start at your older neighbour’s house who would had a genuine laugh at your costumes, saying it’s a cute one and then take a lap around the whole neighbourhood.

“Okay everyone ready?” you asked after you closed the car door and looked over your shoulder to see if the kids were strapped in and had their buckets.

“Yes!” they yelled together.

-

At Matts house it was pure mess. Kids everywhere, fighting over who got more candy, candy wrappers on the floor.

Noah and the boys were making dinner outside while you talked with the other girls about kids or who’s coming with the boys on the next tour. You also had to take Thea’s candy bucket, because if she’d eat some more she would be impossible to put in bed later.

When the sun started to set Milo whispered in your ear “When are we going to celebrate daddy’s birthday?” and that was when you knew it was time to go home.

On the way back home your kids kept exchanging looks and mysterious laughs in the back seats.

“And what are you two up to huh?” Noah asked them, looking at them through the mirror.

“Nothing.” Thea said very trustworthy.

-

Back home you send kids to change into some comfy clothes while you and Noah put the costumes and candy away. Then you send Noah to put some movie on and get the living room ready for movie night.

You told Milo and Thea to get ready with their presents and went to get the cake.

“Shh Thea. We’re going to sing at the count of three, okay?” you looked at Milo and Thea for confirmation and started walking in the direction of the living room.

When you were about to reach the main room of your house you silently counted to three and then you all started singing.

Noah turned around with genuine surprise on his face. Thea started jumping around him while still singing, you and Milo standing still in front of him.

“Make a wish daddy!” Milo told Noah when he went to blow candles on the cake.

“What did you wish for daddy?” Thea asked, already eyeing the chocolate cake.

“That’s a secret, you’re not supposed to tell or it won’t happen.” Noah explained the point to Thea and picked her up. “What is this? A surprise birthday party? With all of you?” Noah asked looking at you.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t think we would miss a celebration of your birthday?”

“Let’s have a cake then.” Noah kissed your forehead and led you to kitchen with his hand on your lower back.

After having sweet treat in the form of the cake you made with your little ones, you made Noah open the presents.

“Wow travel pillow, I wanted that!” In the case of Thea’s gift Noah didn’t have to act surprised, because he was, but also wasn’t, knowing his daughter.

“Oh Milo, that’s amazing! I’m going to take that on tour as well.” Noah’s eyes were full of love for his kids, looking at the t-shirt you helped Milo make, with the picture Bryan took of you just a few months ago.

“Last but not least.” Noah picked up box from you and opened it. He really saved the best for last, his eyes looking at you with slight hint of happy tears in them.

You got Noah custom made bracelet in silver, with three little silver plates and each of them has written name in its own handwriting. On the left is Milo’s, yours in the middle and Thea’s on the right.

“Thank you.” Was all Noah could get out before his voice would crack from holding the tears in. He gave kiss to all three of you and of course put everything on to show you how he fits everything you got him.

After the little party you all cuddled up on your couch and started the movie Noah chose, you and Noah on each side with Milo and Thea in between.

You felt Noah’s hand intertwining with yours with gentle squeeze, so you turned your head to look at him.

“Thank you,” he mouthed silently, “for everything.”

And he meant it, and you knew. He’s thankful for you, the kids, the house you two got yourselves, for time spent together just like today. He hates leaving you when he’s going on tour, but it also made him appreciate his little family more.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

When he was still living with his parents, Lambert would have given anything to have a Christmas like the ones on TV: The perfect tree, a loving father who would get mildly annoyed at the kids, but never angry and a whole bunch of presents. In the years following The Incident - with Christmas in various group homes being a bit of a non event - those spent under Vesemir's care came close, but - in a Christmas tradition of their own over the last twenty or so years - they were always met with disappointment from all parties at some point when Lambert either wouldn't or couldn't fit into the cookie cutter Perfect Family Christmas in the same way his brothers found so effortless (he still didn't think the old man had quite forgiven him for the first Christmas he could legally drink. He went barhopping with friends and left a puddle of vomit under the tree when he finally stumbled home early Christmas Eve morning). This year however was shaping up to be quite different for many reasons.

Lambert couldn't help but smirk to himself as he compared the decorations on the syrupy, Hallmark Christmas movie to the ones surrounding him. Their tiny, battery operated Christmas tree blinked at him cheerfully from the waist high bookcase they used as a marker to separate living room space from bedroom space, the ceiling was covered in the paperchains they'd sat making with Ciri last time they were babysitting after Aiden had found a huge pack of multicoloured craft paper on discount, the windows were covered in snowflakes in every colour of the rainbow made from the same stuff (which Lambert had found amusingly fitting, all things considered). Fairy lights had been a no-go unfortunately after an unexpected bill threw off their budget for the month, but maybe next year...

Sleepy snuffling and movement from the other side of the bookcase caught his attention and the smirk turned into a fond smile as Aiden emerged from under the covers and shuffled the five steps from the bed to the tiny kitchen area.

"Hey babe. Esk sent me home with a sandwich for you from lunch, it's in the fridge if you want it." Lambert called out, causing Aiden to grumble something and wave a hand in thanks and acknowledgement. Lambert turned his attention back to the TV, but didn't bother turning up the volume from the low murmur he'd set it at to avoid waking Aiden as he slept off a double shift at the bar; stumbling home in the early hours and briefly running into Lambert on the threshold as he was leaving for his own day at work with Vesemir and Eskel.

Aiden wordlessly handed him a mug of sachet hot chocolate and set his own on the coffee table before joining him on the couch, pressing into his side with a happy wiggle and a pleased hum as he took a bite of his sandwich. Extra cheese and extra relish - just how he liked it. They sat in silence for a few minutes while Aiden ate and Lambert sipped at his hot chocolate, one arm around Aiden's shoulder, his thumb stroking idly.

"Did you get a chance to talk to your dad about tonight?" Aiden asked as he dusted his hands free of crumbs.

"He was... surprisingly chill about it."

That was a conversation Lambert had been kind of dreading. It was tradition that the Lupeson kids and any partners (and kids of their own in Geralt's case) gathered at the family home Christmas Eve for a night of eating, drinking and wholesome family fun. He'd gone to Vesemir that morning to explain that Aiden and himself wished to be excused. He'd had a whole speech prepared about how they'd both saved for their apartment from the ground up - despite both Vesemir and Guxart offering to help with a deposit so they could get something better - and it was nothing personal, it was just after all the blood and sweat and crap they'd gone through together and individually to reach this point, they'd both come to the realisation the previous day that they just wanted to experience Christmas Eve in their own crappy little apartment. Just the two of them.

He'd been met with Vesemir's trademark mouth tilt and he'd gotten as far as "It's just that-" into his speech before the other stopped him with an "I understand lad. God knows neither of us ever thought this would be how things turned out for you." The easy acceptance had been a bit of a shock as was the back pat, "Enjoy it, you've worked hard enough for it. Make sure you're both around for midday tomorrow."

"Told you he wouldn't mind. I actually think things might improve between you two now you're not constantly in one another's space."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. Happened with Guxart and Axel. Now, what the bloody hell are we actually watching and why is that woman having a literal breakdown over a Christmas cake?"

The rest of the day passed more or less the same way. Drinking crappy hot chocolate and laughing at even crappier Christmas specials, snuggling under the blanket Lambert dragged from the bed once the temperature went down along with the sun and leaving their building only to grab takeout and treat themselves to a bottle of top shelf whiskey after Guxart dropped some cash into Aiden's account, saying it was a Christmas/housewarming gift and he'd try to visit after New Years.

"Think he'll ever take Ves up on his offer to spend Christmas over here?"

Aiden shook his head as he poured them both another measure, a couple of drops falling onto the blanket they'd spread out on the floor along with the booze and food earlier in a living room picnic, "Guxart hates traveling around the holidays. Plus, I don't think any of us would survive the sexual tension between them for a whole two days. Hey!" He scooted over until he was sat in Lambert's lap, shoving his phone in his face, "It's gone midnight." He said with a grin and a firm kiss, "Happy first apartment Christmas, Pup."

Lambert snorted, pulling the other further into his lap, "Really. That's what you're going with?"

"Humour me, please."

"Fine, fine. Happy first apartment Christmas, Kitten."

Lambert guided Aiden back into a slower, deeper kiss as footage from a midnight carol service somewhere started playing. Screw Hallmark. As far as he was concerned, this right here was the perfect Christmas.

[helios-writings]

There are some days when Shanks feels bad about not being able to give you the life he thinks you deserve. Days where you and he barely see each other because the pair of you are working overtime. Days where the two of you sit at the table, stressed about what bills you can cover and what you’ll have to live without.

Others days, he knows, are better. Curled up in each others arms on your days off, the smell of breakfast cooking even though its two in the afternoon. Still, he’d always dreamed about giving you a life of luxury, about spoiling you and making sure you didn’t have to work another shitty job if you didn’t want to. He’s not quite there yet, but he hopes one day he will be.

The two of you are walking hand in hand through the richer shopping district, windowshopping in all the pricier stores that give him hives just thinking about stopping in, but he loves the way you smile as you envision how you would decorate the foyer of your fictional mansion with a giant gold and crystal chandelier.

He laughs, not at you, but at the absurdity of it. “What would we need with something like that, huh?”

You shrug. “Sometimes things are just nice to have.”

He’d buy you a million of those ugly things if it meant making you happy.

Instead, Shanks points to something else. “And where would you put this?”

“Our living room, right next to the giant comfy couch, so I can admire it while I sit next to you.”

The two of you carry on like this, until you find a cozy old antique shop buried inbetween two high end boutiques.

“Lets go in here.” He tells you, stopping you with a gentle tug on your hand.

“Antiques? I didn’t know you liked old stuff like that.”

“I had a crush on our high school math teacher, didn’t I?”

You roll your eyes. “And yet, you’re here with me.”

He elbows you playfully in the side. “Well, she couldn’t compare to you.”

You just laugh and head inside the store.

The inside smells like dust and the culmination of other peoples belongings, but he’s drawn to the jewelry shelf towards the entrance, whilst you wander off by yourself down one of the countless aisles. The shelf holds many pieces of jewelry, but what catches his eye is a pair of wedding rings, obviously on the older side, but the feeling hits him so fast, it feels like his heart has fallen to his feet.

Shanks had never thought about proposing to you. Not in a “terrified of marriage” way, but to him you already were. But, standing in that store, the need had never been more apparent, and the rings were within his budget. It felt like a sign from on high, even if you were the one who believed in signs like that.

You both left the store half an hour later, his wallet a bit lighter, but pocket heavier.

You make dinner that night, something simple, but delicious and Shanks, never one to second guess himself, jumps right in.

“I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widen as you nearly spit out your drink. “Wh-“

He pulls the rings out and continues. “I know you didn’t dream about living in a one bedroom apartment with shitty heating and cooling, and that you deserve better than I can give you, but I promise you that you’ll have it one day. Whatever you want, a big house, dogs or cats, a huge ugly gold and crystal chandelier in the foyer. I want to give that all to you.”

You take his hand in yours. “Shanks, baby, we may not live the life you think we deserve, but I live the life I want with you every day. I don’t care about any of that stuff, not really. So what if our heating breaks in the middle of winter? So what if I can’t have a big yard or house? I’d rather have you.”

He feels his eyes get a little misty and he turns away. “I’m not the one who’s supposed to be crying here.”

You roll your eyes and slip one of the rings on. “I’ll marry you.”

He kisses you deep, a grin on his face that won’t go away no matter how hard he tries.

The wedding takes place in a court house, costing no more than 120 dollars and the two of you wearing the nicest clothes you can afford, but its perfect and neither of you would dream of anything else, not when you have each other. This is the life you deserve, and he can give it to you after all.

[thinkpink212]

The Thinkpink Guide To a Pretty Pink Soft Life - Setting the tone for 2024

Hello lovelies, we've entered November and have one more month to go before we officially reach 2024! This time last year I sat down and wrote out the goals I now have fully compleated through manifestation, dedication and persistance. I've been asked before how I did it, so here is how.

1. It is important to have the mindset of a believer. More importantly, you must be a believer in you. Belive that you can and will have everything you desire simply because you desire it. You are the univers expanding, creating and experiencing itsefl. Once you believe, as well as trust in your abilities, vision(s) and start honoring yourself - You will become who you want to be (which is who you already are, just not yet)

Once your mindset is shifted, you need to get down to the specifics.

2. The Four Seasons - Work with nature, never against her. One of the reasons why I felt so sucessfull achieving my goals were the way they were divided. I had 3 major and minor goals for the whole year. These goals were centered around what would further me towards the life I wanted, with the seasons in mind divided into 4 phases. I wanted to factor in changing weather, possible shifting mood's, hollidays and much more to avoid any distraction or change of plans due to seaosn.

Examples

A. Major Goal was to graduate Massage School -> Lead to more financial abundance, freedome due to being more in control of my schedule etc. This had a deadline as school had a start and an end. It required dedication for studying, funds, and also for me to find a job afterwards. Took 8 months and three weeks exactly. B. Minor Goal Finish decorating my bedroom, in the home I had manifested -> Led to a safe, comfortable and tranquil enviorment that was costumized to my liking and need. Boosted my mood, as I had a sanctuary. This had no deadline, so it felt like a fun activity where it required funds, patience and selectivness. Took me 11 months to get 85% of what I wanted for my room. It is considered acomplished even though I may add more in the future, C. Summer is a time we want to let loose, have fun and be outside, so my goal of writing everyday felt easy enough untill the sun was calling my name everyday to go enjoy it. So, I implimented writing 30min daily, where any 30min not spend would be allocated to days were I did not have plans within that same week. Once I had to write for 3 hours (which I did) but never again did I skip my 30min. Most of it occured during late evenings as it was when I was already back home, few distractions and so on. - A habit I created was writing on public transport. The 13min back and forth was no longer spend scrolling but instead editing, writing, brainstorming etc.

3. Be selective and prepare for temporary sacrafices. Being real with yourself to choose what you truly want to dedicate the whole year to is crucial for a great year. Sometimes what we want can be stacked/combined. The more selective you are with your goals, and your words, the less things you put on your Goals list and can potentially transfer those to your Phase overview. put on your overall list of achievments. And be prepared to sacrafice time, habits and other pleasures that need to be paused for you to get to where you need to be.

Example; Major Goal 1 -> to become Financial Stable Phase 1 (January through March) -> Start Education / Courses that will alloow higher earning. -> Get a side husstle or main job earning x amount. -> Stay on budget of x amount weekly/monthly

4. Remind yourself of who tf you are Staying on track is easy while the spark is there, but after a few weeks, months, maybe even a season, sometimes that spark can start to seem like a tiny flame in the dark. Remind yourself of who you are becoming through moodboard, playlists, friends you trust who you can openly talk about your moves without fear of evil-eyes. Staying motivated is important as that is your fuel, so do what you need to keep your eyes on the prize. I personally made a pinterest board for each month, made sure to change my background to the focal of the Phase I was in, listen to the same three playlists whenever I got down. Journaling And I had an amazing tight circle of friends I would talk to about my moves.

5. Faileur is not a word you know - Rejection is redirection I do not recognize faileur, instead, I see it as the universes way to tell you you've chosen the wrong brick path and need to go left or right instead. So get up, dust yourself off and get to it. Sometimes life happens, so remind yourself that you can call it, go to bed and try again tomorrow. And I would like to emphesis on the fact that you do not have to start in January. You can rest then and start during the Astrological New Year (Aries season) and move in allignment with the Astral Plain rather then our sociatal concept of time. Just never give up, regroup and redirect.

Lastly, if you find yourself done before the year is over (like myself), spend that time further enjoying the fruits of your labor and give yourself a round of applause. Never forget that all is possible, you are a creator so create your reality even if it takes a little elbowgreese till you get the hang of it!

Goodluck to you all <3

[valeriele3]

Fever Dream

Multiple Fandoms x GN!Reader Characters: Mao Isara, Trey Clover, Kaedehara Kazuha, Shikanoin Heizou, Ritsu Sakuma Warnings: Besides cringe and bad grammar, nothing

This is currently incomplete and only contains Mao! I will edit in the other parts when it releases. I’m so sorry for the wrong tags

There you lay on your bed, tired and quite clearly sick.

You felt utterly terrible, but it'll all go away with a bit of sleep, right?

And so, that's what you did. You close your eyes and let the oncoming sleepiness take you to dreamland.

While sleeping, you sense a figure looming over you.

Which you would normally ignore had you been staying at your parents' house, but guess what? You weren't there right now. You were currently staying at your apartment, which you certainly didn't share with anyone.

Quickly stirring awake, you grab the lapel of the intruder's clothes, put your arm near the armpit, and throw them over.

You were about to bash their head in with the nearby book you had, but you paused when you heard them groan in pain.

'That voice sounds familiar..' you thought, and upon looking much closer to the intruder, you see Mao Isara on the ground.

Hold up, MAO ISARA?!?! THAT MAO ISARA?!?

That didn't make any sense; Mao wasn't real; he's a fictional character!

'What if he's a robber in a cosplay!?' The thought was absurd, but hey, the current situation itself was absurd.

You were pulled away from your thoughts by the sudden voice that entered the space.

"Oww..What'd you hit me for..? That hurt" The robber cosplayer mumbled

You observed the man once more and finally noticed how your surroundings were different.

This room wasn't your bedroom; hell, this place wasn't even your apartment!

So that means that this intruder didn't just invade your home but also kidnapped you while you were asleep!

"-ello? Y/N? Are you alright?"

"You aren't sick, are you?" The man puts the back of his palm to your forehead.

"Geez! You're burning up! C'mon, let's get you to your room." The man hurriedly ushers you to what you now presume to be your bedroom.

Why did you just let the man basically drag you to your "bedroom" without putting up a fight? You honestly don't know yourself, but what you do know is that you're feeling ill. Very ill

After laying you down, the man rushed to get some medicine and, apparently, soup.

Hearing the bedroom door shut seemed to shake you out of your stupor.

You then begin to assess the situation.

'Alright, so the last thing I remember doing is falling asleep in bed. Then I suddenly awoke in this mysterious house. apartment? dorm? and, uh, a weird kidnapper who likes to cosplay."

‘I could probably escape through the window, but seeing how high up this place is, I would definitely break my legs, which isn’t ideal if I want to escape. The front door is out of the question too; I don’t even know the layout of this place, and it could be locked, hello neighbor basement door style.”

After realizing that you were basically not figuring anything out, you decide to look around the room.

The bedside table had a lamp, a clock, a picture frame, and a tumbler filled with cold water inside.

The walls were painted in f/c, and the decor was something you had only dreamt of having. Things that you wanted to buy but couldn't because of your budget.

'Let's see... a closet full of clothes that are quite fashionable, if I do say so myself." These clothes were definitely your size and fit your personal tastes. It seems the kidnapper did his research.

'Wait a minute. Did I just see a picture frame earlier? 'You quickly look around the room once more until your eyes land on the frame placed atop the bedside table.

You quickly grab it, and to your surprise, there in the frame was a picture of you with Ritsu Sakuma and Mao Isara. Two of your favorite characters in the game Ensemble Stars

Hooray! It looks like you got isekai’d in an alternate universe where you live in the Enstars world.

A knock on the door catches your attention.

It seems that Mao finished making the soup.

“Ahem..Come in! ”

The door swings open, revealing the maroon-haired man holding a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and a pack of medicine.

“Here. Eat it while it’s still hot.” He places the items on your nightstand.

Still refusing to believe you got isekai’d in the Enstars world..you suspiciously look at the soup.

“Why’re you just staring at it? ”

“C’mere, sit.” He forces you to sit on the bed and grabs your ✨✨epic gamer chair✨✨.

He grabs the spoon and scoops out some soup, then blows on it to cool it down.

He then puts the spoon near your lips, signaling you to open them.

It seems that Mao Isara will be spoon-feeding you today. That’s one thing you never expected to happen.

“I’m not hungry, I—” Like a cliche scene in some drama or anime, your stomach growls, betraying what you had just said.

“Pfft.” He struggles to stop his laughter, but it soon fails, leading him to burst out in laughter.

He scoops some up again, cools it down, and puts it on your lips. This time, you allow yourself to open your mouth and swallow the soup.

He chuckles,

“What? Why’re you laughing?? ”

“It’s just... it really boosts my confidence whenever you eat my cooking, y’know? That sparkle in your eyes tells me that you enjoy it.”

“W-Well, it is delicious..So..ugh..just feed me more, please..I’m hungry.”

Mao chuckles, “Alright~ say ahh~”

You close your eyes and open your mouth

When you reopen them again, instead of “your room” and Mao in front of you you’re greeted with the sight of Trey Clover spoon feeding you

“Hm? What’s wrong? Is it still too hot?” He blows on the soup before attempting to spoon feed it to you again

“T-Trey?!!”

“Yes?”

“You’re Trey, like..Trey Clover!?”

“Uhm, yes, that’s me. Trey Clover” He seems surprised by your sudden change of..Mood? You assume

Part 1 ends here! Other parts will hopefully be released soon <3

.ೃ࿐Reblogs are highly appreciated! ^^

[stargazer-sims]

Tatsu’s Terrible New House

There you go, Tatsuhiro. You’re all moved into your new house.

Tatsu: Thanks. I hate it.

What’s wrong with it?

Tatsu: Oh, let’s see now. How about… everything? Well, everything except for that water thing out front. I like that.

This is a perfectly good house. There’s plenty to like besides the water feature.

Tatsu: Sure, if you’re into something that looks like the interior design equivalent of Agnes Crumplebottom and Bella Goth’s science baby. Like, have you even seen that hideous bathroom? I mean, if you’re gonna have a black bathroom, it should be as black as the inside of a vampire’s coffin, not with all those flowers and weird decorative shit.

Are you done?

Tatsu: No, I’m not done. I don’t suppose you’re aware that the entire upstairs is nothing but empty rooms? Some of them have nothing but drywall. There isn’t even a bed! It’s lucky that I’ve got a sleeping bag in my inventory, ‘cause otherwise we might have a problem.

Anything else?

Tatsu: I paid a lot of simoleons for this place. I expected better. I may have to make a complaint.

To whom, exactly? I’m the Watcher. There’s nobody higher up than me.

Tatsu: Fine. Then I’ll post it all over Social Bunny so everyone will know what a crappy job you’re doing.

I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we decorate the place exactly how you want it? You can be in charge, and I’ll even do ‘motherlode’ for you so you won’t have to spend your hard-earned simoleons.

Tatsu: You mean like, an unlimited budget?

Yes.

Tatsu: Can we access the hidden and locked objects too?

Sure, why not?

Tatsu: All right. I guess I can get behind that.

We have a deal, then.

Tatsu: Okay, first things first. I need a bedroom, and I want it to be spooky and intimidating. Lots of purple and black, and I need a lot of candles too.

Okay. I’m not even going to ask why you want that.

Tatsu: Good call. Can you also— No, wait… on second thought, can we get rid of that floral wallpaper in the bathroom first? I’ll sleep on the floor for one night if I have to, if it means I can get up to pee in the middle of the night without my bathroom walls giving me nightmares.

…

[choicesgodfanatic]

Best Part

It was a snowy Christmas eve Becca was shoveling snow as Tom was in the bedroom the man sighs looking up at the ceiling as he grabs his phone from his pocket looking at which bill to be paid.

"Honey?" Becca comes into the room with something behind her back she tries not to smile. Tom looks up at Becca and tilts his head as he sits up crossing his arms "What is it Becca?" She smiles throwing a ball of snow onto Tom's face. The man blinks and chuckles "You know this means war!" Quickly Tom runs After Becca the two heading outside as they begin throwing snow balls at Each other A snowball hits Becca's face and She growls throwing a few more at her boyfriend. A few more minutes later Tom smiles building a snowman with Becca. "Let's add in the carrot here"Becca puts a carrot under the snowman and apples at the bottom giving Tom a smirk. The man shakes his head and laughs "Naughty much?" He grabs the carrot and puts it on the snowman on his face. Becca kisses her boyfriend cheek and her phone rings "Oh it's Dad"She says and Tom frowns. Becca's father doesn't like Tom due to Tom's job being a tattoo artist. Her father wanted Becca to be with someone who'll earn her money and provide for her such as a lawyer and a doctor... something like those or more. Tom brings in enough but to Becca's father he wants his daughter well taken care of. "Ahuh Yes daddy well be right over today" Tom's eyes widen as Becca hangs up she grabs her boyfriend's hand and kisses his nose "Honey my parents are inviting us to thanksgiving dinner" Tom immediately shake his head as he stares at Becca crossing her arms "Fine babe but you know how your father is" Becca holds Tom close kissing his cheek "It will be fine" After building the snowman and snow woman they both admire their work.

Tom holds Becca close to him kissing her softly they then enter their car driving off. The drive took an hour as Tom parks the car Infront of the gate towards The Davenport household. Inside the gate was a Home with Six bedrooms A kitchen and living room the last time they both came Becca's father kept degrading Tom because of his job what'll happen this time during Christmas eve the young man wonders. The couple steps out the car and walks towards the big home Becca's father was a blond haired man with a lumberjack beard wearing a business suit and her mother is a busty woman with brunette hair and a pink dress.

"Mommy and Dad You know my boyfriend of four years Tom?"

Becca mother Rose smiles At Tom hugging him "It's been awhile Tom glad you made it to our family Christmas dinner" she giggles as Tom hugs her back "Thank you miss Davenport. I'm happy to make it with Becca" He looks over at Greg Becca's father as the man scoffs "Whatever come inside" The four steps inside the Davenport household Christmas decorations all over the place. Under the front door was a mistletoe Rose and Tom stepped inside first and Rose kisses his cheek pointing at the Christmas item above their door Becca and Greg enters inside after them.

"Oh my God Eggnog!" Tom excitedly runs to the table and Greg rolls his eyes as he grabs a cup of eggnog sipping it. Rose and Becca sits on the couch. "So Tom how's that little job you have..you being a tattoo artist?" Greg grunts as he leans against the wall crossing his arms starring at Tom. "It's good. Unfortunately I had to let an employee go due to budget cuts" Tom says as he looks towards Becca and rose. "Greg Dear it's Christmas work talk will be later! For now come see my little girls pictures!" Rose says excitedly. Eagerly Tom sits between rose and Becca and she pulls out a photo album. Becca's face turns to a shade of pink as her mother shows a picture of her riding a bike in training wheels. "This was my little snookie when she was in 5th grade" Rose giggles. Tom smiles as he holds Becca close "You looked adorable" Greg smiles sitting on the armchair of the couch as his arms is around rose "I remember soon she fell her teeth came out and I had to get the tooth fairy to put money under her pillow"The Room was full of laughs as they continued to look through the photo album each moment embarrassing yet fulfilling as Becca is shown love. After twenty minutes Rose stands up stretching "oh your sister will be coming in an hour we need Chocolate cake" Becca smiles at Tom as he stands up grabbing his car keys "I'll get it" Greg stands up from the couch as well. "I'll come with someone has to make sure you don't fuck this up" Tom rolls his eyes as they both walk towards the car they then drive off leaving Becca and rose to prepare the rest of the Christmas dinner.

As Tom drives his grip is on the steering wheel Greg crossed his arms turning on country music. Tom looks over at Greg turning the country music off. "Why'd you turn it off boy?" The man grunts. "I'm not in the mood for country Greg" Becca's father growl at Tom "it's Mr Davenport to you" The drive continues in silence and soon after they made it to the bakery. Stepping inside the line was long the store plays all I want for Christmas is you. Tom pockets his hands and Greg crossed his arms. "Fuckin long ass line. " Greg mutters. Tom rolls his eyes "Not everyone manages a multi million dollar company Greg" Before he can reply a man with orange short hair and dark clothes pulled out a gun pointing it at the cashier "Robbery! Everyone hands the fuck up!" The store was full of screams as everyone kneel with hands up Greg grits his teeth as The robber points his gun at each person taking their belongings the man steps up to Tom and Greg. "Wallet and jewelry give me all your shit" Tom stands up as Greg whispers "Are you insane?!" Tom looks into the man's green eyes his face wearing a robber mask. "Before you waste your life possibly going to prison why are you doing this?" The man points his gun towards Tom's face "Why the fuck you questioning me? Wallet! Now!" His hands begin to shake as Tom looks him in the eye..there's an expression of hesitation in this robber. "You got more coming for you. Don't waste your time stealing from others" The robbers hand continue to shake as Tom stares at him. Greg raises a brow as The robber sighs "Look man I need money for my niece to get a present. I got laid from my job, my wife is angry at me and I don't know what to do" The people who was kneeling looked over at the Robber. Tom grabs the gun from his hand and sighs. "There are better solutions than this" The robber clenches his fists. "I'm not leaving without this stuff!" He throws a punch at Tom and Greg steps Infront of the punch making the robber hit his chest in turn Tom punches the Robber knocking him out as Greg feels his own chest.

"You did good Tom" Greg hugs Tom and the young man smiles. For the first time ever he got praised by Greg. The police soon came and unmasked the man and Tom sighs "I'm sorry I laid you off. Soon your out you can come work for me again" The police drives the robber off. And Tom and Greg drives back towards the Davenport household. The two men chuckle as they enter the festive home, Suddenly there was two hands on Tom's shoulders as he turns around seeing a blond haired woman with gothic make up.

"Tom you haven't met my little sister Selina" Tom smiles shaking her hand. "Hey Selina I'm Tom Becca's boyfriend"

Selina giggles and hugs the guy and Becca "nice to meet you dear"

Everyone sang Christmas songs and Dinner began They all sat down at the dinner table eating food.

"Daddy can you pass the Mac and cheese?" Becca asks.

Both Tom and Greg reach for the Mac and cheese.

"Um what you doin boy?" Greg asks gripping the plate.

"She asked for the Mac and cheese so I'm giving it to her" Tom smiles. Greg raises a brow and pulls the food to him "She said for me to do it" Tom pulls the plate towards him and smirks "no see she says daddy so that's me". Greg and Tom continue pulling the plate of mac and cheese away from each other and Becca blushes covering her face and rose giggles while Selina watches in amusement. "Let go boy!" Greg yells. "No way old man!"

The night was a fun one.

[maxyoyohome]

Why MAXYOYO Floor Futons Are Perfect for Small Spaces

As modern living spaces continue to shrink, finding practical, space-saving furniture has become a necessity. Whether you live in a small apartment, a college dorm, or a multi-functional home, choosing the right bed can make a significant difference in how you utilize your space. MAXYOYO Floor Futons offer a versatile and stylish solution that provides comfort without compromising on functionality.

A Space-Saving Alternative to Traditional Beds

One of the biggest advantages of a floor futon is its compact and foldable design. Unlike traditional beds that take up permanent space, a MAXYOYO futon can be easily rolled up and stored when not in use. This makes it ideal for those who need flexibility in their living arrangements, whether it’s transforming a bedroom into a workspace during the day or accommodating overnight guests in a small home.

Comfort and Versatility in One

Many people assume that a floor futon lacks the comfort of a standard mattress, but MAXYOYO futons are designed with high-quality materials that provide both softness and support. Made with multiple layers of high-density foam and microfiber filling, these futons adapt to the body’s natural curves, offering a relaxing sleeping surface. They also serve multiple functions beyond sleeping. A futon can be used as a lounge for reading, a play mat for children, or even a yoga mat for meditation and exercise. This versatility makes it an excellent choice for anyone looking to maximize their space.

An Affordable and Practical Investment

Traditional beds can be costly, not only because of the mattress itself but also due to the additional expense of a bed frame, box spring, and other accessories. MAXYOYO futon mattresses provide a more budget-friendly alternative while still maintaining quality and durability. Their easy maintenance and long lifespan ensure that you get great value for your money.

Easy to Move and Store

For those who frequently relocate or enjoy rearranging their living space, a floor futon is a convenient option. Unlike bulky mattresses and bed frames, futons are lightweight and portable, making them easy to transport from one place to another. This feature is particularly useful for renters, students, and people living in temporary housing situations.

Blending Comfort with Aesthetic Appeal

In addition to their functional benefits, MAXYOYO floor futons come in a variety of colors and designs to match different interior styles. Whether you prefer a minimalist look or a cozy, bohemian aesthetic, there’s a futon that fits your decor. The ability to customize the look of your bedroom or living area without being restricted by a heavy bed frame adds to the overall appeal of this sleeping solution.

Ideal for Multi-Purpose Rooms

Many people today use their bedrooms for more than just sleeping. Whether it doubles as a home office, workout space, or entertainment area, having a futon allows you to use the space in different ways throughout the day. By rolling up the futon in the morning, you create more floor space for other activities, making your home feel less cluttered and more functional.

Upgrade Your Living Space with a MAXYOYO Floor Futon

MAXYOYO floor futon mattresses are designed for those who value comfort, flexibility, and smart use of space. Whether you’re looking for a full-time sleeping solution or an extra bed for guests, a futon is a practical choice that adapts to your lifestyle. With easy storage, affordability, and a variety of design options, it’s no surprise that more and more people are turning to futons as an alternative to traditional beds.

Explore the MAXYOYO floor futon mattresscollection today and transform the way you use your space.