#i live in awe of authors who can write even one book. let alone this many that are THIS good

[titsthedamnseason]

tell me why i was minding my own business and having a fun time watching this tiktok about the cosmere and then this guy drops that all these books im reading are ONLY THE FIRST HALF? AND THERE ARE ALLEGEDLY ~20 MORE BOOKS TO COME? IS THIS TRUE?

[zombie-bait]

The Death of a Vampire

Lestat as a protagonist just works so incredibly well and a very significant aspect of that is him being Anne Rice's self-insert. Lived experience can be critical when it comes to writing a good story and many memorable novels will feature elements of that. Anne is built different, though. Lestat (book 2 onwards) is basically Anne's journal for dealing with her grievances and trauma, which, on its own, is a very questionable method of writing. More often than not, it causes him to be characterized inconsistently between books because Anne's own opinions have changed. But it also makes him so real.

You follow his struggles with religion, you see him yearn for forgiveness from a god that has seemingly abandoned him a long time ago and you feel it. The passage I will never get over is in the early chapters of The Vampire Lestat, when Lestat has a breakdown over his mother's (and frankly his own) mortality. He struggles and he cries and he can't get out of bed because there's nothing he can do. Eventually he starts to live again, forces himself to.

But.

"I wandered into the church and on my knees I leaned against the wall and I looked at the ancient statues and I felt the same gratitude looking at the finely carved fingers and the noses and the ears and the expressions on their faces and the deep folds in their garments, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. At least we had these beautiful things, I said. Such goodness. But nothing natural seemed beautiful to me now! The very sight of a great tree standing alone in a field could make me tremble and cry out. Fill the orchard with music. And let me tell you a little secret. It never did pass, really."

I think about those last two sentences a lot. I think about them even more since Anne Rice passed away.

Every page of Interview is spent talking about death and yet (imo) it's only in TVL that you really feel it. Louis in book 1 welcomes death quite readily because, besides his toxic boyfriend and their traumatized daughter, he doesn't have much to live for. He's basically given up by the time Lestat appears. The greatest torture, to Louis, is the knowledge that he can live forever on the suffering of others.

But Lestat is the complete opposite. He wants to listen to music, to explore Paris, to perform on any stage that will take him, to embrace the man he loves and to send his ailing mother letters of his accomplishments. Death matters most to those who are desperate to live and god is he desperate. He's haunted by his mother's sickness, by the wolves on the mountain that threaten to end his life before he's even lived it, the witches place that reeks of meaningless suffering. And in a way, the dark gift provides opportunity to escape that. But it is still death. It takes away Nicki in a very literal way and takes away his mother in a more personal one. Magnus, like death, chose Lestat arbitrarily. He sees the cellar of blonde corpses and knows that he was only one of dozens to meet an untimely death with no explanation.

Lestat also really wants you to know that he is, truly, a good person. He must be. He swears to only hunt criminals and then goes back on that two pages later. He reshapes stories to present himself as the noble protagonist and the audience has no choice but to believe him. He wants, desperately, to be loved for all that he is, man and monster. He wants to be the hero.

He's this awful, fascinating, very human man so clearly born out of the internal struggle to find meaning and love in a cruel, unpredictable world we all tend to share. He's made up of incredibly basic and powerful human desires hidden behind a mask of bravado and I can't recalling seeing another protagonist like him.

(Quick mention: This isn't some kind of "wow Anne Rice is an incredible author who can do no wrong" piece. She's written a lot of fucked up and bad shit that cannot be easily brushed over. But I don't think I'll ever get over reading TVL for the first time. To read someone bare their soul in such a way creates a truly unique experience. A lot of characters in a lot of pieces of media face death, but it's rare to see a character face mortality in such a personal way.)

(Also odds are I've written similar posts to this before but shhhhh these sad gay vampires are all I have)

[taranida]

The first (probably? maybe?) book Alan Wake forgot he had written

Always, Alan, always.

Alright, in my last post I left a few questions unanswered and I want to clear them up one by one. I honestly didn’t believe that so many people would read the theory, and am very grateful for the attention it has received. This whole blog was created to write down everything my brain (and my dear fellow theorist J) cooked up after playing and replaying AW, AWAN, Control and AWII, and I would like to sort it all by writing about each point in details. It helps to make it make sense and notice the holes.

Now, let’s cut to the chase. The first point I mentioned last time was:

in the guide for the first game we can read excerpts from the book “Taken by the Dark Presence” found in a shoebox that has no author, but has initials of T.Z. and J.Z. on some pages, apparently written in the late 1960’s. And, oh boy, I have lots of questions for this one!

I will lay out what I’ve found and then my thoughts about it, and also how it all ties to “who wrote what”, because the buzzing question of “who wrote whom”is not something I’m interested in exploring atm. At least not until I will deal with the whole “Thomas ‘Tom’ Zane” mystery.

So, the book from the shoebox titled “Taken by the Dark Presence”. It’s filled with tips and tricks about enemies that we encounter on Alan’s journey and how to deal with them. Obviously, there is a lot of info, but I’ve chosen bits that are important for my purposes. Here are those excerpts from it:

It is stated, as you can see, in the introduction to this section of the guide, that focuses on fighting the Taken and Poltergeists, that the information is drawn from the book of an unknown writer, who composed it in the late 1960, with a little hint of initials and a huge hint of the POV being Thomas Zane’s: “corporeal form is my Barbara. My dear, sweet love.”

It does go against my theory of Thomas spending a week with Barbara-the-Dark-Presence in the cabin, not going outside to face Taken; after all, the info there is a text book of “tell me it was written by Thomas Zane without telling it”. If not for mentioning the Dark Presence wearing Barbara’s skin, it would be fine on that account; we have strong evidence that Taken were lurking around even before Thomas wrote his piece to bring Barbara back. Yes, Robert “The Colonel” Hambleton’s article will be repeated here:

And the end result of the poor writer’s visit:

All point to Thomas actually being in the midst of fighting and fleeing, although I cannot even start guessing for what and from what, I will again stress out two pieces of information that point to the Dark Presence playing the role of the loving Barbara, as it was written by Thomas:

And Cynthia’s words:

“The witch looked like her, but it wasn’t. Barbara was sweet. He didn’t understand until it was too late. He tried to undo it, wrote himself, her, everything he’d ever written out of the world.”

Thomas, as we can guess, didn’t understand who hid behind Barbara’s face for some time, and, when he did, was free to tie her, carve her heart out and write this secret poem, mentioned in “This House of Dreams”, that allowed him to escape, giving up his body to the Bright Presence, and drag the real Barbara’s essence (soul, spirit) with what was left of him into a safe heaven, their personal paradise. So, why would he run into the forest and fight bulldozers and Taken?

He didn’t. There is one little thing that makes this book’s author surely not Thomas — the flashbangs. I’m in no way a weapon enthusiast, let alone, specialist, but I’m alright with search engines. As far as the history of this particular grenade goes, it was invented by the British Army in the late 70s and adopted by the US some years later. Thomas Zane, who lived only till 1970, couldn’t have knowledge, let alone, this very item on his hands at the time. Yet it’s clearly stated in the book: “flashbang attacks if possible” and “coax numerous enemies around you, and then drop a flashbang”. In the first game even Alan is surprised to find this weapon not in the police cars:

And he lives in 2010, when flashbangs are already a known weapon, although, as I understand are not so easily obtained by civilians (if not at all; I’m not from US and can rely only on the info from the internet). It seems as if this particular bunch of flashbang-nades was placed there by some otherworldly means.

Taking all that, my belief is that “Taken by the Dark Presence” is a book written into reality by Alan — to help him on his journey — after he decided to make himself a protagonist in the story the Dark Presence was forcing him to write. Through the “Writer in the Cabin” TV’s we see how he slowly changes his stance on his “editor”, how he realises that something is wrong and he must change the story, giving himself the best chance to survive to save Alice (and not to plunge the world into eternal darkness preferably). That will also explain the J.Z. initials on the pages of the book: Alan, during that week, was not thinking clearly and could just mess names up.

As a side note, I’m extremely new to tumblr and have no idea how people here get into conversations, for me the comment section is the way to go, but I see rebloggs with tags or ideas I would love to discuss and have no clue what to do with them. I would highly appreciate if anyone who wants to add something or chat about a post to make themselves known in the comments as well. Or a message; both are great.

[lyxthen]

So I kinda was struck by inspiration thanks to this post and I ended up writing it in like, an hour? It's not revised or anything so be ready for awful grammar and typos etc etc but I could not stop myself.

Have fun with this short fic (?)

The first time it happened it was a joke. 

He was chiding Maya from stealing a candy bar from the convenience store as they walked back to their shared apartment. She was not listening, of course, too busy chewing on her sweet loot to mind his words. 

“There's no fixing you, is there?”

“Nope,” she said, crumpling the wrapper in her fist and putting it in her pocket. At least she had the decency not to litter. “What are you gonna do about it? Ground me?”

“You know, I might as well. I'm taking away your ramen privileges.”

Maya snorted. 

“Yeah, okay dad.”

“So you're admitting I have authority over you?”

“Hey man, don't let it get to your head. You don't have the heart to deny me anything, anyway.”

She was right, of course, but he wasn't going to be the one to tell her that. 

-.-.-.-.-

The second time it happened it was an accident, but it wasn't too surprising. After all, he could vividly remember that one time he had accidentally called his grade school teacher ‘mom’ in front of the whole class. Everyone made fun of him for that the week that followed, and only Miles had the decency to stop himself from chuckling every time it came up.

Children slipped up like that sometimes. It was normal.

“Dad!”

Maya and Pearls had just gotten back from spending their weekend in Kurain, as they often did. The little girl threw herself into her arms while her cousin cackled. “You did not just call Nick dad.”

Pearls turned around, blushing. “Sorry! I'm sorry, Mr. Nick.” 

He patted her back sympathetically.

“It's fine, Pearls. Happens to the best of us.”

It did not slip past him that Pearl did not have a father, and if she had decided, however subconsciously, that he would be the one to fill that role, who was Phoenix to contradict her? 

-.-.-.-.-

The third time it made him cry. 

To be fair, he was already crying before it happened. The last few weeks had been a lot to deal with. Not only had he lost his job, the thing he had dedicated his life to doing, he had also become the adoptive father of a very traumatized eight year old child. She was still getting used to this new state of affairs, acting shy around him, even though she was clearly happy to be a part of his small family now. 

They had finished with dinner, and Phoenix had gone to his room to sleep after putting Trucy to bed. Despite his best efforts, however, his mind was set on keeping him awake and miserable. 

That's when he heard the door opening. 

“Are you alright?” the girl asked shyly and worriedly, crawling into his bed as he sobbed. “I heard you…”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered back, feeling ashamed of himself for waking her up. He had to be strong for her, not the other way around.

“It's alright, daddy. I was having a nightmare. Can I stay with you tonight?”

Daddy. He smiled, just faintly.

“Of course you can, Truce. Come ‘ere.”

They passed the night together, curled up against each other like kittens. He wrapped his arms around her, as though that alone could keep her safe from nightmares and all the other evils of the world. 

Maybe his old purpose in life had been shattered, but right then he knew that he would dedicate his heart to her, as long as they lived.

-.-.-.-.-

“Son, I know you love to work, and I am more than happy to pay you overtime, but you need to take a break.”

Apollo looked up from the computer screen with deep bags under his eyes and a confused expression. “I'm not working.”

“Yes you are. Who on earth would willingly spend their time consulting books on…” he squinted a bit, trying to make out the words on the screen. “Right of succession? Are you serious?”

“You never know when it can come in handy. It's fun, I mean, will partition often make a good motive for murder.”

“Apollo. You need to go to sleep.”

“Fine, whatever you say, dad.”

He closed the window on the computer as though he didn't just refer to his boss as his father. Phoenix grinned, unable to hide his amusement. 

“Say that again.”

It took Apollo a few moments to figure it out. He was really tired. When he finally did, he covered his face in embarrassment, groaning. “I will not.”

“Yes you will. I just won myself twenty bucks.”

“You had a bet going on?”

“Yeah, with Edgeworth. He owes me twenty dollars now."

“You had a bet with prosecutor Miles Edgeworth over me calling you dad?”

Apollo looked like he wanted to dig a hole in the ground and lay down to take a very long nap there. Adorable little man. He ruffled his hair, to the boy’s immense annoyance. He would normally have gone on a rant about professionalism in the workplace, but right now his brain was too drowsy to argue against it. 

“Yes we did and I just won.”

“Whatever. I'm going home.”

When Apollo left the office, the first thing he did was to text Trucy. It was pretty late, but she was a whole teenager now, and bedtime had gone from an obligation to a suggestion, at least on the weekends. “You will not believe what just happened.”

-.-.-.-.-

The fifth time, ironically enough, it was not Phoenix the one being called dad. 

“I know that bluffing your way through things is your calling card… But your credibility just called and told me to tell you to ‘put a sock in it.’”

“Yes, daddy…”

Shit. His subordinates would never let him live this one down, would they? Trucy looked at him with a sinister glint in her eyes from the audience. 

Oh yeah. It was all over for him. 

Finally, a fic idea that comes to me that isn’t at least a little fucking sad. Anyway 6 or 7+1 formatted fic of practically every character younger than Phoenix accidentally calling him dad and him very quickly getting used to it.

By the time Apollo and Athena come along, he’s not even phased by it, he was counting down the days until it happened, he had a bet with Trucy and Edgeworth over when it would happen.

[strangestcase]

Ok so in regards to That Awful Fic, You Know The One, I’ve realized that a babified, dumbed down Hyde that doesn’t get to kill not only contradicts Hyde’s characterization in the original Novella, but also his characterization (AND reason for being) in League of Extraordinary Gentlemen -both the comics and the movie-… which is ironic since That Awful Fic is supposed to be a riff of LXG, and the author is currently writing for an LXG AU supposedly written to fix the issues with the comics in which their god-awful, ableist take on Hyde appears to be the one in the League

and this is because:

Hyde being a dangerous, violent murderer is the reason he is in the League in the first place. In the comics, the League is recruited by the British Empire, so there is a certain level of commentary on a story in which the goverment knowingly hires a mutated, cannibalistic version of Jack the Ripper to use as a living weapon. In the movie, the League is a ploy by Moriarty, and Hyde is recruited so that Dorian can spy on him and present Moriarty both with the serum and information about him, so that Hyde’s state can be reversed engineered and used to create super-soldiers. If Hyde isn’t all that dangerous, why is he there?

Hyde being intelligent is an important plot point in both the comics and the movie. In LXG, Hyde is portrayed as he is in the book: governed by animal instinct, yet with the reasoning skills, intellect, and knowledge of an upper-class scientist, because that’s what he is. Without his intelligence, LXG Hyde would absolutely useless- unable to negotiate the terms of his recruitment with the League, unable to put his instincts behind when he needs to think clearly, unable to improvise plans (much quicker than the average human!) if he has to. Sure, the League wants him for his superhuman strength and enhanced senses, but him being much MUCH smarter than he looks is, literally, a key point in his characterization in the LXG franchise. Taking that away is a step down from Moore and Robinson’s scripts, and makes the claim that That One Fic is depicting Hyde “better” than most movies (and particularly the LXG movie) not hold any water (other than being rather ableist, keeping in mind they only do that because Hyde is a “child” in their eyes… my guys he’s over 50).

In a meta sense, Hyde not being evil or dangerous enough, portrayed as a spineless coward (I’d say he is a coward but not a spineless one lmao, it’s literally in the OG book, he has more of a spine than Jekyll could ever dream of) defeats the purpose of Hyde being a character in LXG in the first place. In the comics, he’s the let’s say token evil teammate… though he does share that title with Griffin and to a lesser extent with Nemo (who, despite being the villain of 20k, was right, you know). But in volume 2 Griffin betrays the team and Hyde becomes the sole villain-in-the-good-guys-side. In the movie it’s a bit more extreme since Griffin, due to a copyright dispute with Universal, had to be replaced by a new character, Skinner, who is nowhere near as messed up as book!Griffin or comics!Griffin, with Dorian Gray as the traitor- making Hyde alone in being a villain in a heroic team again. Even then, the point of LXG, at least in the comics, was to spoof the idea of a crossover superhero team like Avengers or the JLA- Moore makes the thesis that putting characters that have very different backgrounds and moral alignments in a goverment-backed contingency team is a recipe for disaster, and the “the Empire has trouble distinguishing its heroes from its monsters” line drives the point home. The British Empire was awful, Moore says, they’d gladly have goddamn Edward Hyde of all people work for them and get his hands dirty for them. I do agree that the comics. Dropped the ball hard on the satire but (gestures) Hyde was awful in them for a reason. You don’t have to like it but the reason is there.

The magic in Hyde’s interaction with the League (in the movie, which I like so so so SO MUCH better than the comics!!) is that he’s upfront about being a monster, and willing to latch on to the team like a lost puppy the INSTANT he notices they begin to see him as the human being with feelings that he is. The other members still have their demons, and I’d say the only character that is 100% a hero in their source material is Mina- Hyde is at least honest about his issues, because he literally can’t hide them- he was made to embody them. I don’t know- stripping Hyde of all the traits that made him a scary, compelling villain in the first place is already bad writing if we’re talking OG book fanfiction, but to put that watered down Hyde (the extreme ableism in his depiction aside) in an LXG inspired writing project is like writing an Avengers comic in which you make Bruce Banner a calm, collected, healthy person that doesn’t know jack shit about radiation, and claim you did “better” at writing him than the 2012 movie because you didn’t like that Hulk wasn’t grey like in the first comic! Hmph!

Anyway rant over

[books-and-catears]

Hi! If requests are open could i request the brothers with a teen MC who's stressed about school?

When they come home they immediately throw themselves to bed, they often have headaches, they become more cold and distant, they often have a hard time submitting homework on time and they're not as lively as they originally were. How would the brothers comfort them?

I'm so fucking tired rn, i know it's the last month (even tho It's more like 15 days) but my teachers are starting a new important project where we have to host an EVENT along with our exam that is coming up in a week. And we're in fucking highschool-

Aw I think I accidentally opened my asks again but I read this and I relate so much to this; I needed this as much as you. Being a student is too hard sometimes. *hugs* Sorry sweetie you must be so exhausted too?

I'll definitely write this. I apologize if it's a bit short but thank you so much for this ask. I'll try and do my best okay?

Exam season has just rolled out in Devildom and Diavolo had recently announced that the Exchange students will not have a reduced syllabus and have to study like the rest of the demons, to get a better understanding of their culture and history. This sudden increase in work hasn't been easy on you.

Lucifer

He notices something off with you when you stop telling him leave his paperwork and get some rest. These days it seems he has to pull you away from your work.

He can see how dull and lifeless your eyes look as you try to politely sit through meals with everyone.

"MC do you have some time to talk?" He asks you one day in the middle of homework. "I'm a little busy Lucifer maybe later. I still have finish three more these essays." Wow how the tables turn.

He was planning to have tea with you, but as you usually leave the tea near him when he's working, he did the same. "Don't worry MC I'll take care of this." He whispers to himself.

You're only a child, why are you being so overworked? This is ridiculous. Immediately takes it up with Diavolo and the authorities at school to make sure you're not given more than you can handle.

Mammon

What do you mean you're not up for movie night? Again? This is the fifth time you've denied him. Mammon starts getting worried about you.

At first he's afraid that maybe you're only mad at him so he asks his brothers who you are spending time with. You are nowhere to be found in any of their rooms.

He reaches your room and finds you curled up in bed, groaning in pain, holding your head. "MC what's wrong?" You manage to squeak out, "Head hurts." It looks really bad from the way you're wincing.

He goes into panic overdrive, going up to Satan and Lucifer, even ringing up Solomon for headache cures. After you get a little better, he found out that it's school stress that's doing this to you.

Godamnit Diavolo! Why would you think it's okay to send a little human to Demon school? They work differently don't they. He will volunteer to do most of your work at school- even though he forgets his own.

Leviathan

Levi was excitedly waiting for you to show up to play his new game. It was the usual routine for you to come back from school, freshen up and then join him gaming four days a week. But you haven't showed up. For the third time this week.

He keeps texting and calling you but don't reply. At first he thinks it's because he's a yucky otaku but then he notices you aren't even getting his messages. So he ventures out of his room and finds you in yours.

You were fast asleep in your uniform, your phone switched off due to low battery, your bed unmade and your bag in a slump on the floor. You look like a game character who got defeated in a fight.

When he hears it is the school stress that is doing this to you, he adamantly hatches a plan. "Levi we have school why anime now?" You ask as he drags you to his room.

"Because you need a energy recharge! So I told Lucifer you'll be staying with me all day and watch your favourite anime." Levi said, handing you a bunch of snacks.

Satan

This is the ninth day in a row you had fallen asleep in the library. Yes Satan was counting. Everytime he finds you, you're curled up in a chair with a heavy bookon your lap and your notebook and pens strewn across a nearby table. Overdue assignments.

"Oh MC again?" He mutters as he puts his jacket on you so you don't get cold. When was the last time you read a book with him? You seem so busy and distant these days. He noticed the way you kept denying all his brothers hence he didn't approach you himself. Now he understood why.

Diavolo must be barking mad in his head if he thinks an adolescent human can work the same way as age old demons. He feels annoyed at how you're being overwhelmed.

You wake up to him sitting next to you, writing down your assignments. "Satan why..." Satan smiles and palms your head, "You need to rest, you've been working too hard. I'll handle the assignments, you sleep some more, I'm taking you to a cat cafe later. Playing with cats will help you feel relaxed."

Asmodeus

Asmo notices the redness in your sunken eyes on the very next day after you pull an all-nighter. He offers you to come to his room but you decline saying you have to prepare for upcoming exams.

He finds it increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut and leave you alone when you look like this. Your skin is breaking out, your cheeks are sinking. You're starting to look like Lucifer.

Look at how school is ruining you! You are only a baby and yet you're starting look a workaholic corporate worker.

One day he's had enough with your lack of self-care and he drags you to his room. You try telling him off "Asmo I have exams-" He snaps back at you angrily, "Today is your day off whether you like it or not. I will not have you mistreating yourself like this. Now come on we're doing a home spa."

Beelzebub

Everything seems wrong. You aren't eating well. And today you look like you're about to pass out while eating dinner. He can't eat when you're like this - he doesn't want your leftovers anymore.

You try to smile at him, "I'm okay Beel. I'm just not very hungry." He isn't buying it but you leave so suddenly he couldn't say anything. You seemed to brush people off and be on your own these days.

He noticed you skip the lunchline at school to scurry off to a lonely table to finish up some work. He gets an extra plateful of food and sets it down next to you.

"Beel I said I'm not hungry." You try to say but Beel is having none of it. He snatches your stuff away. "School can wait, you need nourishments to work. I won't let you work before you eat all of this, MC."

Belphegor

This is heavily annoying to him. He sees you running out of your room, sneaking into the library to study at 3 AM in the night. Did you just wake up and decide not to sleep ever again?

When he tries to approach you about this, you act snappy and cold towards him. He doesn't mind - he understands why you're like this. He's grumpy half the time when he doesn't get to sleep either.

As if he needed more reason to resent Diavolo. Not only did he drag you down from Earth and now's he overworking you in school. Is this supposed to help somehow? Cause the only thing this has done is reduce the smiley chirpy MC to Lucifer version 2.0

One day he sees fall head first onto the floor as you try to flee your room. You stumble and shake as you try to get up again. "Okay that's it. Enough of this." Belphie appears and takes you back to your room, throwing you on the bed. "Belphie I'm fine I just need to finish-"

"You need to finish your sleep. I thought humans had better self-preservation than this. You will not get out of bed until you've caught up on your sleep" He tucks you in bed and stays there until you fall fast asleep.

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter four // three days on drunken sin

summary: bucky decides to rifle through those boxes and finds the will to make the first move.

warnings: food/eating, nothing too bad this time!

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: how are we feeling about this week’s episode?? we’re getting closer to the start of tfatws with this chapter!! hope i don’t break your heart too much with the boxes :)

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The boxes taunted him for three days.

Three stacks of two boxes each cluttered his entranceway, each with that familiar scrawl of Steve’s God-awful handwriting.

‘BUCKY’

All caps, in black Sharpie, underlined three times just for good measure. Steve was always good at getting his message across.

He didn’t want to know what was in them, he told himself. But Steve was gone, and this was all he had left. These, that stupid notebook he still hadn’t found the will to write in, and the shield that was kicking around Sam’s apartment somewhere.

He wanted to toss them in his building’s dumpster, to push these aside like he did with everything else in his life. Out of sight, out of mind. That week, he didn’t tell his therapist about the boxes, or Sam’s unexpected visit, or his neighbor that he was now avoiding like the plague. Thankfully, she chalked his silence up to Steve and tried to fill in the conversational lulls with suggestions of amends and lists and he just wanted to go back to sleep.

Like always, sleep never came.

He knew the single night in his bed was a fluke, but he kept trying at least. He’d untuck his flat sheet from under hit mattress, fluff his pillow, and tuck himself in. Within five minutes, he was back on the hardwood floor of his living room, the lamplights illuminating his window and casting a perfect shadow on those stupid boxes. Finally, on the third night, he huffed a sigh and sat up, his arm whirring at the sudden movement. He wasn’t accomplishing anything letting them sit and gather dust.

Bucky reached under the cushions of his couch, fishing for the knife he had stashed away and got to work slicing through the clear packing tape securing each one.

The first five boxes were files. Mission reports, everything Steve could get his hands on about The Winter Soldier. The translations were rough, the descriptions weren’t as vivid as he remembered them now, and it wasn’t even close to everything. Why Steve kept them when Bucky was working to erase every trace of this from the universe, he would never understand. Steve was sentimental, even with the bad stuff. Bucky glanced over the files scattered across his entranceway, which maybe amounted to a year of his missions. If Zemo had looked in some suburb in upstate New York, he would have found everything he needed.

The dumpster behind his building was starting to feel more and more enticing.

The last box felt different. Significantly lighter and smaller, the items rolling and clanking as he dragged it towards him. He braced himself for more files, more reminders of what he had done as though they didn’t exist in his mind every second of the day.

The first thing he recognized was his mother’s handwriting. ‘Recipes’, scrawled so perfectly on a yellowing label.

The tin box was tinted with age, dented after so many years. He laughed and could remember it tucked away on the top shelf of the cabinet by the fridge, just out of Rebecca’s reach, even when she’d stand on her tiptoes in search of it. His Ma rarely fished it out, other than to let his little sister read over the ingredients with sticky hands as she helped stir pots and peel potatoes. She had them memorized by the time she was a teenager, having transcribed her own mother’s recipes onto these little cards. He was sure Rebecca did, too.

Next was the worn fabric of his Ma’s favorite apron. Yellow embroidered flowers scattered the crimped edge, strings falling loose. He recognized some of the stains, from spaghetti night and cake batter that she let dry on the cloth for too long.

Finally, a worn silver chain was buried at the bottom of the box.

JAMES B BARNES 32557038 T42 A

Of course, Steve with all his connections and know-it-all attitude and ‘I can do this all day’ would find some way to find his dog tags, probably tucked away in some ancient Hydra file. His flesh fingers ran over the indentation of his name, pressed into metal like millions of other boys had, off to fight a war that had nothing to do with them. Everything to lose, nothing to gain.

When he was most alone, settled into muddy trenches with wet socks and a stiff military jacket, he would recite those numbers out into the night sky. He’d map constellations over his head, wondering if it would be his last night and all there would be left of him would be those stupid discs of metal clanking around his neck and the letter tucked away in his jacket breast pocket, addressed to his mother.

His mother was long gone, he knew that. But to a fully conscious James Buchanan Barnes – not the Winter Soldier - he had only seen her a few years ago when he shipped off.

After a moment, he pulled the chain of his dog tags over his head, settling them under his shirt. His ears rung with the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The sound of dragging feet and the jangle of your keychain signaled your return from class.

His family was gone, Steve included. The only people he has left are halfway across the world, or off on some death-defying mission wearing metal bird wings. Except you, who still leaves bags of cookies on his front door mat, despite the silent treatment from his end. His maybe too friendly neighbor who poured over lists of albums for him to find taped to his door in barely legible handwriting when you should have been studying.

His mother’s recipe box was calling his name.

-

The knock on your door startled you from your nap. Well, if you can call dozing off at your desk using a law book as a makeshift pillow a nap. You stalled in your desk chair, eyes bleary as you squinted at your front door, then at the top corner of your computer.

2:36 AM

You nuzzled back into your book, content to chalk it up to your sleep deprived brain making things up.

The second knock was much more insistent and was certainly coming from your door. You rushed out of your chair, sock-clad feet dragging the blanket draped across your shoulders as you shuffled over, the knocking never ceasing. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, peering out your peephole into the dark hallway.

Bucky, with slumped shoulders and a bowed head, trying with all of his might to make himself as small as possible still took up so much of the doorway with his broad shoulders.

You should be mad at him.

You should go to bed, ignore him like he’d been ignoring you for the past few weeks. Like you hadn’t shared late nights and he hadn’t sat in your kitchen, licking your spoons clean or tucked into your couch just to watch you study, a new record playing gently. Your forehead pressed to the door, vile building in your throat as seething words collected on your tongue.

“I know you’re there.” His voice was muffled through the wooden door, feeling so close but sounding so far away. “We should work on you dragging your feet, doll.”

If you had taken another peek, you would have seen him pressing his forehead to the other side.

“You ignored me, Bucky.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, even through the door. “Some family stuff came up. But it’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

It’s so stupid, letting yourself get so attached to the first guy to bat his eyelashes and read to you. It’s idiotic to want him to seep into your days and nights, to never leave like he had left you, after only knowing each other for a month.

It’s so foolish to open the door. But you do it anyways.

He swallows as he stands straight, and the widening of his eyes tells you that he wasn’t expecting you to give him a second chance.

“I, uh, here. Thought I’d finally return the favor.”” Bucky shoves forward a plate of cookies, misshapen and unevenly cooked. His eyes finally found yours. “My mom’s recipe.”

Family stuff, you remembered. The weight of the plate felt heavy in your hands, almost as heavy as his gaze on you as you lifted one of the lesser burnt cookies to your mouth and took a timid bite.

Bucky, you’ve come to learn, gives his love in silent acts of approval. He shines when you tell him his singing isn’t totally awful or that he makes a great sous chef, eyes crinkling when you approve of his music choice for the night or compliment the voices he picks when reading from his books. As he watched you, you felt that this cookie meant more to him then just flour and eggs.

He was reaching out, terrified of your rejection.

“You made these?”

“Alright, I’m not totally helpless.”

“They’re amazing, Bucky. Your mom should be proud.”

He returned your smile, knowing that she wouldn’t be. How could she, after all that his hands have done? Hands that should’ve been home, hoisting his sisters onto his shoulders. Hands that should have been helping set the table and at work so they had something to eat in the first place.

He looked so timid in your hallway, unsure of the next move. You rolled your eyes, moving to clear your doorway, despite his hesitation.

“Come on.” You spoke, like ushering in a stray cat with the promise of food and love.

He took the first step forward, shoulder to shoulder, head tilted down to catch your playful gaze with his serious one. Your mouth opened to make some sort of quip to ease the tension, but the words died in your throat as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a second.

His eyes closed as he drew in a single serene breath through his nose.

He was gone as quickly as he had come, moving further into your apartment and directly to your shelves of records, gloved fingers grazing over the sleeves in contemplation for his first choice of the night. As you finally collected yourself enough to close the door, you wondered how many people in the world had ever loved Bucky Barnes enough to give him a second chance.

taglist: @tisthedamninez @wcndamaxcmoff @freyagallileaevans @bibliophilewednesday @justtoreblogfics @teti-menchon0604 @l-adysansa @heart-eyes-horan @thiswasnevermylifefromtony @rexorangecouny @dilfvision @urafakebetch @comphersjost @am-tired-bois @spid3rgwen @beautyandthebleh @euphoricaaaa @inadquacy @mackycat11 @withyoutilltheendofthismess @motherofallthesmallthings @victoriabaker112213 @macrillez @stvalentiness @nova10711 @tailsoflightning @okiegirl24 @qhbr2013 @beachbabe925 @weenersoldierr @venusinart @marvel-mistress @orthellqs @phasma-trash @beni-angie @infinitely-yellow @riverlethe1

[lucy90712]

Being an author (hc)

request: hi! could you write something about reader being an author? tysm :D

~ George:

He really likes reading your work and he is always amazed at your creativity and intelligence which is shown in the way your write. He is literally your biggest fan and will reread all of your work over and over because he loves them and you so much.

If you just write for fun he would definitely encourage you to publish your books and would help you do all of it along with deciding on covers and things which he isn't as good at because of the colours but he is good with designs. When the book is officially available he would promote it as much as he can without telling you because he wants it to go well for you so that you feel confident enough to do more because you are so good and he wants you to feel like you are actually good at writing because sometimes you don't believe you are.

When your books start to do really well he's so excited probably more than you because you are very critical of yourself but he makes sure you know that what you achieved with just your first book. He would also encourage you to publish more so you do because he seems to know what he's on about and think that you can do well doing more. He would also help and support you in leaving your current job to be a full time author which is something you never thought you would do but George is so excited that you get to do something you are good at and love your dream like he does.

As you become more established as an author and people start to recognise your talent he becomes ire and more proud like when you get to do interviews about your new book he's so happy even though he misses you while you are gone.

Dream:

As soon as he read your books he is shocked to start with that one person could write with some much emotion and description. You don't think that what you write is that good but as soon as Clay has read your work that doesn't happen anymore, he is just so in awe of your talent.

Reading the way you write would inspire him with the lore and would ask you if you would like to write about what has happened on the smp. He has such good ideas and with your writing style you create an amazing series of books about the smp from the point of view of the main character in each storyline, to start with they aren't your favourite things you've written until you look back through them and feel like you are in all of the situations.

Clay is so proud of what you did together that with all his connect he gets the series published but he doesn't give himself any credit even though it is definitely deserved I mean the server is his and he was the one who came up with the idea. Despite that he promotes the hell out of it and it does really well with all of the fans loving the way you've written their favourite characters and then on he encourages you to publish more and take advantage of the audience you already have.

From then on Clay encourages you to write as much as you can because you are so good at it and anytime you need a break he will be there to give you something else to think about. If you get writers block he helps you to work through it and get back to your usual creative self.

Sapnap:

Not the biggest reader but he loves reading your books in fact they are the only things he will read and when you don't work on them for a while because you are busy he misses reading which is something he never thought he would say. He encourages you as much as he can and will take on some of the things you have to do if it gives you more time to write.

Would love for you to make a living out of your writing because he thinks that it is the thing that you would enjoy the most especially because you are studying English at college so he would take your work to publishers without you knowing just to see if they agree with him on how good your writing is. Once he gets replies he would surprise you with what the publishers say which has you shocked and really start consider what you can do after finishing college or while still in college.

If you decided to actually publish one if your books Sapnap would be so proud that you are already a published author while still in college. However life becomes a lot more stressful with endless deadlines to meet from college as well as publishers that you almost give up but he keeps you in track and reminds you that soon college will be over and your life will be a lot less stressful. He is the one that keeps you going when things feel overwhelming and encourages you to keep going because you love writing and no matter what it will always make you happy.

Wilbur:

The two of you would work together quite a lot because when Wilbur comes up with a song idea you make it into a story which sometimes helps him write the lyrics or come up with music video ideas. Everything is a collaboration which the both of you love because it makes it easier for the others of you as ideas can bounce off of you both and create something much better than if one of you was alone.

Once he had finished a song he will always get your help with the music video in directing it because you are so good with stories and structuring it correctly. He also has endless praise for you and your ability so will always tell his stream chat when you have been involved on a project even if it's the smallest part he likes to give you credit because it makes more people interested in what you do which is all he wants for you.

Does everything in his power to help you out and promote your things when you will allow him because a lot of the time you don’t let him because you feel bad for his viewers having to hear about all of your projects when they probably don’t care. However you don’t know that the viewers love your stuff and love hearing about what you have been doing mainly because Wilbur gets so excited when talking about what you’ve done.

[empower-bi-women]

Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

That pesky sexual tension 

Summery: Hi! In case you write for Tim Drake, I’d love if you could write a smut in which Tim and the reader have known each other for long and the sexual tension is obvious but none of them ever acted upon it until now. Thank you very much.

Warnings: SMUT so if you’re not 18 begone thot, spanking, teasing, dirty talk, cheesy writing? 

A/N: I tried to be a little more cute with this one so let me know what you think. And to the anon who requested this I’m sorry it took so long I hope you like it! Also this is my first ask!! So sorry if the format is a little strange I’m still trying to figure it out.

Word count: 3041 

“Timothy Drake, I swear to god give me back my book!” you chased him into the kitchen where he ran to the other side of the counter. 

“Why don't you come over here and make me.” He replied with a teasing smile on his face. You lunged forward across the cold counter top to reach for your book. He laughed at your struggle “Come on Y/N you know you never won a fight against me without someone helping you.” 

Shit he had a point you thought, everyone else was out at the store. You gave up, sitting on the counter with you back to him and pouted. Arms crossed looking towards the open door. Laughing he walked over to face you. 

“Aw come on I was just teasing.” he put his arms down on either side of you, trapping you in but you refused to look at him. “Come on look at me,” he leaned down to try and catch your gaze but you just moved your head. “Y/N?” he looked at you with wide eyes before they narrowed, “Y/N look at me.” His voice dropped into that commanding tone he used on patrol. You couldn’t help but look up to meet those blue eyes that bore into yours. The silence in the room was deafening. He leaned in closer and closer until your breath was his. Noses almost brushing. Lips almost touching. He glanced down at your lips. 

The kitchen door burst open causing the two of you to jump apart as the rest of the boys walked in carrying grocery bags, chatting loudly. Dick and Jason froze in the doorway causing Damian to bump into them from behind. 

“Now what do we have here?” Jason asked in a teasing voice. 

“Nothing. Did you get my coffee?” Tim said, his voice back to normal. 

“Did you put it on the list?” Dick asked, shooting you a strange look as you hopped off the counter, “what were you guys doing in here anyway?” 

“Tim took my book right out of my hands so I had to get it back.” You replied.

“Damn I thought you were finally resolving that pesky sexual tension.” Jason said through a mouth full of marshmallows. 

“Jason!” You, Tim, and Dick all yelled out.

“What! This has been going on for way too long. We were all thinking it” He tried to defend himself. 

“We most certainly were not Master Jason,” Alfred came to save the day, “and please refrain from eating all the food before it's even put away.”

He grumbled before putting the bag away. You snached your book away from Tim before walking into the living room to finish reading. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on please Y/N just look it up! It won’t even take five minutes.” Tim pleaded with you, hiding a smile on his face.

“I thought you were the computer wiz, do it yourself.” You replied, not looking at him. He grabbed the back of your chair and spun you to face him. Kneeling down he looked in your eyes. “Please?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer, “for me?” 

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m busy right now, go ask someone else.”

“Ok can you just check this one thing please?” 

“Out!” You spun your chair away from him but he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your head before walking away.  You shook your head trying to clear the thoughts running through your head of the way his forearms flexed as he gripped the chair arms. The way his bright blue eyes looked like they wanted to devour you whole. Ugh this man is going to kill me you thought. 

--------------------------------------------------------

That night you were working comms with Barbara in the cave. Things were going smoothly until Tim called in.

 “Hey Oracle, hey angel, can you guys find out who that guy over there is and what he's doing please and thank you.” Your eyes went wide at the nickname he gave you. You could see Barbara looking at you out of the corner of your eye and heard Jason and Dick laughing though the comms. You ignored them as your fingers flew across the keyboard as facial rec worked its magic. 

“His name is Jimmy Figgis. He’s fresh out of bellrev, he was in for drug dealing and black mail.” You said into the comms.

“Well it would be a shame if he got caught red handed doing a deal. He would go back to jail.” Barbara chimed in. 

“Looks like we got a stake out boys.” Dick said.

“It's ok guys, I can stay for the drop.” Tim said, his voice low as he settled in for the night, “I'll have Y/N to keep me company, right angel?”  

“I mean it's not like I have a choice do I.” 

Not even half an hour later Tim started to get bored. And his target was you. Barbara had to leave to take care of some other stuff so you were alone. Tim decided it would be a good idea to switch frequencies and mess with you. 

“Hey Y/N, have you ever thought about us while touching yourself?” 

You spat out your coffee. “What the fuck Timothy!” You heard his laughter on the other side of the line. 

“Well I'm just asking because I know for a fact that Dick thinks of Babs and Jason thinks of Diana sometimes but he would never admit it. And I got curious. Who do you think of?” 

You could practically hear the smile in his voice. “Wouldn't you like to know. You really should focus on the stake out instead of my masturbation habits.” 

“Aw angel I can almost see you blushing from here. You look adorable.” 

“Shut up Tim.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love hearing you say my name? It sounds so sweet I can almost imagine what you would sound like screaming it underneath me.”

You froze. You and Tim had always had a flirtatious relationship but this was a new level entirely. This was dangerous territory. “Don't start things you can't finish Timothy.” Your voice was low. 

“Oh believe me angel I always finish. And I make sure my partner does too.” 

You threw your head back in frustration. “Focus on the stake out and we can continue this later.”

“Is that a promise?”

Before you could reply Bruce’s voice crackled through the comms “Red Robin we’re coming to you.” 

-------------------------------------------------------------

A few arrests and fight later the bats rolled into the cave. Alfred was on standby with the medical kit but there was no need. You shifted uncomfortably as Tim’s eyes raked over your body, pausing on your legs that were squeezed together, trying and failing to give you relief from the ache in your pussy. He smirked at the site of you waiting for him, all needy. 

“Good job tonight guys. Shower and get some sleep,” Bruce said, taking his cowl off, “I’m looking at you Tim.”

Tim just smiled. You both knew there would be no sleeping tonight. Tim walked over to you, his cowl was off and his dark hair was messy. Fuck he looked good you thought to yourself. The look on his face was calm but you could see something in his eyes. All the years you've known him, you had never seen this look in his eyes. It was dark and lit a fire inside you. 

“Do you still want to do this? Because once we start, I'm not stopping.” his blue eyes stared into yours.

“I believe I have a promise to fulfill.”

He gave you a wicked smile. “I want you upstairs in my room, ten minutes. And no touching yourself.” He tapped your thighs that were pressed together before walking away.

-------------------------------------------------------

Your head was a mess by the time you headed up to Tim’s room. You had bid goodnight to the rest of the boys when your phone chimed. Tim had sent you a picture from the shower. Towel low on his hips showing off his v line, water droplets glistening off his abs, and the way his hand gripped his phone showed off all the muscles and veins in his arms. The wetness between your legs grew with every step towards his room. You knocked on his door, the loud sound of your knuckles against the wood echoed throughout the hallway. 

“Come in.” His voice was muffled by the door. You walked in to find him sitting on a chair across from the bed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants. “Lock the door.” His voice was low and commanding, not unlike that day in the kitchen. That same electric energy that you felt then was in the room, now magnified by 100. 

“I'm going to ask you one more time, are you sure you want this?” 

“Yes Tim I’m sure.” 

“Good girl,” the praise sent shivers down your spine, “Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed.” Your heart was beating out of your chest as you slowly took your shirt off. “I don't recommend teasing me angel, it won't work out well for you.” You just smiled as you turned around, taking your pants off while wiggling your ass tauntingly. You didn’t even hear him move before you felt a sharp pain across your backside. You moaned at the contact. 

“Aw does my little angel like pain?” he questioned mockingly before coming down on you again, “I asked you a question Y/N, I expect and answer.” 

“Yes sir.” You heard him laugh behind you. He wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you up against his warm chest. “Well isn't that a nice surprise. I always knew you had a thing for authority.” His voice was low in your ear. Your head went back to rest on his shoulder as he kissed his way down your neck, sucking and biting the skin there. His movements against your body are slow and calculating. Tim always seemed gentle and calm but the truth is that no one knows how he respresed his emotions, and his needs. But tonight he was going to take whatever he wanted. And you would let him. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” His hands caressed your skin.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“Sorry for what?”

You took a shallow breath. He was really going to make you work tonight. “For teasing you.” 

He turned you around to face him. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He said softly, brushing your hair out of your face, before kissing your lips gently. Looking into his eyes you could never tell what he was thinking. His face was calm and passive. That is until he let go. And you would do whatever it takes to see him lose control. Even if that meant misbehaving. 

“Get on the bed for me angel.” he kissed your forehead before turning his back on you but you didn’t move. He grabbed a red tie from his desk and turned around, his eyes widening at the sight of you still standing there. “Did you not hear me?” He raised his eyebrows at you, “I said, get on the bed. Now.” 

You could see the annoyance in his eyes. He was starting to slip, you wouldn’t stop now. 

“Make me.” 

Those two words lit a fire in him. He picked you up easily and threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced. “I told you not to tease me angel.” He growled as he crawled towards you on the bed. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards him so he was hovering over you, arm placed next to your head. His hot breath hit your face. “You were being so good angel, what happened? Why are you being a brat now.” 

You whimpered at his words. His hand slipped down to your panties and rubbed a finger up and down your slit ever so lightly. 

“Tim please.” You begged him. A sharp smack to your thigh brought you out of your daze. 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” his voice has a dangerous edge to it. His eyes were wild, “that not what you're calling me tonight, is it.” 

“Sir, please! Please touch me, I need it.” You pleaded with him. He rolled his hips into yours, putting pressure where you needed him most. 

“Will you listen to me now?” 

“Yes anything you say.” You replied, needing to feel him closer. 

He moved in to kiss you, stopping just before your lips touched. You moved up trying to close the distance but his hand was quick around your throat, forcing you back down. “I'm going to eat this pretty little pussy,” he murmured, “I want you to stay still and you must ask for permission before you cum. Understood?” 

You nodded, desperate for anything he would give you. He removed his hand from your neck and kissed his way down your body to your soaked panties. His rough hands spread your thighs open, leaving a wet kiss on both before pressing a kiss to your clothed clit. You shifted your hips up, trying desperately to get more stimulation. His arm trapped your hips down. 

“Now angel, what did I tell you about moving?” He moved away from where you needed him most. 

“I’m sorry sir, please I need you.” You looked at him with desperate eyes. 

“All these years I’ve known you, you've always been a tease to me. Whether you knew it or not. I've been waiting for so long for this, I’m going to take my sweet time,” he growled, “you can lay there and shut up, it's my turn to tease you now Y/N.” 

He dove back in and licked a long stripe over your panties. Heat washed over your body as you felt your pussy gush at his actions. He slowly pulled them off your body leaving kisses down your legs. Leaving hickeys on your inner thighs. He ran his tongue over the dark red marks he left behind. Throwing your panties somewhere in his room, he came back to your throbbing core. Running a finger through your wetness he cooed at you. “Oh angel you're just soaking wet for me aren't you? I can't wait to taste this sweet little cunt.” 

He licked up your slit, collecting your juices. He moaned at the taste. His tongue flicked against your clit ever so lightly, giving you some stimulation but not enough. One hand snaked up in between your thighs to play with your cunt. 

You threw your head back at the sensation of his tongue and fingers working their magic on your body. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. You gasped at the sensation, shivers running down your spine. His finger teased your entrance. 

“You’re fucking drenching me sweetheart. You taste so good when you're like this for me.”

“Please sir I need you.”

“Where do you need me angel?” his finger slid all the way in, “right here?” 

Your eyes rolled back as he finally gave you what you wanted. His finger rubbed against your g spot immediately, making soft moans escape your mouth. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes” You whimpered. He smacked your thigh. “What was that?” He said roughly, looking up to meet your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, yes it feels good sir.” 

Satisfied with your answer he slowly pumped his finger in and out of you, rubbing your clit in tight circles with his thumb. Before long you were thrashing on the sheets, hands gripping the pillow above your head. Your stomach fluttering as you neared your climax. 

“Are you a good girl?” Tim questioned.

“Yes sir.” you cried out, “please let me cum, please sir.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to control yourself. Out of nowhere he pulled away, licking his fingers as he watched you kick your legs in frustration. 

“What the FUCK Timothy!” You shouted as he got off the bed and walked to his desk. Laughing to himself he reached into a drawer and pulled out a condom. 

“Gotta be safe right?” He said with a smirk on his face.

You sighed. “I thought you were just going to leave me there.”

“That's only if you’re a bad girl but you've been good for me so far, so good that I’ll give you what you want.” He said sliding into you. He leaned down and kissed your forehead as you both caught your breath. Once you adjusted to him you tapped his shoulder to move. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me angel.” Tim whispered softly in your ear, as he thrust his hips into yours. Finally getting what you needed. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him as close as you could. Your lips met in a heated kiss as the knot in your stomach grew impossibly tighter. His hips snapped into yours at a steady rhythm. Your legs trembled as your orgasm approached at a blinding speed.  

Your hips moved to meet his every thrust.  

“Tim I’m gonna cum.” You said breathlessly 

“Just wait angel one more minute.” The pleasure almost overwhelmed you but the need to be good for him won out. “I want you to cum with me in 3,” your nails clawed down his back, “2,” your eyes fluttered shut, “1.” He growled in your ear. 

Your stomach contracted as your body shook with pleasure. His hips stuttered to a stop but his hand kept rubbing you, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. 

You finally pushed his hand away, the feeling getting to be too much. You both lay there next to each other, catching your breath. 

“So does this mean we’re together?” You asked, your voice small. 

He rolled over to look at you, a big smile on his face. “Definitely.” 

[taleasnewastime]

Flatmates | Part 1

Summary: You need to find a spare room after deciding to move out of your flat that you share with your best friend and her boyfriend. Stumbling upon an advert for a room that seems almost too good to be true, you decide for once to not over think and go for it. But who is the mystery flatmate you are now living with that you hardly see?

Pairing: Hoseok x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst.

Word count: 19.7k

Part 2

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption (though just for fun). 

Authors Note: So, I wrote a thing and it turned out to be very long so I have decided to split it into 2 parts. The second part isn’t currently finished but it is not far off so hopefully won’t take me too much longer. This has taken me a while to write and it’s not perfect by any means, but I like it so whatever. It’s based off the same concept as the book “The Flat Share”. I hope you all enjoy it!

Flicking through the ads for a spare room seemed like second nature to you now. You felt like an expert on the topic. You could easily create a presentation detailing the common mistakes people made when advertising a room, how you could easily spot if something was too good to be true, and when someone was probably a hidden psychopath, just from what they’d written about their spare room. You could probably draw a map of the city and detail the average prices of a room in each area, how fast some rooms went in some areas compared to others and which areas were best to look at. Having lived in the city for two years you felt like you knew it pretty well, but as soon as you started to search for a room to rent you realised how little you actually knew about it.

When you moved to the city it was with your best friend Lily. You had rented a two bedroom flat together and the first few months were amazing, the whole two years were amazing, but after living in the city for just 3 months Lily found a boyfriend. So after he basically moved in with her, and you effectively becoming a live in third wheel, and even though you were the one to find the flat in the first place, you decided you should move out. You didn’t resent Lily for it, and it was your decision to move, but it still made you sad, the end of a chapter in your life. You would still be in the same city and would still see each other all the time but it felt like a new chapter, one where she was getting serious with a guy and where you were still single and sharing a house with someone. It’s almost as if you hadn’t left university.  

Finding a spare room was easier said than done. You had asked around at work whether anyone was looking for a flatmate but everyone was either in a serious relationship or already tied into a contract with other friends. You’d even been desperate enough to ask friends of friends, putting it out on your Facebook that you were looking for someone to live with hadn’t helped, so you turned to looking for spare rooms online.  

Again, this was easier said than done. But you still looked, every day and night refreshing your search in the hopes of finding the perfect room or roommate, not wanting the perfect room to slip through your fingers. You had even looked around a few places, one that was an actual dump, clothes and dirty plates laying around the flat, one that was nice but a bit small and a 40 minute commute to work and one that was almost perfect if not for the fact the other people living there were doing drugs as soon as you walked through the door.  

You had even wondered whether you should just up your search to find a flat of your own, you were on a good wage, you felt like a young semi-successful business woman, why couldn’t you have your own place? Well due to extortionate rent, that’s why. So after considering getting a flat to yourself for approximately 10 minutes it was back to looking at spare rooms.  

Continuing to scroll down a page listing rooms you reach the point where you had already seen all the rooms past that point. You pause and stretch your back, twisting your neck slightly to ease some tension, and reach to take a sip of your drink. You had decided to come to a coffee shop early on a Saturday to do some searching, finding you were way more productive and less likely to get distracted in the public place. And though you had been good so far, that didn’t mean you had found any results. Deciding to refresh the page one more time before giving up for a bit, you set down your cup.  

Scrolling to the top of the page you click refresh and watch as the pictures disappear for a second before popping back. You are shocked to see a new ad, one that wasn’t there a second ago. From the small icon it looked good, the description detailing a rough location and a price that seemed almost too good to be true. Clicking it to expand the details and see more pictures you were shocked at what you were seeing. A spare room in a flat that was probably double the size of where you currently lived, in one of the most sought-after areas in the city, and the price of the room wasn’t through the roof. You read through the details looking for some sort of catch but couldn’t see anything, just a number at the bottom of the page saying to call with queries or interest.

Instinctively you pick up your phone and type in the number given. This was so unlike you, normally someone to not make a quick decision, to mull over everything before acting, but even you could see that this could be something too good to miss. You were willing to risk looking into it more given how long you’d been looking, even if it was just to find out they’d accidentally missed a zero off the end of the rent price. It took 5 rings before someone answered the phone.

“Hello,” a female voice sounded out.  

“Hi I’m Y/N, I’m calling regarding the ad that has been placed on spareroom.com,” you put on your most formal, chipper voice.

“Oh, that was quick,” you can hear the surprise in the voice.

“Yeah, I guess I was just looking at the right time,” you say, not wanting to sound too desperate in admitting that you basically live on that site.

“Well, is there anything you wanted to ask? Any details I missed from the ad?” She asks.

“I was actually hoping I could come and have a look at the room. The pictures and description make it sound great but it would be nice to see it in person,” you reply.

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll have to have a look when it’s free,” she pauses and you can hear the flicking of pages as if she is looking through a diary. “You see it’s not actually my flat, I’m just putting it up for a friend, I guess. It’s kind of complicated actually, but I can talk you through it all when we meet,” her tone and what she says worries you slightly, you knew that there had to be some sort of catch. This was definitely too good to be true. “We could actually go look this afternoon if you’re free?” She says.

“That would be great,” you say. Even though there was some doubt seeping into your mind from what she had said you decided that it was still worth going to look around. The worst that could happen is that it’s awful and whatever complicated situation she was talking about was a deal breaker and then you would continue your search. But this complicated situation might not be that bad and then you may finally have a place to live. It was worth spending some of your Saturday looking around a flat, plus you got to snoop in someone's house which was always a perk.

“OK, I’ll text you the address and a time, I’m guessing this number is ok?” She says.

“Yep, this number is perfect. I look forward to meeting you later,” you say.

“I’m Rosie by the way. Should have introduced myself earlier,” she gives out a small laugh at her words. “Anyway, just come to the address later and tell the doorman you’re meeting me and he’ll point you in the right direction. I’ll put all of this in the text, don’t worry.”

“Great, see you later,” you reply before you both hang up.

Placing the phone down on the table you go over the conversation you just had. A doorman? The place looked fancy from the pictures and you could tell by the address that it was in a good area but a doorman? Maybe this place was out of your league.

Just as you are think this a text comes through and you look at the message.  

Hi Y/N, this is Rosie. It was nice speaking to you and I look forward to meeting you in person. As I said just let the doorman know you are looking for me and he will help you out.

At the end of the text she lists the address and you immediately open a new tab to look into the building. A few news stories pop up with a list of famous people who are rumoured to live in the building, a few pictures of them entering and leaving the building. Next there were a few websites that list the prices of the flats and you suck in a large amount of air, eyes widening at the price. You would never earn that sort of money in your lifetime let alone be able to spend it on a flat. Maybe Rosie was right when she said there was a complicated story behind this spare room. Why the hell was someone, that was obviously rich, listing their spare room for some stranger to live with them?

Looking down at what you were wearing and then at the clock you decide that you have enough time to rush home and change into something that could be classed as a bit nicer than your current attire. Almost slamming your laptop shut, you shove it into your open bag before downing your drink and rushing out of the café.

Your eyes pan up the side of the building, your head falling backwards on your neck so that you can see the top. It was shear glass and you imagine that the views of the city from the upper floors are beautiful. After taking in the building you look down and slowly move towards the door, continuing to question how you managed to find this place advertising a spare room. Glancing down at your phone and then at the fancy plaque by the door, you check for the tenth time that you are at the right place. Confirming the words do in fact match each other you reach for the door only for it to swing open for you, a man in a smart black suit holds the door and looks down at you. There is a small forced smile on his lips and you can see by the look in his eye that you would not want to be on the wrong side of him.

“Can I help you?” He questions, his voice just as stern as his demeanour.  

“Hi,” you almost stutter the words, intimidated by the man. “I’m here for Rosie. I mean Rosie said to meet her here?” Your voice is full of the nerves that are currently swimming around your stomach and you curse yourself for not asking what Rosie’s second name was.  

The small forced smile is replaced by a more genuine smile, the man's eyes softening as he looks at you. “She told me you’d be coming. Come on in,” relief washes over you as the man steps out of your way, holding the door open so you can enter the building.  

Giving him a small smile as you walk past him, you step into the lobby. The ceilings are tall and light floods in through the windows. There are a few sofas scattered for people to sit, some coffee tables with magazines and books on top. A small desk is by the door, some buttons and papers scatter the desk and you assume that is where the man who had just held the door open for you sits. At the far end of the lobby there are some elevator doors and placed around the edge of the room there are large leafed plants. If this was just the entrance to the building what the hell do the flats look like, you think. This room alone was nicer than any other room you had stepped foot in in your life. The doorman steps past you and heads towards the elevator and you slowly follow him.  

“You will be going to the 14th floor. When the doors open there is a small room, almost like a porch and there you will see the front door to the flat. Rosie is already up there so if you knock, she should come meet you,” he gives you the details after having pushed the button to summon the elevator and you nod at his words.  

There is a small ding as the doors open revealing a small mirrored room. Looking to the man for reassurance you step in and say thanks just before the doors close, leaving you on your own. You can feel your heart thump in your chest as you push the number 14. The elevator feels like it's hardly moving as it ascends and you rub your sweaty palms on your trousers as you near your destination.  

Just as the man described, when the doors open there is a small room. Again, a small sofa with some plants welcome you, just as they had in the lobby. Stepping out of the elevator you head to the door and knock hard before you can over think the situation you have found yourself in. It only takes a few seconds but each one feels like an hour before the door opens. A girl stands before you, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, a well fitted black dress on, light make-up on her face. She beams at you as soon as the door is opened and you feel her energy infectious, a smile appearing on your own face as you look at her.  

“Hi, it’s Y/N right?” She says as she extends a hand for you to shake. “I’m Rosie, it’s nice to meet you.”  

“Nice to meet you too,” you say as you shake her hand, nerves slowly dissipating as you do.  

Stepping out of your way and holding the door open, much like the doorman had earlier, Rosie silently invites you into the flat. Taking a step in you slip your shoes off before looking around. The place looked exactly like the photos you had seen, if not slightly better.  

“So I thought I’d give you a quick tour and then we can have a chat and go over a few points,” Rosie says and you nodded.

You silently follow her around the flat, where she shows you the kitchen, a modern open plan space with a big island in the middle where you could sit and eat. A living room with a light grey square sofa that could easily accommodate 20+ people, this faced a TV that covered nearly half the wall. Then you moved onto a hall where you walked past several doors before she opened one that held a large bed and had an attached ensuite. The whole place seemed like it was over the top, there was everything you would find in a normal flat but it seemed to be doubled in size here. Pictures and art lined every room that you went into and the decor looked like it was straight out of a high-end magazine.

Walking around you felt like you didn’t belong here, it was the most amazing place you had ever seen and you were unsure what the catch was. You would never in a million years be able to afford a place like this. When you had seen your could be room, Rosie leads you back towards the living room but carries on past the door to another room. Set up as a snug come library of sorts, it was definitely your favourite room you had seen, it felt the homeliest and the view of the city was amazing, if you really focused you could make out your office and current flat.  

Rosie takes a seat on one of the armchairs and indicates for you to take one of the other seats.  

“So that’s a quick look at the flat. What do you think?” She asks.  

“I mean it’s beautiful. I’m kind of wondering why the rent is so low and why the spare room is being advertised in the first place,” you admit, hoping to get to the point quickly.  

“Yes,” Rosie sighs and looks out the window which makes your heart pick up in slight panic. “Well like I said I don’t actually live here I’m just doing this for a friend. And as you will have also noticed the flat is empty apart from us. Basically, the person who owns the flat, my friend, he is a busy man and doesn’t actually live here that much. He often is travelling on business for long periods of time and when he is in the city he works a lot so even then he is hardly home,” she pauses to gage your reaction which is pure confusion, unsure where this is headed. “Well he doesn’t like the idea of the flat sitting empty all the time. He wants someone to move in and live here, keep it clean, use the appliances so they don’t seize up or anything.”

“So he wants a live-in house sitter. The rent is so low because I’ll be expected to do jobs around the place?” You question, slightly confused by the explanation. Was this guy making the rent so low because he was expecting the person to almost work for him in return. You already had a job, you didn’t need to be coming home to work some more. “Could he not just hire a cleaner to come here every day?”  

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Rosie is quick to reassure you. “He just wants someone to live here. You wouldn’t be expected to do any jobs, if something broke then someone else would come and fix it just like in a normal contract. And a cleaner comes here once a week already, so you would only be expected to keep the place tidy,” she pauses again, obviously searching for the words to explain what she means. “He just wants someone to live here, to enjoy the space, to make it homely, to just appreciate the flat in the ways that he can’t.”  

You remain confused. The person that lived here was obviously rich, they were obviously successful, why would they want someone to invade their space just so that the space is enjoyed. Didn’t they want to enjoy the space themselves without someone lurking around. It didn’t really make any sense to you.  

“You would hardly see him,” Rosie continues seeing the unease on your face. “To be honest you may never meet him, like I said he is hardly here and when he is, he is a pretty private person.”

“That’s what's confusing me,” you admit. “I’m not going to lie, this flat is amazing and beautiful and I have never seen anything like this in my life and I don’t think I will ever be able to afford to live in a place like this. But if I could, I wouldn’t want anyone living here, even if I was hardly here, I’d want it all to myself. And the rent is so ridiculously low for a place this nice, he could be charging through the roof and still have people paying him to stay here,” you have to stop yourself from rambling, remembering that you are still being considered to live here, you didn’t want to blow your chances by saying the wrong thing or convincing them of raising the rent to a figure you couldn’t afford.  

“I think that’s the thing, he doesn’t want just anyone staying here, he wants someone normal. It’s not about the money for him, like you said he has money. Listen, I can’t speak for him about his reasonings for doing this, and to be honest I tried to convince him to not do it, like you said he could get any crazy living here. But I guess that’s my job, to find the best person to live here for him,” Rosie says.  

“And have I passed the checks?” You smile at her, the tension in the room lessening slightly.  

“I’m not sure yet,” she laughs faintly.  

“To be completely open and honest with you, I googled this place when you sent me the address,” she raises an eyebrow at your confession a small smile on her face and you can tell that she was expecting this. “It’s seems like a popular building, lots of well-known people living here. Am I allowed to know who my potential flat mate is?”  

“It’s a very nice building, and like you said lots of very famous people live here, but unfortunately the person who lives here is not one of them. Just some hot-shot business man,” you can tell the speech is rehearsed and you are unsure whether to believe her, but to be honest you are secretly glad it’s not a famous person. And it made sense they weren’t, a famous didn’t need some crazed fan living in their flat.

“Suits me,” you nod at her and you can see relief wash over her face. “To be honest I’m not the sort of person that is into the whole fame thing anyway. I don’t really keep up with the latest gossip or news about what people I don’t know are doing,” you admit, and it was true. Sure you could recognise some famous people and you could pick out certain faces from a line up, but that was just because it was impossible to avoid all celeb news. You honestly had no interest in what a person you didn’t know was doing with their life.  

“You don’t read TMZ and scour the internet over whether Taylor Swift has got a new boyfriend on your weekends?” Rosie says and you can hear the sarcasm in her voice.  

“I didn’t know Justin Bieber was married until last weekend, and I honestly have no idea who he is married to,” you admit and you see the smile on her face widen at your confession. “But then I do know who Leonardo Dicaprio is and I know he is into environmental issues and finally won an Oscar a few years ago,” you say with a shrug giving her an insight into your level of celeb knowledge.  

“But then who doesn’t know that,” she laughs at your statement. “So you may not even know if you bump into a famous person here?”  

“Honestly when I saw the list of names online there was a few a recognised but not many. I’d possibly recognise their face but may not be able to place it,” you say and she hums in response her faced scrunched in thought as she looks at you. You were being honest with her and you hoped she could see that and didn’t think you were saying all of this just to secure the room.  

After that the conversation moves onto some questions about you; where you work, why you are looking for a room, questions about cleanliness and general upkeep, normal questions someone would ask a potential new flatmate. When Rosie finishes her questions you both get up and head to the door, she stands at the door and watches as you call for the lift.  

“Thanks for coming today,” she says.

“Thanks for letting me look around so quickly. It really is a lovely flat,” you reply.

“I’ll be in contact with you to let you know our decision either way, obviously I will have to discuss this with Hobi,” she slips up and reveals the name of the man that lives here. You try to remain passive at the name though you can see the slight panic in her eyes at her mistake, though you honestly don’t recognise the name. “And there are a few other potential people that are going to come have a look around to,” she carries on as if nothing had happened.

“Of course, I don’t expect it to be a quick decision,” you say. “Do you have any idea when I’ll hear by?”  

“I’ll get back to you by the end of next week,” she says.

You nod at her and hear the ding of the elevator from behind you.

“It was nice to meet you. I look forward to hearing from you,” you smile as you back into the elevator.

“You too, Y/N,” Rosie says before the doors close.

As you stare at your reflection in the mirror heading down to the lobby you are a bit in shock. What the hell was that place and who the hell was this Hobi that owned a flat that he hardly lived in? The situation all seemed so strange, something you could never have imagined. As you head down to the lobby you imagine living here, and as amazing as it was you wonder whether it is even somewhere that you’d ever feel comfortable. You feel out of place just stood in the elevator and would probably walk around on egg shells in fear of breaking anything in the flat. It was all in Rosie and the mysterious Hobi’s hands now so there was no point even thinking about it until you heard a reply, you reason as the doors finally open to the lobby.  

“So let me get this straight. Some rich ass man wants you to live in his expensive ass house where you will basically have the place to yourself and all you have to do is make sure the place is tidy?” Lily says.

“I mean, kind of yeah,” you reply.  

After meeting with Rosie you had come home and after changing into some comfier clothes you had collapsed on the sofa and told Lily about your crazy day.  

“When do you move in?” You can hear the excitement in Lilys voice.  

“I’ve already told you, today was just me looking at the place. They need to tell me if they want me first and then I have to decide if I want to live there,” you explain for what feels like the fiftieth time.  

“I’m still not understanding why you would turn down this offer. It sounds too good to be true, an amazing flat that will basically be yours for basically shit all money.”

“That’s the point,” you sigh, your brain slightly aching from all the thoughts that had been running through your head since you left the flat. “It’s too good to be true, there has to be some sort of catch.”

“And what if there isn’t? What if it is exactly how it looks? You over think everything Y/N, please just this once don’t over think it,” Lily pleads.  

“I’ve not even been offered the room yet,” you say, but when you look at Lilys face you give in. “But fine. If they offer me the room, I promise I will not over think it.”

Lily squeals slightly and leans in to give you a tight hug. “I can’t wait to see this amazing flat,” she says into your ear.

You simply roll your eyes at her, unwilling to correct her statement, you may never move in.

Over the next week, however, you can’t get the flat out of your head. You continue to look at possible rooms online, as you still might need to find something, but as you scroll you never really take in anything, nothing living up to what you had already found. By the Tuesday you all but stop looking, deciding that if everything falls through and you don’t get offered the room then you could pick up your search again. A few days off wouldn’t kill you.

But your lack of searching only increases your thoughts of the flat. You remember the details of the city out of the window, it never looking quite as beautiful from where you stood on the ground. You remember the big kitchen, and curse whenever you were in your own and Lily walked in, making it feel cramped. You remember the room that could be yours, the bare walls and how you would decorate them, the big bed you could be sleeping in, the shower that would surely have amazing high pressure that wouldn’t cause the water to be just a trickle. You remember the little snug room that you spoke to Rosie in, the books and CDs that lined the walls and the different comfy chairs that all had contrasting patterns. As much as you tried not to think about it, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

What you also couldn’t get out of your head was this mysterious man. Though you had caught the name when it slipped out of Rosies mouth you decided to respect his privacy and did not look into the name. If he wanted to remain unknown then so be it, as Rosie said you would probably never meet him anyway so it made no difference to you. And although Lily had asked several times you only told her that you didn’t know who owned the flat and that it was just some business man, that is essentially all you knew anyway.

As the week started to draw to a close you became more and more attached to your phone. Any notification or noise that came from it sent your heart racing at the possibility of it being Rosie. Yet none of them were her. As Sunday started to draw to a close you gave up hope entirely. To be honest you had expected to hear by Friday night so the fact it had been two whole days and you still hadn’t heard anything, you had essentially given up hope.

By Monday you were slightly annoyed. After work you opened up your laptop and started to scroll through your frequented websites in search of a possible new room. You were annoyed that Rosie hadn’t even messaged you to say that they weren’t offering you the room. When you had left her she had said that she would let you know either way, yet here you were without a word.

You became slightly grumpy at home too, pushing your bad feelings onto Lily and her boyfriend Eddie. Every time you caught yourself snapping or being moody you would apologise, but Lily understood and didn’t blame you for your behaviour. You were in a complete funk by Tuesday evening, annoyed at yourself now for getting your hopes so high. You should have been realistic and realised that the flat was too good for you. That of course they would offer it to someone else. That you were right from the start, you didn’t belong in a place like that.

As you sit on your bed your phone rings, you didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, head somewhere completely else.

“Hello,” you say. Hearing your own voice sounded weird, it came out flat and devoid of emotion, not your normal self.

“Hi, Y/N? It’s Rosie,” you perk up at the voice and have to pull the phone away from your head to check the number. Sure enough it was Rosie. “Have I caught you at a bad time?”

“No, no, sorry,” you stutter out, coughing slightly to make your voice sound more normal. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting a call.”

“That’s my fault sorry. I said I’d let you know by last week and it’s my fault entirely that I am so late, there’s been a lot going on recently. But again my fault, no excuses,” she says.

“No, it’s OK,” you reply, feeling your bad mood drift away, only to be replaced by nerves. The anticipation of what she was about to tell you made you feel like you were back at school waiting for your exam results, were you going to pass and feel elated or fail and go back to your funk.

“So, as I assume you have guessed, it’s about the room you viewed the other week,” she explains as if you have no clue what is going on. You remain silent letting her fill it with an answer. “So I have spoken to my friend and as I said we did have some other people come and look at the flat, to be honest we had quite a bit of interest,” her words were not filling you with hope and you had to will yourself to sound positive when she lets you down. “But me and my friend both agree that you would be the perfect match and he would like to offer you the room.”

You almost drop the phone at her words. Your mouth pops open in shock, eyes go wide as you stare at the wall in front of you. No words escape your mouth and your brain fails to come up with anything to say. The line stays quiet.

“Obviously if you have found something else in the meantime, we understand. As I said it’s completely my fault for getting back to you so late,” Lily fills the silence.

“No,” you managed to say when there is another pause for you to speak. “I mean yes,” you almost shake your head in an attempt to get your brain to shift into gear. “Sorry. I mean you don’t have to apologise. And yes, I would love to accept the offer,” you are shocked at how calm your voice sounds as you feel anything but calm. 

“Great, that’s amazing, Hobi will be so pleased,” she says the name this time with purpose as you will now be sharing a flat with him. “I’ll have to draw up some paper work which we can go through together, and there will be a few house rules that I should tell you, and I’m sure you will have lots of questions. Otherwise, I think everything is all set up for you to move in.”

“Great,” is the only word you can think to say as already everything seems to be moving at break neck speed.

“I’ll get everything sorted and text you about meeting up so we can go through everything,” Rosie says.

“I look forward to it. Thanks for getting back to me,” you reply.

“I promise I won’t leave it so long this time,” she laughs down the phone.

You both say your goodbyes before you hang up and drop the phone on your bed in front of you. Sitting there for a minute in silence, you stare at the wall, your mind seemingly racing but also unable to have any thoughts. After a second you leap into action, quite literally jumping off the bed. Running out of your room you start to scream Lilys name.

“What is it,” Lily burst opens her bedroom door, popping out into the living room just as violently as you had seconds ago.

“I got the room,” your voice is still loud and sounds out around the room.

“Oh, my, effing, god,” Lily stomps over to where you are stood and engulfs you in her arms. Looking over her shoulder you see Eddies head poke around the door.

“What's all the screaming about?” He says.

“She got the room,” Lily screams your earlier statement, jumping up and down with you still in her arms. You both laugh as you spin around in circles.

“What room did she get?” Eddie questions, still stood in the door way.

“THE room. I told you about this. She got the room,” Lily says, pulling away from you to look at Eddie.

“Oh right, the room,” Eddie says, and you are unsure if he is saying it just to appease the two of you. “Congrats Y/N,” he gives you a smile.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you say. “Hey, shall we pop something open? To celebrate? Me moving out, you guys finally having your own place, lots to celebrate.”

“Hell yes,” Lily replies, already walking over to the fridge to get something to drink.

It had been a mere two weeks since you had the call with Rosie to say that you had the room and in that time you had packed up your belongings, signed the paper work that Rosie had set up for you and gotten the keys to your new flat, well the room within the flat.  

When you had met up with Rosie she had gone over some of the things that your flatmate would be expecting from you. How he expected the flat to remain tidy, he didn’t want to come home to dirty dishes left out or dirty clothes dumped over the flat. He wanted all his things to stay where they were, you weren’t allowed to go into his room or two of the other rooms that Rosie hadn’t shown you on your tour. She gave you details of people to call in the cases of emergency, of people that would come round to the flat such as the cleaner, and let you know the doorman was called Keith and he could help with almost anything. The only number she didn’t give you was that of your new flatmates. She told you that overall Hobi had said to make yourself at home and to treat the place like it was yours. Though after all the rules she had listed you felt like you may struggle to do that.

At the end of your meeting though you signed the documents and she handed over the keys to the flat. She gave you a date that you could move in and said she would meet you there to make sure you settled in and check that you had no final questions. As you left the meeting you felt like the whole thing seemed very formal, it felt like you were buying the flat not renting a room, even when you had rented your flat with Lily you hadn’t had to jump through this many hoops. You had just over a week to pack up all your belonging and move into your new flat.

That’s where you stood now, with Lily and Eddie outside your new building, each with a couple of bags in your hands.

“I kind of thought you guys were joking when you were describing this place,” Eddie says as you all head towards the door.

“I’ve seen pictures and even I thought Y/N was joking,” Lily says.

“I’ve been here, and even I thought I was joking,” you laugh with them.

Keith, the doorman, opens the door for you as you approach and welcomes you in, obviously now informed on the fact you’d be a new resident. Thanking him you make your way to the elevator and after all cramming in with the bags you had, you head up to the flat. You excitedly pull out your new key and twist it in the lock, and sure enough the door swings open. You give a small squeal as it does, it all finally hitting you that this was real.

“This is fucking insane,” Lily says after she dumps the bags she was carrying at the door and starts wondering around the flat. “Like fucking insane,” she emphasises, opening random doors in the kitchen. “Theres actual food in here,” she says.

“It’s almost like someone else lives here,” you say in mock wonder.

“But can you just help yourself?” She asks as she continues to open every door that is within reach.

“I have no idea. Rosie is coming over at some point so I’m sure we can clear all that up,” you reply. “Anyway, stop snooping. I want to give you both a tour.”

You grab her hand and start dragging her around the flat, Eddie diligently following you both around. They are both the perfect people to show around, providing the right sound effects when needed, ooing and ahhing when you open a new door. You end the tour where you had with Rosie, in the snug and you each take a chair.

“I will never stop saying how amazing this place is,” Lily says. “Maybe I should move in and you can stay in the flat with Eddie.”

“Hey,” Eddie mocks offense. “I think I should move here and you two can go back to sharing the flat,” he jokes and you both laugh.

“The one big thing I notice is a lack of pictures,” Lily says and you nod, having noticed the same thing. There were paintings and pictures on the wall but those were art, no personal pictures, no pictures of friends or family or of the man himself. “Do you not think that’s a bit strange?” Lily questions.  

“Maybe he prefers art, I know people who don’t have pictures in their houses,” you defend your new flatmate.  

“Name one,” Lily challenges and when you don’t offer any answers she carries on. “Maybe they’re in those secret rooms that we’re not allowed in.”  

“You mean his bedroom,” you roll your eyes at her. “I wouldn’t want him going in my room when I’m not here,” you reason.  

Lily puts her arms up in defence, doing a fake surrender. “Well the place is amazing,” she moves the conversation on and you’re glad of it.

“It’s pretty sweet,” you reply.  

“I will miss living with you though,” Lily says with a small pout.

“We’ll still see each other all the time though,” you reason with a smile and she gives a reassuring nod.  

Lily and Eddie help you unpack your belongings in your room. You hadn’t bothered to bring any pots and pans or plates as Rosie had said all of that was communal and you were more than welcome to use it. You had also left behind some of items that would be too big to fit in your room, deciding that the flat was fully furnished anyway and the stuff you owned would look cheap. So, it didn’t take the three of you long to unpack.  

As promised Rosie popped round at one point to go through a few final points with you, show you some things she had missed on the original tour and answered any questions you had.  

Eddie and Lily stayed for some food, otherwise they headed home and left you alone in the flat for your first night. The place felt big, bigger than normal, when you were along in it and after clearing up the food you decided to just stay in your room, the living room feeling too intimidating for you on your own.  

It had been a few weeks since you moved into the flat. The first few days you felt like you were tip toeing around, not wanting to touch anything or put anything out of place in fear of getting some sort of telling off. After a couple of days and after seeing no one in the flat you started to care less, it started off small, not putting pots and pans back perfectly, leaving a book on the side, leaving one of your blankets on the sofa. And after no one magically appeared to tell you off, you started to care less and less. Sure, you kept everything tidy and in its place as promised, but you stopped caring about everything being perfect.  

Though you started finally living as if the flat was somewhere you lived and not just somewhere you slept, you did start to feel lonely. Having always lived with someone it felt weird to come home from work and the flat be empty. Weekends when people were busy were hard, having to stay in a flat that was so quiet. You enjoyed being able to speak to someone, to walk out of your room at any moment and be able to just say hi to someone, to ask a basic question, to laugh at a film together, to comment on something that had happened in your day. You had to admit it, you missed actually living with another human being.  

It was late on a Tuesday night, you were tucked up in bed and just about drifting off to sleep when you heard the front door slam close. You jump up in bed and pull the covers tighter around your frame. Your sleepy mind not comprehending what was happening in the moment, you listen for further sounds to confirm your suspicions. Sure enough, someone was in your flat as you hear footsteps sound out along the hall outside your room. It take you far too long to connect the dots and realise that it was your flatmate and not some random person breaking in. Slightly embarrassed at the fact that you had completely forgotten that you don’t actually live alone, you stay sat in bed with your covers wrapped around your frame unsure what to do. Should you go out there and introduce yourself? Should you stay hidden away in your room? Would he even remember that he had a flatmate, or will it have slipped his mind just as it had yours? What if he came in here because he had forgotten too and sees you sat in bed?  

As the thoughts and possible scenarios run through your mind you continue to listen to his movements. You could hear him dragging a suitcase to his room earlier, and now you hear his footsteps making their way back towards the kitchen. Seconds later you hear the distinctive noise of a plate being taken out of the cupboard and placed on the side. He must have got some food from somewhere. Finally, you hear him head towards the living room and briefly hear the TV before the volume is turned down. It’s then that you realise that of course he has remembered you live here, and unlike you he is not being weird about the situation, instead being considerate and trying not to be noisy.  

Laying back down in the bed, you turn and pull your knees into your chest. The adrenaline still pumps through you from the thought of your flatmate being so close. If you were to just open your door to go and get a glass of water you might see him, might finally get to meet the man you had thought so much about. But even that simple act caused nerves to wrack through you. Him coming home this evening was so out of the blue you didn’t feel mentally prepared for a situation in which you meet him. Though you would never know his schedule, the fact you had no way of contacting the man not helping. Instead, you decide that sleep is the best option, chickening out of trying to meet him. It doesn’t come easily but eventually you do fall asleep.  

The next day you wake to your alarm and as you get dressed for work you almost forget that you may not be alone in the flat. Once you open your door and head for the kitchen however it becomes blaringly obvious. Although everything is clean and put away, you can’t help but notice how things have moved. Again, you start to tip toe around the flat, quickly making and eating your breakfast before tidying away. You are unsure if the man is even still here, but if he was you didn’t want to do anything to disturb him. Being ready for work in record time you leave.  

By Thursday night and after having heard the late-night entrance of your flatmate for two consecutive nights you decide to leave him a note. You had made too much pasta for tea, which was a common occurrence, but rather than Tupperware the excess up and store it for a future meal, you decide to plate it. It was a spur of the moment decision and as you look at the two plates in front of you, you wonder what you were doing. What if he didn’t even come home tonight, maybe he’d gone off on another business trip. You stop yourself from over thinking and decide to just go with it, if he wasn’t here then you could just have the pasta yourself tomorrow.  

After eating your meal, you place the spare plate in the fridge and then go in search of something to write on. It doesn’t take you long until you are back in the kitchen with a post-it note in your hand. Now it was time for you to over think everything you could possibly write down. Should you go for, made too much food, left you some. Or maybe, hope you didn’t have too hard a day, food in the fridge. They all sounded personal, as if you knew the guy, which you definitely didn’t. You spend a good 10 minutes thinking of all the things you could say and all of them sounded personal, you decided that there was no way around it so just settled on: There some pasta in the fridge if you want it.

Trying to not back out of it you place the note on the counter in a place that couldn’t be missed if you walked in the room, and then you left the room in a rush, as if you might be caught doing something you shouldn’t be. Watching a film in bed, one ear listening out for your flatmate, you eventually fall asleep without hearing any noise. 

Getting ready for work the next morning and walking into the kitchen you see a note on the side. He must not have come home last night you think as you head over to get rid of the note. As you get closer however you notice that it is not your handwriting on the note. Instead a gentle scrawl is on the page. 

Thanks, it was delicious.

Four words. Yet your heart manages to pick up speed in your chest due to nerves. Opening the fridge, sure enough the pasta you had put in there the night before was gone. A smile comes to your face at the thought of your flatmate enjoying the food you made, and you are glad that you decided to leave the note. 

Over the next week the food cooking and note leaving continue. You still had not seen anything of the man, but you would hear his late night clangs as he came home from work. You started to wonder what it was he did that meant he got home so late. But, although you were unsure, he would still be in bed when you left for work, so maybe he just had a weird shift pattern compared to you. Every morning you would wake and look forward to reading the notes he left you. They started to get longer, as yours had, he started to give you ‘tips’ or requests for how to make it better next time. Things like less spice next time, please and the peanut sauce was great, add more next time! They never failed to bring a smile to your face, and over the week where the exchanges happened you felt your mood picking up, deciding maybe the flat wasn’t so lonely after all.  

It had been two weeks since your first post-it note exchange and as you walk into the kitchen you can't help the smile that comes to your face at the sight of a new note. The smile falters slightly when you read the particularly long note however.

Delicious food, as always, next time you could add some mozzarella to the top? Won’t need food for the next few days, though I will miss it, off on a trip for work. Also, it still feels like I live here alone, where is all your stuff? Please feel free to move anything around or put up your own pictures. “See” you in a few days.

There was so much to take in. Your heart sank slightly when you read that he was going away again, the weekend was coming up and though you hadn’t seen him the previous weekends, part of you hoped that you would bump into him, thinking the weekend was the most likely time for it to happen. He hadn’t said how long he was going away for, just a few days, which could be anything from 2 days to a week. You wish you had a way of contacting him outside of these notes, you wanted to ask when he would be back so you could go back to leaving him food. The thing that really got you though was that he wanted you to add your own stuff to the flat. So far the only item that was yours outside of your room was a stray blanket, and even that wasn’t very you, having chosen the most beige one you could find that would fit with the décor. Pulling out your phone you open your messages with Lily composing a text.  

Y/N: Fancy coming to the flat this weekend to help me decorate?

You get a reply almost instantly.

Lily: I thought you would never ask. I’ll come Saturday with some wine and pyjamas.  

You smile at the text, that’s why you loved Lily, she was never shy and said exactly what she wanted.

“So you still haven’t met him yet?”

You were sat in the flat after having a day of shopping with Lily. Your purchases were still in bags on the floor as you sit in the living room.  

“No,” you confirm.  

“But you’ve spoken over post-it note?” Lilys face scrunches slightly at her words showing how weird she finds the situation you are in.  

“It’s just notes about things around the flat, like if I leave him food or something,” you shrug trying to normalise the situation. “I don’t have any other way of communicating with him.”  

“Maybe you should just ask for his number then.”

“He obviously doesn’t want me to have it or Rosie would have given it me from the start.”

“But now you actually live here and have for just over a month, maybe he’s changed his mind.”

You just shrug at her statement not knowing how to reply.

“Or you could just meet him,” Lily pushes. “You said you hear him come home. You could easily just come out of your room and introduce yourself.”

You regret ever telling Lily any of this, mainly because you know she has a good point. You could easily just walk out of your room and introduce yourself and not make it weird. But you knew yourself and you knew you would make it awkward and uncomfortable, just the thought of doing it brought out a cold sweat.  

“Yeah, not going to happen,” you say.  

“You’re going to meet him one day,” she says. “Why don’t you just do it now, on your own terms rather than when you are least expecting it.”

Again, she had a good point.  

“We’ll see,” you respond as a way to show that you were not going to give in and wanted the conversation to move on.  

“Alright, but when you do eventually meet him, you know I want all the details,” she says.  

“That’s the only reason you want me to meet him isn’t it, so you can finally know what he looks like,” you roll your eyes at her.

“It’s killing me. How is it not killing you? How do you not just want to see what he’s like?” She asks and you can hear the desperation in her voice.  

“You have a boyfriend,” you laugh at her.

“I didn’t say I wanted to get with him,” it was her time to roll her eyes at you. “I don’t care if he’s ugly or the hottest guy on planet earth. Are you not the smallest bit curious what he looks like?”

“He could be some old man for all I know,” you reply, trying to act indifferent, though you agreed with Lily, you were dying to know who you were living with. You had images in your mind of what the guy looked like, and with the lack of pictures around the house, your imagination grew even more, some days picturing some hot business man, other days imagining an older gentleman with a long beard.  

“An old man living in a house like this?” Lily flings her arms around for effect. “No, he’s 30 max.”  

You hum in agreement. “What do you think he does then?” You give in and start to play along with Lily.  

“Some hot shot banker? Or maybe a lawyer,” Lily throws out some guesses.  

“Or a spy?” You do a fake gasp.  

“A spy who lets some random woman come and live with him? I think not,” Lily laughs.  

“He is always travelling. Off chasing all those bad guys,” you laugh along.  

“Humm, living with James Bond? I could be on board with that idea,” she nods, a wide smile on her face.  

“James Bond it is,” you agree, your face mirroring hers.  

“So come on then, how are we changing James’ flat?” She stands up and heads over to the bags of stuff you had bought.  

You both spend the rest of the weekend changing around items in the flat. You don’t go wild and change anything too dramatically, small changes here and there, a few more vibrant coloured cushions on the sofa, some colourful blankets, a few more house plants strategically placed. You added a fruit bowl in the kitchen as well as some more jars on the side full with teas and coffee, a vase that you could fill with flowers on the kitchen island. You did change one piece of art, taking down the piece that you hadn’t liked since you first arrived, a dark colourless abstract painting. You placed it by your flatmates bedroom door so that he could decide what do you with it, placing a note on top of it that just read: you did say I could change things around.  

As promised Lily stayed the night and you were so glad she did, having the best time with her. You drank wine, watched films, talked and decorated the flat. It was the best you had felt in weeks and by the time she left on Sunday you felt like you were more at home. Walking around the flat you were glad that the man had suggested you put your own stamp on the place. Though you were no longer tip toeing around you still had a feeling that you didn’t live here. But now looking around you felt like you finally lived here, like you could relax.  

There were no new notes over the next week, the painting and its note remained outside the mans bedroom, indicating he hadn’t returned. The few days he said he would be away obviously meant longer than the weekend you had assumed. You didn’t mind, with the flat feeling more homely you felt like you relaxed more into the space, spending less time cooped up in your room.  

When you woke up and went to the kitchen each morning your heart would drop when there was no new note however. Though you always wondered why, they were always short thank you’s, maybe the occasional longer note about something in the food he enjoyed or would change, never anything that special. You reasoned that the feelings were just because it made you feel less alone in the flat.

Eventually though the notes returned. Walking into the kitchen one morning you saw the distinctive post-it note lying on the counter top and had to stop yourself from running over to read it. Picking it up you read over the now familiar handwriting.

I’m back. The place looks a lot better. You were right about that painting, I have always hated it and don’t know why I kept it up for so long. Yours looks so much nicer.

The smile that you were suppressing came to your face. Such a simple note with hardly any information, yet it lifted your mood instantly. You were glad that he liked what you had added to the flat. It was his suggestion in the first place, but a small part of you did worry he would change his mind when he saw what you had done. Your style did seem brighter than his, apart from the much-loved snug room which you had not changed at all.

That evening you did as you had been doing whenever you knew your flatmate was home, you cooked extra and plated it up for him, leaving a note to let him know on the side. The days passed like this, you leaving him food, him leaving a thank you note in the morning. The notes started to get longer in length, sometimes you would find notes in other places around the flat. A note on a DVD recommending you watch it, a new colourful cushion with a note on it saying that he thought it would go with the ones you had added, some ingredients in the kitchen with a note asking if you could make a certain dish that evening. You returned the notes, leaving reviews of the films he had suggested, recommending books in the snug, adding your own in the collection that lined the walls, leaving notes on a new plant you bought that detailed the plants name and a fake greeting from said plant.

The post-it notes became an almost scavenger hunt, your heart leaping every time you saw the bright colour from corner of the room. Though you had still never met the man, you feel like you were slowly getting to know him better. Though you could walk past him in the street and not realise it was your flatmate, you knew what foods he liked, his favourite films and that he was prone to over loving plants accidentally killing them.

It was a Tuesday when you woke up early, your body aching all over. Your throat felt like it was on fire, your chest tight. You had felt a bit rubbish the night before but had gone to bed early and thought you’d wake up fine this morning, but as you lay in bed you felt like pure shit. Literally rolling out of bed, you groan as your feet hit the floor. You attempt to head to the kitchen but only make it so far before deciding to go lie down in the living room instead.  

As you lay there, you wonder why you moved from your bed in the first place, it was much comfier there. You attempt to go back to sleep, having a few hours until you needed to get ready for work. This goes out the window fairly quickly as your body feels like it’s on fire, your head pounding, your limbs aching. You hadn’t felt like this in so long and you are unsure what had caused you to become so ill, and for it to get this bad so quickly and out of nowhere.

Getting up again you make it to the kitchen just to down some paracetamol and water before heading back to the sofa. Laying down you flick through Netflix, shoving a random film on in the hopes it would lull you to sleep. Opening your phone you text your manager, apologising for the hour but saying that you didn’t think you’d make it to work. With that you watch the film and it's not long before you drift back into sleep.  

You wake hours later, the film long finished, TV off and a blanket over your body. Your mind struggles to function as you blink at the bright light streaming into the room. Your body still aches and you head continues to pound. Sitting up you catch sight of the cup of water and pills on the coffee table, a distinctive bright post-it note next to it. The temperature you were running at made it near impossible but your face still manages to heat up when you realise what had happened. Shrugging the blanket off, which you now realise you didn’t fall asleep with, you lean over to grab the water and pills, taking those before doing anything else. Taking a deep breath, you pick up the note your flatmate must have left.  

Left you some water and paracetamol, looks like you might need it. Theres soup in the fridge. Don’t worry about cooking tonight.

The note confirms your suspicions that your flatmate must leave for work after you. It also confirms that he must have found you asleep in here this morning and put the blanket over you. Your face remains hot at the thought, not just because you were running a temperature. You’d never met this guy and the first time he sees you is when you feel like crap and are passed out on the sofa.  

The next thing that has your mind racing is the fact that he said not to worry about cooking tonight. Why would you cook in your current state? You had obviously got into the routine of you cooking him dinner, but surely he wouldn’t want to eat anything you made in fear of contagion. He probably just wanted to make it obvious that he wasn’t expecting any food that night.  

You don’t think about it for too much longer, your head starting to not hurt as much, the paracetamol you took earlier slowly kicking in. Putting something random on the TV again, it isn’t long until you fall back asleep.  

Waking up from what felt like a deep sleep, you already feel slightly better, the sleep helping. Without opening your eyes you hear the noise of the TV and are surprised that anything is still playing, it felt like you had been asleep for hours, but maybe it hadn’t been that long and the film you had put on was still playing. Groaning at you aching body, you roll over, eyes still closed as you curl in on yourself. Deciding that you should check the time to see if you could take some more paracetamol or not, you slowly sit up, another groan leaving your lips as you do so.  

“Sorry, did I wake you?” A deep voice speaks out.  

Your eyes bolt open, head shooting towards the voice, you almost forget the pain your body was in as you go rigid with shock. You find the source of the voice. A man was sat on the opposite side of the sofa to you. Concern is written all over his face as he looks you, he is sat with a big oversized sweater on, a top poking out of the bottom, grey jogging bottoms on his legs that are crossed underneath him. He has dark brown hair that is slightly messy and parted to show off his forehead, his dark brown eyes look at you as you remain sitting in shock, you mind not comprehending what’s happening, wondering whether you were in some dream.  

“What time is it?” You ask, your voice coming out croaky and hoarse from your illness and the fact you hadn’t spoken all day.  

A laugh leaves his lips as he looks down at his watch and you notice his perfect white teeth and the way his smile causes his cheeks to squish and small simples to form on his face. “It’s 5.40,” he says, eyes going back to you.  

The statement confuses you even more, if you weren’t ill today you would have just been getting home from work. Something wasn’t adding up in your mind, you had felt like you had slept for a few hours meaning it should be the time the man had stated, but you assumed the man to be your flatmate and yet he was never home at this hour. Maybe he wasn’t your flatmate after all. You put a hand to your head and groan at how much it was pounding.  

“I’ll get you something for that,” the man leaps off the sofa at seeing your distress and almost runs to the kitchen. Reappearing within a few seconds he walks over to you, giving you a pint of water and some tablets, before he sits down on the sofa, closer to you than before.  

You down the tablets and take a few extra gulps of water before looking over at the man, his eyes already watching you. “Sorry, I just feel really crap,” you state the obvious, your voice helping make your point by still sounding hoarse.  

“I found you on the sofa this morning and got a bit worried,” he admits. “Have you had anything to eat today?”  

So, this was your flatmate. Your face heats suddenly at his words, remembering waking up with a blanket over you this morning. Your eyes fall to your lap in embarrassment. “No,” you croak in answer to his question.  

“Are you hungry? I could cook something? Or warm up some soup? Or just order some food?” He fires the questions at you and you bring your eyes back up to him.  

“I’m not really hungry,” you say and you see his face shift to one that looks a bit annoyed.  

“You need to eat something,” he scolds you slightly. “You’ll feel better for it,” he says before pulling his phone out, taping on it. “I’ll order something for both of us, you don’t have to have much, but you’re having something.”  

You watch as he continues to tap on his screen, he doesn’t even bother asking if there is anything you fancy eating, deciding for you. Pulling the blanket tighter around yourself you flop down on the sofa so you’re are lying again. Feeling less nervous around the man, probably due to how ill you felt. You realise that this is the first time you had met and spoken to him in person. This is not how you imagined it happening, you looking like a complete mess, sweating and coughing all over his very expensive sofa. You look over at him from your current position, eyes taking him all in as his eyes are for once on his phone and not you. You had to admit that he looked familiar, you wouldn’t be able to place where you knew him from but you were sure you’d seen him on your TV.  

Putting his phone down, he looks over at you and your face heats at the realisation that he has caught you staring at him. A smile forms on his face as he looks at you.  

“All ordered, it should be here soon,” he says and there is a slight pause before he continues. “I’m Hoseok by the way. I’m assuming you guessed, but I’m your flatmate.”  

Hoseok. Rosie had called him Hobi, but that was obviously a nickname. You give him a small smile before saying your name.  

“I guessed,” he nods at you, his smile widening. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N.”

You hum lowly at him in agreement, your heart pounding slightly in your chest and you’re not sure if it’s due to your illness or the presence of the man currently sat in the room with you.  

“Sorry I look and feel so rubbish, I’m normally more fun than this,” you croak.  

“I think you look perfectly fine,” he shrugs keeping his eyes on you and you have to look away in embarrassment.  

There is a seconds pause before you speak again. “Why are you here anyway?” You ask before realising how rude that must have sounded and continue to clarify your point. “I mean, you’re never normally home at this time. Did you get to leave early today?”  

It was his turn to falter under your gaze, his eyes flicking away from your face and resting on the TV. You see a slight pink creep up his neck.  

“We didn’t have much on this evening and I saw how ill you were this morning that I got a bit worried leaving you here alone,” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, but your heart almost grows in size at the gesture. The man hardly knew you yet he had taken time off work to come and look after you?  

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say feeling slightly bad.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he continues to act as if it is no big deal. “Anyway, it was about time we actually met.”

You hum in agreement, deciding to sit back up again, reaching for your water to take a sip. “I just wish I felt a bit better,” you repeat your earlier statement.  

“Me too,” Hoseok says softly. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I really love what you’ve done with the place. I know I wrote it in a note but I want you to know I really mean it.”

“It’s just a few cushions and plants,” you try to push off his statement.  

“Maybe, but it makes it feel like someone actually lives here. I enjoy coming back here now, rather feeling like I’m living in a hotel.”

“Some hotel,” you mock and he laughs gently. “But it’s seriously nothing. I should be thanking you for letting me stay here and invade your space with my rubbish.”  

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s not rubbish,” he says. “Just take the compliment,” he smiles at you.  

“Ok, thanks,” you give in. “But I do also honestly want to say thanks for letting me live here. It is a very nice place you have here.”  

“Can I be honest with you?” You watch his face shift in emotion again, an almost sadness coming over his features, and you nod at him. “Most of my friends told me that I shouldn’t do this, let someone live here that is. And I nearly listened to them. But I used to come home and just feel like it wasn’t my home. I thought that having someone else actually live here would make it feel lived in and more like a home, and maybe at the start that didn’t quite happen,” he shoots you a look and you know he is referring to how you didn’t put any of your stuff outside the confines of your room. “But that’s why I’m saying thank you for living here and putting your stuff everywhere, because now I enjoy coming home and I feel like I am somewhere that is lived and loved, and that makes me feel nice.”  

Your heart warms at his words. He had said he liked the decorations on a note before and had obviously thanked you enough times. He had even started to buy more decorations for the flat incorporation with things you had added. But you had no idea that it had this much of an effect on him. You smile gently at him.  

“I don’t know, is that weird?” He says into the pause, obviously worried he had gone too far with his words.  

“No, not at all,” you reassure him. “It’s nice to know that you like my additions. But what about the snug? That always been warm and homely?”

“The snug?” His face scrunches in confusion before being overtaken by realisation. “Oh, the snug, I like that,” he smiles at you. “That’s all my sisters doing. I let her loose on that one room when I moved in and I think it’s where I feel most at home. It’s definitely the most me room. Believe it or not I actually like bright colours.”  

He had a sister? You were slowly learning more and more about the man and everything was interesting to you. You wanted to know more, you wanted to know everything.  

“I think it’s my favourite room. She has great taste,” you say.  

“She’ll be happy to know that.”  

“Are the two of you close?”  

“In a way. We get on and I try to talk to her as often as I can. But as you may have noticed, I have a pretty hectic life so it’s hard to see her and my family.”  

If anyone could understand that it was you, you lived with the man and this was the first time you had seen him. You felt sorry for him, he was obviously very successful and had a lot of money, but you could see that it made him sad that he didn’t get to see his family very often. Was money really everything? But then you still had no idea what his job was, maybe it was worth all these sacrifices he seemed to be making.  

Before you can question him anymore a buzz sounds from the door.  

“Must be our food,” he says and you slowly start to rise. “You stay here,” he leaps up, raising a hand in your direction. “I’ll go get it and bring it all through,” he says before leaving you alone in the room.

Pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders you look towards the TV. You felt like you were in some sort of fever dream. You had expected to meet your flatmate at some point, but when you imagined it, it was some awkward meeting in the hall that lasted a few minutes, not what was currently happening. You had felt awkward at times, otherwise the conversation had been easy. You couldn’t remember the last time you had met someone for the first time and were able to talk to them as easily as you just had with Hoseok. Normally you would have been stuttering, especially if they looked as good as he did. You reach for your phone and open up your messages with Lily.

Y/N: I just met James Bond.

You send the message, both of you having called your flatmate James Bond ever since you had the joke about you living with a spy. Needing to tell someone about the encounter you had just had you of course told the only person you could. As normal with Lily you almost instantly got a reply.

Lily: WTF!! What’s he like? Send me a picture! I need details!!

Y/N: I am not going to take a picture of him. And he’s nice.

Lily: I need more than that.

Y/N: Can’t talk now, he’s coming back. Will call soon.

Lily: Why did you even bother telling me, it’s like you’re trying to torture me. Call me tomorrow.

You chuckle slightly at how dramatic she could be before looking up to see Hoseok walk in with arms full of food.

“So I know you said you weren’t that hungry, but I thought you might change your mind when everything got here,” he says, placing the banquet of food on the coffee table. “What do you want?”

“I’m honestly not that hungry,” you say genuinely meaning it, but when you look at him and see his stern face you give in. “Maybe just a bit of something plain? Those noodles look good.”

He gives you a wide smile as he picks up the noodles and hands them to you with some cutlery.

“Thanks,” you say taking it off him. “And you’ll know how much I owe you?”

He ignores your comment, instead picking up the remote and looking to the TV.

“What we watching?” He asks.  

“You know when I said I don’t care if he’s the hottest man on earth, I take it back,” Lilys voice sounds through the phone the next evening.  

You had taken the day off work again, although you felt slightly better you still weren’t 100% and when you called your boss he had said it was fine for you to have another day off. The previous night you had eaten a bit of food and watched a movie with Hoseok before falling asleep on the sofa again. You were awoken to him gently saying your name and rocking your shoulder, telling you to go to your own bed to sleep. The following morning he had knocked on your door to check on how you were, dropping some food and medicine off before explaining that he was heading off to work. You had no idea when you would next see him, and he didn’t let you know when he would next be home. After trying to sleep off your illness for the rest of the day you finally called Lily to give her the details that she was craving.  

“You haven’t even seen him, how are you assuming he is the hottest man on earth?” You laugh.

“Y/N, you just described him, you made him sound like a walking god,” you cringe at her words, you hadn’t realised that you had made him out to be like that, but maybe you inadvertently had.  

“He’s alright I guess,” you attempt to back track.  

“Yeah, whatever,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling down the other end of the phone. “So what did you talk about?”

“Normal stuff,” you shrug. “He was mainly just making sure I wasn’t too ill.”  

“Aww, he sounds like he’s the cutest,” she coos.  

“He was probably just making sure I wasn’t infecting his flat, which would then make him ill,” again you try to downplay it.  

“Will you stop. Just admit he ticks all the boxes. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he looks after you and he’s rich,” she lists off.  

“Sure, but I never see him. I live with the guy and I never see him, surely that is the biggest red flag going,” you reply. “Anyway, it’s not like that. We are flatmates, we met last night and talked like normal flatmates and it was nice.”  

“OK, nothing’s going to happen, sure,” she says. “Maybe he has friends? You could definitely settle for a friend.”

“This is not some dating expedition,” you laugh. “Can’t I just talk to a guy without their being any romance or possible intentions behind it?”  

“You’re right, sorry,” she sighs. Lily always did this, you couldn’t bring up a guys name without her questioning you about him. You know there were only good intentions behind it, she just wanted to see you happy, but as you always told her, you could be happy and also single.  

“It’s alright. It’s just he’s basically my landlord so I don’t want any weirdness there.”

“Yeah, you have a pretty sweet set up there, you wouldn’t want anything ruining that,” she agrees. “I just want you to have the best.”

“And one day I will,” you smile down the phone. “Listen, I think I’m going to have a snack and then probably sleep some more. I should probably try and get back to work tomorrow. I love you and will see you soon.”

“Love you too, hope you feel better tomorrow,” she says before the line goes dead.  

After that one encounter with Hoseok, things went back to normal. You got over your illness and started to go back to work. Hoseok went back to his normal life of coming home at god know what time when you were asleep. You’re paths never crossing, except for the post-it notes, which seemed to almost double in quantity. Handwriting become smaller and more cramped on the notes so that more details could be given.

The notes still remain on fairly mundane topics, never straying into anything to personal. You still had no real idea who the man really was, what he did for a living, where he went every day. But you did have a good idea who the man was in the sense of his likes and dislikes. It didn’t feel like much, but you still enjoyed reading his notes every day. Replying to them with your own thoughts.  

It was a Friday night and you had agreed to go out with some friends. It wasn’t common for you and your friends to go out, preferring quiet nights in. Heading over to Lilys to get ready you had both decided to make a bit of effort, sipping on drinks while you both dance around your old flat and slowly put make-up on.

Getting tipsy before heading to the club wasn’t necessarily your intention but you had both got carried away pre-drinking. By the time you met up with the rest of your friends you were on the right side of tipsy, this however quickly changed. You kept up with your friends, drinking drink for drink, and this was not good for either of you. It had hardly turned 1am as you were both jumping around the dance floor in each other's arms.

“I love you so much Y/N,” Lily slurs into your ear.

“I love you too,” you beam back at her.

A laugh escapes you as Lily takes you in her arms and spins you around. Then a hand is placed on your shoulder stopping the spinning and you look to see who it was.

“Eddie,” you continue to smile as you replace Lily with Eddie, squeezing him in your arms slightly. He had said that he was out with friends and that he would turn up at some point to join you, and then be around to take Lily home, so his appearance wasn’t too much of a shock.

“Hey, he’s mine,” you hear a voice behind you before you are almost ripped from the man, Lily taking your place.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie laughs. “There’s enough of me to go around,” he jokes.

Lily leans up to give him a kiss on the lips, Eddie allowing it until she tries to deepen it, when he pulls away.

“You seem happy to see me,” Eddie looks over to you with an apologetic smile. Lily almost seems to go limp in Eddies arms and he struggles to hold her. Rushing over you help him lift her up, looking up at him a bit concerned at the sudden change in her state. You thought that the two of you were on the same level, but you were obviously handling your drink a lot better than she was. While she seemed to be past drunk, you were on the perfect level still coherent to remember everything but drunk enough to not care about anything.

“Let’s go get some air?” Eddie suggests, already starting to drag Lily and therefore you outside.

“I’ll get some water,” you suggest. “I’ll see you outside.”

Rushing over to the bar, you ask for three glass of water and when they’re handed over you head outside to look for your friends. What you see is not pretty. Lily is hunched in a corner, Eddie stood over her with his hand on her back. You feel like you sober up slightly at the sight.

“Here, drink some of this,” you hand Eddie one of the cups to try and he tries get Lily to drink some. “God I’m so sorry, I should have got her to slow down,” you say.

“It’s alright, she’s alright. It’s no one's fault,” Eddie is now having to reassure you and Lily. “You just had a bit too much to drink didn’t you love,” Eddie continues to stroke Lilys back.

You down some of the water that you had got for yourself, your brain spinning at bit due to the alcohol.

“I think we should head home,” Eddie looks up at you.

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Do you want me to come with you?” You ask.  

“No, we’ll be OK, you stay and have fun,” he replies.

You nod at him, but now feel distinctively not in the mood to party. Lily was the main reason that you had come tonight anyway and as she was heading home you saw no need to stay.

“Home sounds good actually, I think I might do the same,” you say to Eddie.  

“Alright, come on, I’ll call you a cab,” Eddie hauls Lily into his arms and helps you both over to the street to go home.

With Eddie calling you a cab it takes no time for you to get to the entrance of your building. You stumble slightly towards the door, and nearly fall on your face as you go to open the door but it opens before you get there. A hand comes out to help you before you fall though.

“Oh, hi Keith,” you smile at the doorman.

“Hi, Y/N,” he smiles down at you, his hand still helping to support you. “Good night?”

“It was great thanks. I just had a few drinks,” you say though you know you both know that is an understatement.

“I’m glad you had a good time,” Keith says as you both make your way over to the elevator, you still clinging to his arm for support. He calls for the elevator and you stand and wait, your head resting on his upper arm as you close your eyes and give a content hum. Over the time that you had been living in the flat you had grown to love Keith. He always seemed to be there and had helped you out many a sticky situation. Whenever you had time you would stop and talk to him about your day, and you had learnt so much about him in the process. But you know when you sober up and think back to this current moment part of you will die of embarrassment.

“I hope you have had a nice night too,” you pout up at him, always saying that he worked too hard.

“It’s been made ten times better now that I have seen you,” he jokes and you laugh at him.

“Always making me blush,” you say as the elevator arrives and you walk into it. “Hopefully see you soon,” you point a finger at him and smile.

He laughs at your drunken state and nods his head. “I’m always here,” he says as the doors close on him.

You have to take a breath to steady yourself as the elevator rises. Fishing in your bag you go on the hunt for your keys as the doors open. You decide to take one of the seats to stop yourself from wobbling around, helping you find your keys quicker. Once you have them you stand up and move towards the door. A hand on the door frame you jab the key at the key hole, missing a few times before you finally get it in the lock and open the door.  

Stumbling into the house you close the door and wince at how loud you were being, only now conscious of the fact you probably weren’t home alone and it was very late. You haphazardly kick off your shoes, and wince again when they make a loud noise when hitting the wall. In your drunken state you continue to the kitchen and stumble around in search of a glass, filling it up with water when you finally locate it.

“Y/N?” A familiar deep voice sounds out and it is only then that you hear other voices in the flat.

“Hello?” You say, cringing slightly at the state you were in when Hoseok obviously had friends around.

“Y/N? Come join us in here,” Hoseok shouts again in the direction of the living room.

You take a few deep breaths as you slowly head to the living room, water in hand. Internally trying to sober up, yet your mind still fuzzy, and your walk a bit wobbly.

When you get to the door you look around the room, leaning against the frame for support. Hoseok was sat on the sofa facing the door and therefore you, a smile on his face. Around him are four other people. One man with blonde hair, and a wide smile like Hoseok, another man with longer brown hair and a boxy smile, a third man that only had a small smile that showed no teeth, and a woman who had long brown hair that nearly reached her hips. Your eyes whip around the people in the room, all their eyes on you, the room silent.

“Hi,” you give a small awkward wave at everyone with the hand holding the water, which sploshes around, some escaping the glass and you give an audible “woops” as you watch it.

“Hey. Sorry I would have told you about this but it was a very last-minute thing so I didn’t have a chance to leave you a note,” Hoseok explains. “I did knock on your door to invite you, but you were obviously out. Been anywhere nice?”

“No worries. I’ve just out with friends, sorry I didn’t leave you a note” you point over your shoulder as if to clarify where you had been, and the boy with blonde hair lets out a small giggle as more water leaves your glass. “I’ll clean that up,” you say stupidly as it’s just water, and Hoseok gives you a fond smile.  

“You guys leave each other notes?” The blonde-haired boy continues to smile as he looks at Hoseok.

“Well, yeah,” he says awkwardly, looking over at you shyly, and you can only join the boy in laughing, realising how stupid it sounded.  

“He’s never given me his number,” you shrug a massive smile on your face. The alcohol causing you to say things you would never normally say.  

“So you leave each other notes?” The boy's eyes are now back on you as he continues his questioning.

“I guess it’s the only way I can talk to him,” you say, eyes going to Hoseok, a red tint coming to his face. “I just say the normal things, good morning, how you doing? What you up to? And then I get a reply 10 hours later, it’s like living in the 19th century,” you laugh at yourself, the blonde man joining you, unsure what the hell you were babbling on about.

“Maybe one of you should have just written your number on one of the notes. Then you would have caught up to the 21st century,” the boy that previously only had a toothless smile was now looking at you with amusement, a small gummy smile on display.

You hum in response. Honestly you had considered it, but you were too scared of the rejection. Hoseok had never provided you with his number and you thought maybe there was a reason behind it. You had left the ball in his court, though you were unsure if he knew that.

“I should maybe introduce you guys,” Hoseok speaks up, trying to move the conversation on. “This is Yoongi,” he points to the guy with the gummy smile, “Jimin,” the blonde-haired man, “Taehyung,” the boy with the boxy smile, “and Liv,” he points to the girl. “And this is my flatmate Y/N,” he introduces you and you do another embarrassing wave.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Jimin smiles at you and your face heats up at the words.

“Have you?” You say, not believing him.

“Oh yeah lots. Only good things don’t worry,” he reassures you, though it doesn’t do any good, your mind thinking about all the things that Hoseok could have said about you.

You nod your head slowly at him, still unsure if he is messing with you. “I hope he didn’t tell you about how awful I looked when I was ill,” you say suddenly remembering.

“He mentioned it, though I don’t recall him describing you as looking awful,” Taehyung smirks.

“Did you want to join us?” Hoseok cuts in, and when you look at him you can see that his face has turned a slightly darker shade of pink.

“It’s alright, I was just going to head to bed,” you point to your room this time, making it clear where you meant, Jimin giggling at your action again.

“We have alcohol,” Yoongi mimics you by pointing at the bottles set on the table.

“I seriously don’t think I need any more,” you say. “Water should be enough,” you hold up the glass which causes more liquid to fall out.

“Just stay for one. Looks like your waters going to need a refill soon anyway,” Jimin jokes. “I promise we are nice. We want to meet Hoseoks flatmate that he won’t stop talking about.”

You look over to Hoseok to gauge his reaction, you didn’t want to intrude on his mini gathering. He gives you a small nod, letting you know he is ok with it.

“Ok,” you give in, finally moving away from the door you were propped against. “But I seriously do not need any more alcohol. God knows what I’ll start rambling on about then.”

“Just one,” Jimin says as he starts to pour out a concoction of different liquids. “I want to hear your rambles.”

You make it over to the sofa and almost fall down onto it, sat at the far end closest to Jimin. Downing the remainder of your water you place the now empty glass on the table before taking the glass Jimin hands you.

“To new friends,” he laughs as he raises his own glass so that he can cheers you.

You pout slightly as you take the smallest sip of your drink, even that feeling too much.

“So what do you do Y/N?” Liv asks you before you have even taken the glass away from your lips.

“I work in marketing,” you say, a small smile on your lips as you look at her. “Sounds boring I know,” you laugh at yourself. 

“No, marketing's cool. What company do you work for?” She reassures you.  

“I work in digital marketing at a relatively small company. I basically help work on their apps, making them better and more accessible for the customer,” you say and can almost see everyone's eyes glaze over in boredom. “It’s not the best job in the world, but I enjoy it,” you say feeling slightly insecure. Hoseok was in a career that made him a lot of money and he was probably friends with people who also did the same. You are suddenly very aware that you are probably in a room full of people that made more in a week then you do in a year.

“I think it sounds great,” Jimin jumps in. “I love apps.”

You laugh at his attempts to reassure you, thankful for his kindness. “What do you guys do then?” You say it lightly as it seems like the next natural question but you instantly regret it, all eyes in the room shooting to Hoseok who looks worried, and the atmosphere in the room shifts slightly.

“I’m a PR,” Liv speaks up and you are glad that she breaks the tension in the room. “Of sorts anyway. I basically just manage people schedules and what they need to be doing.”

You nod at her words, actually interested in what she was saying. “I’m not sure I would be organised enough for that,” you say.

“But come on, we want to know more about you. How come you’re living here with Hobi?” Liv steers the conversation away from jobs and though you are glad the tension in the room is slowly disappearing, it does not help your curiosity when thinking about what Hoseok does for a living.

“I needed a room, he was providing one,” you shrug, deciding not to go into detail, taking a sip of your drink to avoid talking.  

“And are you enjoying it here?” Liv presses.  

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” you give a smile, taking another sip of your drink. “The décor wasn’t the best, but now I’ve improved it, it’s great.”  

A laugh ripples through the room and that combined with the alcohol gives you some fake confidence.  

“What’s it like living with Hobi? Has his OCD cleaning annoyed you yet?” Taehyung asks.  

“No, it’s late-night snacking that would annoy me,” Yoongi chimes in.  

“Come on guys, it’s surely his singing. I’ve heard him in the shower multiple times and I think my ears are permanently scarred,” Jimin laughs.  

“No, no, what about all his clothes. Has he asked to take over some of your closet space yet?” Taehyung starts to laugh just as hard as Jimin, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.  

“Go on then, what’s the most annoying thing?” Yoongi asks and all eyes go to you. Under the pressure of the eyes your face starts to heat up, your previous confidence dissipating into the air.  

“We all know it’s my obsession for tea. I go through the stuff so quickly Y/N is probably having to buy the stuff daily,” Hoseok saves you and you give him a small smile to show how much you appreciate it. “Anyway, let’s stop harassing Y/N, she’ll never want to join you guys for a drink again if this is how you treat her.”  

“No, I’m fun,” Jimin pouts at you. “She’ll want to hang out with me again,” he says and you giggle at his words. “Yoongi is the boring one here.”

“Hey. I’m not the one harassing her with questions,” Yoongi shoots back at Jimin.  

“Well at least I’m welcoming and not sat in the corner looking all grumpy,” Jimin continues and you can tell that it is just the way their relationship goes by the smiles on both of their faces.  

“I was the one that offered her alcohol,” Yoongi says.  

“Neither of you are fun,” Hoseok jumps in. “Let’s just play a game.”  

“A game sounds good,” Taehyung agrees, standing up to go and get something, coming back a few seconds later with a pack of cards in his hands.

You end up playing a game that you had never played before, yet somehow ended up winning the two games you played.  

“You know the winner has to drink, right?” Jimin looks at you.  

“That wasn’t a rule last time I won,” you say.  

“That was a practice,” he defends.  

“Why does the winner have to drink?” You look around the table in the hopes someone would back you up, finding no one was going to. You give a small huff and cross your arms in annoyance. “I would have at least tried to not be as good if I had known. Though it would have been hard to not have one you are all so rubbish,” you say with a small smile as they all start shouting out at your insult.

“That definitely deserves a drink now,” Taehyung chimes in, and you give him a small glare.

“Come on, as the newest member of the group you should drink,” Hoseok adds and you open your mouth in mock shock at him.

“If anyone was going to have my back, I was hoping it would be my lovely flatmate,” you say and you see a few eyes flick between you as internally cringe at the fact you had called him lovely. “Maybe you’re not so lovely after all,” you say unsure if you were making the situation any better.

Deciding to end your embarrassment you pick up your glass and down its contents, face scrunching up when it was all gone.

“Now that’s honestly enough, I don’t want a throwing up Y/N on my hands tomorrow,” Hoseok says. “I’ve already had to look after her once,” he gives you a smile and you look away in embarrassment at the memory.

The night turns to talking. They continue to ask you the occasional question but talk turns to topics and people that you don’t know. While they try to include you at the start, all the alcohol you had drunk starts to make you go sleepy and you end up passing out on the sofa to the sounds of their voices. 

Head pounding, throat dry, a slight queasy feeling in your stomach, it felt like you were ill all over again, but this time it was self-inflicted. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, to realise where you were and what had happened. The last thing you remember is being on the sofa, everyone talking while you struggle to keep your eyes open. But this morning you find yourself tucked in your bed wearing just your underwear and t-shirt.  

Slightly embarrassed about not knowing what occurred last night, you roll over in search of your phone, finding it on your bedside table. 7:10am. You groan, cursing the fact that you naturally wake up so early due to work.  

After failing to get back to sleep, you decide you may as well get up and have some water and see if you can stomach any food. Rolling out of bed you change into your actual pyjamas and head to the kitchen. Downing a pint of water, you pour a second glass and sip on it while you make some toast. Taking a bite out of you, you walk to the living room planning on watching a film. You almost chock on your toast however when you see a figure on the sofa. Having assumed you were home alone, or at least the only one awake at this time, you are surprised to see Jimin tucked under a blanket.  

Though he is fast asleep your face instantly heats up with embarrassment. You stand awkwardly in the door, not knowing whether you should turn on the spot and head back to your room, or go in and watch a film as planned and risk waking the man. You opt for the third option. Turning on the spot you head instead to the snug.  

Settling into your favourite seat, looking out at the barely lit city below you, you continue to chomp on your toast. Placing the empty plate that once held on the coffee table, something catches your eye. Standing up you take a step so you are stood by the wall of books and knick-knacks. But placed on one of the shelves, right in the corner, is a picture.  

Picking it up you pull it closer to your face so you can study it. A family, a man and a woman with a young girl and boy stood in front of them. They all have big smiles on their faces, looking like they are mid laugh. The little boy was unmistakably your flatmate Hoseok. Though he was probably 15 years younger in the photo, he still had the same eyes, the same hair, the same smile.  

“My parents and my sister,” a voice says from behind you and you almost drop the frame.

Spinning round you see the man you had just been staring at in the photo. Hair fluffy and sticking up at odd angles, he obviously hadn’t brushed it, in a pair of long plaid pyjamas, and a pair of animal slippers on his feet. He had obviously just rolled out of bed.  

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise, placing the photo back where you had found it.  

“You don’t need to apologise,” he smiles at you. “It’s your flat too.”

“I don’t usually snoop around your stuff,” you continue to apologise even though he’s already told you that you don’t need to. “I had just never noticed this before and wanted to have a closer look.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” he chuckles slightly at your rambles. Moving closer so he stands next to you he picks up the photo you had just put down. “I decided a few more personal touches might be nice around the flat. You must be rubbing off on me,” he looks over at you and you shy under his gaze, eyes going to the photo in his hands. “My parents,” he points at the two older people in the photo. “And my sister,” he points at the young girl.  

“Very cute,” you say.  

“We were on a day out and my dad asked someone to take this photo. It’s one of my favourites.”

You look at him as he stares down at the photo and can see the almost longing in his eyes. You can tell how happy he is just staring at the photo in his hands. Almost snapping out of a daze, he visibly shakes his head before placing the picture back in its spot.  

“A simpler time,” he says with a pang of sadness in his voice.  

“Things always become more complicated when we get older,” you say. “Which reminds me. What happened last night?”  

He chuckles at your words and you are glad to see the smile return to his face.  

“You had obviously just had a bit too much to drink. I’d blame Jimin’s drink making if I was you,” he says.  

“God, how embarrassing,” you shove a hand over your face in an attempt to hide, unsure what you had done.  

“Nothing embarrassing. You just passed out on the sofa, don’t worry,” Hoseok continues to smile at you.  

“Thats embarrassing,” you say, peaking through your fingers to look at him. “And how the hell did I get into my bed?” You panic slightly.  

“Well, we tried to wake you,” Hoseok’s face goes slightly red at the words. “But you were completely knocked out. So I carried you to your bed.”  

“Oh god,” you groan. “And my clothes?” You almost don’t want to ask but also need to know the answer.  

“That was all Liv,” Hoseok is quick to defend himself, hands in the air in mock surrender.  

“Jesus, I’m a mess. I’m so sorry, your friends are probably wondering why the hell you have me living in your flat.” Dismissing his clear embarrassment over how you ended up in your bed in just a t-shirt and your pants, for your own embarrassment.  

“Forget about it. Let’s just go have some food and watch something,” he doesn’t wait for your answer before leaving the room, you trailing behind him.  

“I think Jimins asleep in there,” you say sheepishly before Hoseok walks into the living room.  

“He’ll be alright,” he shrugs at you before walking in.  

You follow him in, noticing Jimin still sleeping on the sofa, seemingly not bothered by Hoseok clattering around. Being a bit quieter, you sit down on the sofa, legs out in front of you as Hoseok turns the TV on.  

“What we watching?” He asks.  

“I don’t mind.”

“Letting me choose may not be wise,” he warns and you just smile at him, letting him know you honestly don’t care. “The notebook it is,” he says and you can’t help but laugh.  

It takes about 20 minutes of the film to play before Jimin finally wakes up. You and Hoseok had been relatively silent before he woke up, but Jimin is quick to change that. Sitting up you both watch him as he squints around the room in confusion.  

“Looks like you had fun last night,” Hoseok laughs at Jimin with his blonde hair ruffled all over his head, his undercut on show.  

Rubbing a hand over his face, his eyes squint as he continues to look confused. You give him a small smile when he meets your eye contact, before looking away, wanting to give him some sort of privacy haven just woken up.

“Have you guys eaten yet?” Are the first husky words that leave Jimins mouth, and you can’t help but laugh along with Hoseok.  

“Fancy ordering something?” Hoseok asks and as you look around to him you see Jimin giving a silent nod, hand on his forehead.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” You ask Jimin a bit concerned. Nodding he hardly looks at you. “And I still owe you for the food you got me last time,” you say to Hoseok as you get up to get some water for Hoseok.  

“And I told you not to worry about it,” Hoseok calls after you as you walk out the room.  

Reappearing a few seconds later, hands now full with a cup of water and some paracetamol, Hoseok and Jimin are already talking food.  

“Will you at least let me pay for this one,” you plead, handing Jimin the things in your hands getting a small thanks in reply.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Hoseok barely looks at you as he scrolls through food options on his phone. “What about Moose cafe, they do good pancakes?” Hoseok doesn’t even look at you as he aims the question at Jimin.  

“Jimin, tell me what you want, I’m buying it,” you say stubbornly, whipping your phone out.  

“No, I have it,” Hoseok shoots you a glare.  

“Jimin, I just got you that water, the least you can do is let me buy the food,” you say.  

“Jimin, you’re in my house as a guest the least I can do is buy you food,” Hoseok replies.  

“I pay rent to live here, so I could also use that as an excuse,” you roll your eyes at Hoseok. “You are the one that keeps telling me to treat this place like it’s mine,” you raise your eyebrows at him. “Please just let me pay,” you plea.  

“For God's sake,” Jimin finally speaks. “Will you guys just shut up? Listen, he is not going to let you pay, and neither am I.”

“Why have you got to be so nice? I owe you money, why won’t you let me pay it,” you whine slightly. You felt like Hoseok was already doing you a favour by letting you live here so cheaply, you didn’t want him doing you any more favours on top of that. It may not be much money for him, but for you it was, if it was any other friend you would have paid them and they wouldn’t have refused.

“Don’t worry about it, love,” Hoseok repeats, a small smile returning to his face as he realises he may have won. “So, what’s everyone having?”  

“I’ll have the pancakes with bacon,” Jimin says.  

“Y/N?” Hoseok looks at you.  

“I don’t want anything thanks,” you reply.

“Don’t be like that,” the smile falls off Hoseoks face at your stubbornness.  

“I have food in the fridge I need to eat,” you shrug lightly.

“Just add some extra pancakes in for her,” Jimin pipes up and you shoot him a glare.  

“I won’t eat them,” you say.  

“They’ll just go in the bin then,” Jimin says.  

“I can afford to buy my own pancakes,” you slouch into the sofa, letting them know what was getting to you.  

“We don’t doubt that you can’t,” Hoseok voice is softer, realisation hitting him. “It’s just pancakes. Don’t over think it.”  

You don’t reply to him, feeling like you were making the situation more than it needed to be, after all it was just pancakes. But your money insecurities were slightly getting to you. And he takes your silence as compliance to order the food, letting you and Jimin know that the food was on the way.  

“Last night was fun,” Jimin attempts to cut the slight tension that has arisen in the room.  

“Yeah, thanks for letting me crash,” you say. “Your friends are really lovely.”  

“Was nice to have you join, everyone really liked you,” Hoseok says.  

“Even though I passed out?” You cringe at the thought.  

“Especially because you passed out,” Jimin laughs. “Now it’s not just me that’s done it in the group.”

“Great, not sure that’s the best reputation to hold,” you say. “I’m guessing you have the day off work?” You ask Hoseok, noting the fact he was still in the flat when he would normally be gone.  

“Oh yeah, we have a few days off,” he says.  

“You two work together?” You are still intrigued to what your flatmate does, but are also conscious that whenever the topic arises the atmosphere shifts.  

“Unfortunately,” is the only reply you get, essentially cutting the conversation short, and increasing your intrigue on the subject.  

“Have you got any plans with your time off?” You ask.  

“I’m planning on just hanging around the flat, so sorry but you’ll have to put up with me for a few more days,” Hoseok replies. “Maybe Jimin and some of my other friends will come round one night?” Hoseok directs the question to Jimin. “If that’s ok with you, of course,” his head shots in your direction, almost as if he forgot you live here.

“It’s your flat, invite whoever you want,” you say.  

“But you know you can invite whoever you want here too?” Hoseok says.  

“Of course,” you say, though your voice doesn’t sound as sure as your words.  

“Well if Y/N is here, I will be coming round all the time,” Jimin winks at you and you give a hearty laugh in response.  

“Jesus, is there anyone you don’t flirt with?” Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you continue to laugh, feeling slightly embarrassed by the comment.  

Saved by the doorbell, you almost leap up when you offer to go and get the food. Leaving the room, it doesn’t take you long to get the food and plate it up, carrying it all back on a tray you stop outside the door when you hear your name mentioned.

“You haven’t told her?” You hear Jimin ask.  

“How does it really ever come up into conversation? It’s not something you just casually say,” Hoseok says.  

“I’m still on team tell Y/N. And now I have met her, I am even more pro,” Jimin says.  

“I will, I just need the right time,” Hoseok says.  

“And like you said, there is no perfect time. The longer you wait, the weirder it will be,” Jimin says.  

You have no idea what they are talking about. What could Hoseok possibly be keeping from you that Jimin thinks he should be saying? And why does Hoseok think there needs to be some perfect timing for him to tell you?  

Realising you had been stood eves dropping for a second or two too long, you decide to walk into the room, pretending you heard nothing. The two of them seemed oblivious to the fact that you may have heard them, and you keep it that way. Eating your pancakes and chatting with them you enjoy your day off with your flatmate for once.  

[dreamescapeswriting]

All I want ~ JJK [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.2k

PAIRING: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

GENRE: Angst, fake dating, established relationship, fluffy ending

A/N: Hope this is okay for you!

The day had started off so brilliantly, Jungkook had been texting you to arrange a romantic weekend away together to make up for the last couple of months of awfulness but now it felt as though your world was falling apart. That and your anniversary was coming up this weekend so he wanted to take you somewhere to get away together. But now you were staring down at the magazine in your hands you could have screamed out in heartbreak as you saw the photo that was splashed across the front page. Lip locking with someone that wasn't you, making out with the devil.

"Y/n? I'm waiting?!" You stared through the glass window at your boss who was smirking at you, she knew what was going on and why that magazine had been placed on your desk that morning. The front page was splashed with images of her and Jungkook making out at the side of the Han River. Taking in a deep breath you got up from your desk and picked up the magazine, slipping it into the reviews of her latest book and walked into her room. 

"You have a meeting with BigHit this afternoon," You told her as you tried to act as though you hadn't seen the magazine, despite her being the one that had placed it onto the desk in the first place. 

"Is Guky going to be there?" You cringed at the nickname that she had for him but you bit down on your tongue nodding your head at her.

"You and Jungkook have a date tonight in his favourite restaurant." What you meant by that was your favourite restaurant, it was where Jungkook had given you a promise ring before he went on his first tour when you were dating. The longer you stared down at the desk thinking about your time together you thought back on the first time he told you about all of this. This being the fake dating contract that was going on between him and your boss Miss Ko Moon-Young. 

The whole world felt as though it had frozen around you as Jungkook told you what he was being told to do by BigHit and it just seemed off to you. Why would Jungkook need to fake date someone to gain more fame when he was in one of the largest boy bands in the world. The contract was sitting on the kitchen table in front of you, he'd already crossed the T's and dotted the I's without even asking you how you would feel about this. After a four year relationship, you figured that he would have at least asked if you would be okay with him fake dating someone.

"Baby it's just for a couple of months...It's not for me it's for her, BigHit needs her reputation to go up as they're signing her." You scoffed at his piss-poor attempt at making it seem as though it was no big deal. The author who was supposed to be fake dating is Ko Moon-Young and she was one of the most well-known authors in the writing world and not because she was good at writing. Her writing was exceptional but it was her personality that she was mostly known for. Being awful to her fans, being nasty with every person she met. The woman would do anything she could to get what she wanted, which included stealing from restaurants she ate at. Stealing things from the people she dated because she just wanted the things she saw. Nothing would stand in her way. The woman was dreadful, you'd always been taught that if you had nothing nice to say than to keep your mouth shut but she was the exception to that rule. Standing up from the table you grabbed the plates from your dinner the two of you had shared and began to load up the dishwasher,

"You mean her reputation needs saving," You grumbled as you shut the dishwasher turning around to look at him as you folded your arms over your chest. Sighing to himself he looked at you, he knew that you weren't going to like the idea of it but when BigHit told him to do something it wasn't as though he had much of a choice. He smiled weakly at you as he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he looked into your eyes. 

"She's your boss you know, you know what she's like." You rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. Although she was your boss it didn't mean you had to like her. The woman made your life a living hell, always making you do something she could have done for herself.

"Baby, you know that I love you, nothing will stop me from loving you." You hummed sarcastically in response to him and tried to walk away but he pushed you against the countertop and forced you to look into his eyes. He wasn't going to let you walk away without talking about it first.

"Ko is nothing to me, we're the ones that have been together for four years. Nothing is going to make me forget that," You looked into his eyes as you tried not to get mad at him for all of this, 

"You could have told me before signing it," You mumbled as you thought about it more and more, biting down on your lip as you realised what they would have to do together. All of the things that you wanted to do with him in public, the events, the walking around like a real couple and not having to hide in the house all of the time. Pretending as though you didn't know him and hiding whenever you're out in public and someone happens to stare at him too much and realise who he was. 

"I didn't have a choice, I had to sign it," You pressed your head into his chest as you sighed, Jungkook kissed the top of your head and held onto you tightly making you relax against him.

"Now, come up to bed and let's get some sleep?" You hummed at him again and looked over at the clock on the wall, 

"You can't stay. You have an interview with Miss Moon-Young tomorrow," You mumbled, as much as you would have loved him to stay close to you all night you knew if he stayed in your place he ould never leave and if he ever did he'd be late. Manager Sejin was already mad at you enough for making him late a lot, 

"I'll set an alarm." He whined as you started pushing him towards the front door, you shook your head at his protest. 

"Sejin-Oppa already hates me, I'm not letting you make him hate me more or we'll never be able to out our relationship." It was the truth. Sejin was the one in charge of deciding if Jungkook's relationship was allowed to be outed to the public and he'd declined all of the chances you had to announce it.

"Are you even listening to me Y/n?" You stared at her as she questioned you again, you shook your head, 

"Sorry...I was-"

"Thinking about Jungkook? He's so cute, isn't he!? The kiss was so random! I wasn't expecting it!" She screamed out as she stared at you. Of course, she knew that you and Jungkook were dating. It had been revealed to her when she'd been asking what was going to happen between her and Jungkook. Kissing was off the table, you didn't want them to kiss, you didn't even want them to be near one another and she knew that which was exactly why you knew she'd been the one to put the magazine down for you to see. 

"He is. I hope you guys can enjoy tonight," You were doing your best to seem as happy about this as possible, trying to be as kind as you could about all of this. The best way to get through it was to ignore it, the contract had been extended by two more months and this was the final one. Pretty soon there would be a mutual break coming up and you would be able to have your boyfriend back, all to yourself. 

"I'm thinking! This weekend when we all go on our little holiday I can steal him for a few hours?! We can get seen and then you can have him whatever it is he has planned." You frowned as she mentioned the holiday. 

"W-What?" You questioned, staring into her eyes as the smile on your lips slowly began to fade and an evil smirk began to grow on her face. 

"Didn't Jungkook tell you? The only way you were allowed to take your little anniversary holiday was if I came along?" A shiver ran through you as you dropped your clipboard onto her desk in shock. 

"I-I'm taking my lunch." You mumbled quickly as you began to back out of the room, bumping into the door frame as you began to take off and out of the building as you headed straight to Jungkook. Calling his phone and asking him to meet you at the back entrance of the BigHit building where you would always meet up with one another. 

"She's coming with us?!" You yelled as he pushed you into one of the empty dance studios, shutting the door and leaning against it as he waited for you to get the yelling out of your system. When he turned around you were standing with your hands on your hips waiting for him to say something about everything that was going on. 

"It was the only way we would be able to go out baby. I thought you would be happy." He told you as he looked at you, he was doing everything he could to keep your relationship working while also maintaining his job but it was getting harder. 

"Happy? Yes. I would love my horrible boss following me and my boyfriend around all weekend." You held back the tears that were threatening to come out, the one thing you didn't want to do was cry in front of him when you knew he was having a hard time with all of this as well. Taking in a couple of deep breathes you shook your head at him, 

"I'm sorry...I just- She put that magazine of you and her on my desk and then she dropped the shell on me that she would be coming with us?" He shook his head as he brought you into a tight hug wanting to hold onto you for as long as he could, the two of you were finally alone for the first time in months. You'd hardly had any time together since his "relationship" with her, it had always been them needing to be around one another all of the time. Leaving you and Jungkook on the outskirts of the relationship, 

"I promise that once I'm seen landing with her in the airport and we're seen checking it, that's it. We can do whatever we want, whatever our hearts desire," He promised you as he kissed your lips softly, 

"She'll leave us alone?" He nodded his head at you and you smiled weakly at him, deciding that if she wasn't going to be around you all of the time that you could do it. 

"Then I suppose that's okay." You mumbled to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kisses him, whining against his lips as you realised just how long it had been since you'd kissed him. 

"I miss you," You whimpered as you pulled at his shirt to open the buttons, you felt the smirk on his lips grow in size as he began to push you against the mirror behind you. Pulling at the shirt you were wearing as he tried to open it, he'd missed you sneaking into the building to have some fun together, 

"I miss you too baby," He panted as he began kissing down your neck, biting into your skin when someone tapped on the door softly making you groan out. 

"Miss Ko is calling for Y/n, she wants her to come back from her lunch early," You heard Sejin say from the door making you bite down on your lip and look into Jungkook's eyes. 

"Just think of our weekend, our time together." He whispered to you as he kissed your lips one last time, watching you walk out of the room sighing to himself as soon as you were gone.

"When are you going to tell her?" Sejin asked as he walked into the dance studio, closing the door behind him as he looked at Jungkook for an answer. 

"When the time is right-"

"She'll see it in the magazines sooner or later," Jungkook rolled his eyes making his way out of the room as he tried to think of the best way to tell you that the fake dating was being moved to a fake engagement. 

The plane ride to your surprise holiday was only short, Jungkook had taken the time to fly you all to a small private island where you could be alone for most of the trip. The plane for you had been awful though since you weren't supposed to be seen with Jungkook you were sitting in Economy while Jungkook and Miss Ko were up in first class, Sejin in business class. You thought you would have at least been placed there since Miss Ko was your boss but it turned out you were just shoved to the back. 

"Baby you're going to love it," Jungkook whispered as he covered your eyes. He'd gotten you to meet him outside his room in the hotel and was now leading you down the beach with his hands over your eyes. Your hands clutching onto his forearms as you tried not to scream out, you always liked being able to see where you were going but he was keeping everything a secret. The only reason you knew you were on the beach was that you could feel the sand and hear the waves crashing down against the sand. 

"Can I just watch? I mean I already know we're on a beach," You giggled as you felt Jungkook struggle to walk you around the beach. 

"Because this is supposed to be a special surprise," He whined as he moved his hands away from your eyes, 

"Anything with you is special baby," You promised him as you turned to look at him, not noticing the way he had arranged somewhere for you both to sit. 

"I know but, the last few months have been so hard on you so I wanted to make this a way of making it up to you," He whispered as he kisses your lips softly, that was when he turned you around to look at the firepit on the beach. Sitting beside it was a picnic blanket, picnic basket and pillows laying all over the blanket so that the two of you could sit comfortably.

"Jungkook this is-" You stopped talking when he bent down and went into the basket pulling out a see-through box to reveal a cake. 'Happy Anniversary Y/n!' Written across the front in bright pink icing,

"Jungkook it's adorable, thank you." You whispered as you looked at him. All the months of the two of you not being able to be together, went out of your mind and all you could think about was the time you had spent together. All of the good memories flooding back into your head.

"I got us some take-out food because I couldn't cook, which was my original plan." He laughed awkwardly at the thought of it. His original plan was to take you to his place and cook for you but with the recent news of his "relationship", he couldn't do any of the things you used to. Taking you out on cute dates in the day when he could hide, or taking you to his place or going to yours. Everything was so much harder now.

"Hey, this is perfect. This is all I could want." You promised him as you sat down on the blanket and got ready to eat some of the food that he had bought with him. 

The night had been perfect in every sense of the word. Jungkook had spent the entire night holding you, after you finished eating you both just laid down on the blankets together. Enjoying the time alone you had with one another for the first time in a long time. 

"There's one thing I can't wait to do," You admitted to him as you rolled over and placed your chin on his chest just staring into his eyes, 

"What's that?" He hummed as he began to run his fingers up and down your back slowly, staring back into your eyes. 

"Fall asleep with your arms wrapped around me-" The sentence was interrupted when you heard your boss's shriek fill the air instantly ruining the moment within seconds. 

"And it's gone," You mumbled sitting up and wrapping your own arms around your body and rubbed your skin as though you were cold. Guilt swamped Jungkook as he looked at you and then to Miss Ko who was squeezing herself down onto the blanket. 

"I'm bored, you said this would be a good trip but there's nothing here for me to do!" She cried out, picking up some of the cake Jungkook had brought and began eating it without being offered any. 

"Move over, the sand is ruining my dress." She hissed at you making you move, she was still your boss at the end of the day and you couldn't be mad at her for ordering you around. 

"Miss Ko, we're having a date." Jungkook tried to tell her but she just ignored him, picking up some frosting on her finger and holding up to his lips. 

"You should eat this, it's lovely. Have you tried some Y/n?" You hummed in answer to her turning to look at Jungkook with some help on making her leave but Jungkook just smiled at Miss Ko. 

"Jungkook...I'm getting tired, maybe we should go back to your room?" You questioned with a smile on your lips but it was quickly removed when Miss Ko told you that she and Jungkook were in the room next to one another with a conjoining door to their rooms. 

"Jungkook. We have that meeting tomorrow with Sejin remember, we have to go and pick out rings." You frowned at her and then looked at Jungkook who was avoiding your gaze. 

"Rings?" You asked, turning to your boss who nodded at you happily. 

"Engagement rings!" The world seemed to stop for you a second time as you stared at Jungkook waiting for him to tell you that she was lying. It was all some fever dream you were experiencing or Miss Ko was just trying to wind you up but he stayed quiet. 

"We're going to announce our engagement next week-" You stood up making her stop talking and walked away from Jungkook and her on the beach. Not wanting to sit there any longer than you had to. He had promised you it would just be a few months, nothing longer than four was what he told you and yet here you were six months later and it seemed to only be extending more and more. 

Later in the night, you figured you were probably overreacting to everything. Jungkook had been trying to call you since you left the beach but you ignored him. Sending him to voicemail while you showered and tried to sleep for the night but it was proving to be difficult. You were having a losing battle with your head and wanted to at least talk to Jungkook about it. Talk it through with him and confirm that their relationship was all still for sure like he told you it was.

You were opening his door with the key he'd given you earlier that day, he wanted you to have it so you could stop by and see him whenever you wanted. 

"Jungkook I know I shouldn't have stormed off earlier. I was just mad when-" Sitting on the bed with Jungkook was a half-dressed Miss Ko, in nothing but an unbuttoned dress shirt and her makeup smeared across her face. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at them, sitting so close together it looked as though they'd just gotten out of a make-out session. 

"Y/n it isn't what it looks like!" Jungkook jumped off the bed but you were already crying as you stared at them. The tears you had been holding in for the last six months finally flowing free as you stared at them both. Your breaking point had been passed and it felt as though your heart was being ripped out of your chest. 

"I quit. I'll be on the next flight home, Miss Ko. Jungkook I'll make sure all of your things are ready for you to pick up at my place." You didn't give him a chance to explain himself or chase after you as you walked out of the room. Leaving Jungkook yelling out your name as you burst into sobs, slamming your hotel door and whimpering into your hands. 

The airport was empty thanks to it almost being 3 am which meant you were free to tear up and cry into your hands as much as you wanted without getting too many weird looks. You'd grabbed the cheapest flight possible home and booked it right away, heading to the airport so you couldn't bump into Jungkook.

"Babe!" His voice cried out as he rushed up behind you in the waiting area of the airport, you ignored him. Keeping your eyes forward as though you didn't know him but that wasn't going to stop him. He sat down beside you and waited for you to look at him. 

"Y/n please, she was trying to kiss me but I pushed her off me," You rolled your eyes at him, scoffing at him as he tried to talk his way out of this. 

"Her shirt was open-"

"She walked into my room like that! You know what she's like! She's a fucking bitch," He cut you off as he began to let tears roll down his face. Your flight number was called over the speaker and you got up from the seat, ignoring Jungkook as he raced after you. 

"Please Y/n, you know I would never do something like that to you," You shook your head as you listened to him. 

"I used to think that, now I'm not so sure...Were you even going to tell me about the fake engagement?" He nodded his head but you just let your tears flow down your cheeks and tried to walk away from him but he stood in front of you to stop you from moving. 

"You're making a scene. People will see us together-"

"Let them! I will scream it from the rooftops that you're the one I love and not Miss Ko Moon-Young!" Your hand on your bag dropped and you cover his mouth but he stopped you as he stepped away. 

"I, JEON JUNGKOOK AM HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH Y/N Y/L/N!" He screamed out loudly gaining the attention of some stewardesses and some passengers that were all turning to look at you both now.

"Jungkook. Your contract-"

"I'll rip it up if it means I lose you I don't care! I need you in my life Y/n please," He pleaded with you, gripping onto you as he pulled you into his arms, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you close to his body.

"You're all I want. I didn't kiss her, she tried to kiss me and she unbuttoned her clothes." You stared into his eyes and you smiled weakly, he had always been a terrible liar which was how you knew this was the truth.

"I'll tell Sejin I want no part in it, that I want our relationship to come out. You're the only one I care about," He promised before bringing you into a passionate kiss in the middle of the airport. 

"Come back with me, we can spend all our time in your room." He said to you as he kisses your lips again, looking into your eyes and smiling weakly. 

"You'll be in trouble," You tried to tell him but he shook his head, 

"I don't care, I have you and that's all I care about," He whispered as he took your hand in his and began leading you out of the airport and towards the taxi that was waiting for you both to get inside of. 

The very public relationship between Miss Ko and Jungkook was cut short as soon as Jungkook told his manager that he was no longer interested in doing the contract anymore. You still quit your job with Miss Ko not wanting to work for her anymore, you weren't interested in working for someone who was willing to ruin your relationship with someone you loved. 

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @taestannie​ @rjsmochii​ @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​

[spenciegoob]

11 Minutes

A/N: Hi this is lovely based on the song 11 Minutes by Yungblud featuring Halsey, so if you’ve heard that song before, man I’m really sorry for this one. If you haven’t... man I’m really really sorry for this one. Also yes this is really short I’m sorry.

Couple: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral!Reader

Category: Fluff/Angst

Content Warning: death of a major character, car accident, therapy

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4K

____

“Spencer, the last two times that I’ve seen you, we’ve sat in silence,” the doctor pointed out, obviously annoyed that her patient, who ironically enough had more PhDs, was wasting their time. “I know it’s hard to start, but the best place to, is from the beginning.”

“Y/N. Their name was Y/N.” This was the first time Doctor Fredricks heard Spencer say anything besides their usual before meeting greetings, and after meetings scheduling. “I heard it all, you know?”

“Heard what, Spencer?”

“Everything.”

“Spencer, I promise you I am getting in the car now. You’ll get to see me in 15 minutes,” you laughed into the phone at your very impatient boyfriend.

“Actually, I’ll see you in 17 minutes and 42 seconds give or take traffic patterns and how awful your first attempt at parking is.” It had been exactly 9 days 7 hours 24 minutes and 43 seconds since you last saw Spencer, and he wasn’t the one counting down by the second this time. 

“Hey!” You barked right back. You weren’t the greatest parker in the world, but there was no need to mention it. “I could walk and skip the parking altogether.”

“No,” he whined, growing more impatient by the second. “That’ll take you an hour, and it’s been enough time since I got to see you. Please love bug, I take back the parking comment.”

“Alright, alright, alright. You’re getting off the hook...” you said as you put the key in the engine, but before you turned the car on, you mumbled, “this time.”

“I heard that!” You couldn’t stop the guilty giggle from escaping your throat and into the speaker of the phone. “Did I just hear your car turn on? I’m hanging u-”

“No, sh. I’m putting you on speaker. Don’t worry, doctor. I’m not on my phone while driving.” Of course Spencer would be nervous about you being distracted by anything while driving, he had the statistics lodged in his brain about car accident deaths.

“Did you know that roughly 1.35 mi-”

“Million people in the US die on the road with an average of 3,700 per day? How could I forget?” You cut him off, hearing this rant every time you went to change the station on your car radio.

“You’re on speaker, and I’ve been driving for 2 minutes already. I think I’ll be fine for the next 15, I promise.” You both knew it was ridiculous to stay on the phone as you headed over to his apartment. It was like the two of you couldn’t wait another second without the other, and thankfully modern technology granted you both that.

“It’s dangerous, love bug, and you know it.” Spencer just would not give up, would he? You’ve had your license for over a decade, and yet he held onto the handle next to his window as if he was your mother teaching you to drive for the first time whenever he was in the car with you. “Plus you speed.”

“What can I say? I like to live on the danger side. Plus do you really want to talk about car deaths, or can I yell at you for insulting my driving TWICE now,” you joked, feigning offense to Spencer’s truthful mean comments about your driving.

“I would much rather talk about how much I missed you,” he sweet-talked to you. While it was cute and all, you knew it was just so you would immediately forget about his little backhand driving comments.

“I missed you, too, my love.” Of course it worked. It was Spencer Goddamn Reid.

“How much longer?” The tone of a little boy in a candy shop whose parents just said no to pounds of sugar returned. You smiled and shook your head to yourself.

“According to maps, 13 minutes.” You let your mind wander as you stared out into the road ahead of you. How did you get so lucky with Spencer?

The day you two reached for the same book in a small library that was almost hidden to the street outside was the best day of your life. You and Spencer talked for hours about Emily Dickinson, other authors, composers and personal lives. It felt natural to spend time with him, and if you could, you’d spend every waking moment with him. That day, you hadn't even realized that 5 hours had passed, nor did you realize you never asked for his name in that amount of time.

“Don’t speed, but hurry up...please.”

“Spencer, how am I supposed to do those things at once?” The light turned red before you could run it, adding at least another 30 seconds before you got to see him.

“I’m 11 minutes away. The lights in this city just su-” You never got to finish your sentence, because the car behind you forgot to stop.

Your head shot forward, hitting the top of the steering wheel as your car and the pick up truck coming at you at 40 miles an hour made impact. Your car had involuntarily skidded in the middle of the intersection. Thankfully, however, it wasn’t a busy one.

“Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?!” You hadn’t registered Spencer’s insistent yelling through the speaker in your phone until the ringing in your eyes subsided to a small dull.

“Y-Yeah,” you croaked out. “Some ass just hit me from behind.”

That’s when you looked to the left of you.

They say when people die, they see a white light at the end of a tunnel, but you saw two. You saw two headlights coming in your direction at a speed that you knew was impossible to stop. The weight the truck carried along with the amount of force used to halt the tires in their place made it so that the driver had no choice.

“You know I love you, Spencer. I love you so much.” You stared death in the eyes, it coming in the form of yellow lights and a blaring horn you knew Spencer could hear on the other end.

“Y/N, I-”

“I never got the chance to actually say it back.” Spencer finished recollecting your death, something he only did in the comfort of his home, alone with nothing but the silent sobs that raked through his body.

“Spencer, you don’t have to tell me for me to know that you blame yourself,” Dr. Fredricks spoke calmly, too calm for Spencer’s liking. He had just told her about the worst moment of his life, and she still held the same tone as if she was saying see you next week.

“How could I not?” He started to get more upset by the second, his voice rising in volume and his body leaning forward. “How do I sit here, and not blame myself? I called them that day. I was the one that rushed them. Me, no one else, but me!”

“Were you driving either cars that hit them?” Spencer knew what she was doing. Dr. Fredricks was trying to get him to admit it wasn’t his fault, so instead of giving in, he stayed silent. She sighed before continuing.

“You need closure, Spencer. The wound is still so fresh that it will never start to heal if you don’t let it.” At this, Spencer sat back and fiddled with his fingers.

She was right. He needed to start healing instead of ripping the wound farther across this heart, cutting deeper each time.

“That’s all the time we have for today. You’ve made great progress this week, and I hope that we can follow that pattern next week as well.” Spencer smiled down at his therapist as he stood up to walk out.

“Oh, and Spencer,” Dr. Fredrick called out. He stopped and turned, expecting a reminder he didn’t need for next week’s time.

“Their last words were I love you. Don’t ever forget they meant it.”

Spencer finally let a tear run down his cheek, the first time he cried in front of anyone after your death.

He nodded before walking out onto the busy DC street. As he was walking, Spencer took out his phone, flipping it between hands, contemplating his next move.

‘Closure, Spencer. You need closure.’ He kept repeating in his mind.

Finding a bench, he sat down to search his contacts for the one name he couldn’t bring himself to delete.

Before Spencer could rethink his next move, he made it, pressing the call button. The phone didn’t even ring, it just went straight to voicemail.

‘Hey! Sorry I missed you, I’m probably asleep. Leave a message, but I can’t promise I’ll listen to it. Bye!’

“Hey, love bug.”

____

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[nonbinarychaoticstupid]

fifteen (hugging each other) if you want? (any ship/pairing/anything you feel like) aaaa

:0 skjckiskjdshd i was going to do carulia bc AA but then i fell into the lumity hyperfixation and this was born dksjdjksdjknjf this is the fastest i have ever written for a prompt

ft amity being ridiculously soft and in love and probably a lot of spelling mistakes idk

They drop Willow and Gus at their respective homes before midnight sets in - Amity even helps Gus crawl in through his window, which is nice of her, Luz thinks. She's too sore and tired to do anything except stand behind her, watching the street in case Odalia comes tearing down it on top of another abomination (probably with teeth this time, because who knows what happened after they ran away from the warehouse), gripping her sore arm and thinking about how her heart started pounding in her ears earlier, how she flushed when Amity grabbed her shoulder and hurried her outside and had to stare determinedly at the stars for a good ten minutes before she could look her in the eyes again, how -

"Luz?"

She jumps. It's Amity - of course it's Amity, she's been anxiously hovering around her and mumbling apologies for her parents since they were sure they weren't being followed - and she's holding out her hand and offering her a small, awkward half-smile, and Luz's heart gives a funny little jump, and then a second as she takes it and laces their fingers together.

And then a third, this time for a different reason altogether, when Gus pokes his head out of the window above them and waves.

Amity waves back (She really likes us now, Luz thinks, grinning up at the illusion of Gus's disembodied head propped on his balcony), and when they set off down the street, she feels her own grip tighten ever so slightly around her hand.

She lets out a long breath. Everything is fine. It's a beautiful, silent night, and she's wandering down the prettiest street in Bonesborough and holding Amity's hand, and there's still abomination gunk in her hair, but everything is... fine. Great, actually. And Amity is smiling, which is awesome, because Luz has never seen her smile at anything like that before.

She could get used to it, honestly.

Amity glances at her and smiles again, softer, slower. "You're making your idea face."

Luz blinks, resists the urge to reach up and feel exactly what face she's making. "Oh, am I? I have an idea face? That's pretty cool, actually. Or is it? Because then everyone knows what I'm thinking. Nah, still cool. I have an idea face. Yeah. I'm intimidating and cool. A bad boy, if you will."

She laughs. (Luz's heart does the funny little jumping thing again. She wonders, distantly, if it shows.) "The literal walking definition of a bad boy, you goof."

"Baddest boy in the Boiling Isles. Lesser witches cower before my star power."

Amity laughs again. She has a really nice laugh (like, wow), and it's still making something in her chest feel funny. "Luz the Bad Boy," she says, somewhat giddily.

"Azura the Good Witch and her edgy cousin." She squeezes Amity's hand, swinging their interlaced fingers between them. It's not often they get moments together like this, and she's starting to understand now what it is that's making her heart race and her breathing feel funny, and she thinks, a little distantly, that spending time alone with Amity is going to be - weird now, and - "I'd read that book."

"Please don't tell me the next thing we do is write it."

"Oh, we?" Luz turns to grin at her. "There's a we now?"

And Amity - Amity flushes.

"Yes - I, um - a - a we, sure, I don't - I dunno, uh - we as - as in - um -" She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing away, and Luz's heart does the jumping thing again.

"Wow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, grip loosening on her hand, and she chews on her lip and squeezes it tighter. It probably isn't the best move, but Amity... Amity seems to respond well to it - she squeezes her hand back, and when they round a corner and officially make it out of the main town, Luz notices that they're walking in sync. The realisation makes her smile.

"Amity," she begins, and Amity jumps.

"Hm?"

"Are you gonna go back to your parents tonight? I - I don't think that's really safe. You - you could - uh, you could stay with us, if you want. Just until school tomorrow. King won't sleep on your clothes if I tell him not to, I swear."

She smiles at her over the space between them - the same soft, slow smile that made Luz's heart do the Thing again earlier. "I - thanks for the offer, but I'll probably go to Skara's. She's used to it. Me coming over after an incident, I mean."

"Stuff like that's happened before?" Luz whispers, and she meant it to sound casual, not... tense. "I'm - I'm really sorry, Amity. I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

Amity shrugs. "You didn't know. It's not like I go around telling people. And it's not - it's not a big deal, anyway."

"Amity, that necklace -"

"Luz," she mumbles, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal. I can handle it. I've got Edric and Emira."

"And your father?"

She shrugs again, slower this time. "He doesn't care. Mom could dangle us over the edge of a cliff and he'd be more concerned with the soil density than, you know, his children."

Luz can't think of anything to say except "I'm sorry." She reaches out with her free hand, touches Amity's shoulder, and she gives her a long, warm look. And they fall silent.

And Amity's head falls gently onto her shoulder.

--

The silence lasts for the majority of the walk home, right up until they make it into the woods, and then Amity lifts her head from Luz's shoulder and murmurs, "It's really pretty out here at night, isn't it?"

Looking over at her and saying yeah, it is would be the obvious and cliché thing to do, and also Amity would notice and probably laugh at her, so Luz stares determinedly again at the sky for the second time tonight and chokes out, "Yup. Really pretty. Love living out here. Especially at night."

Amity giggles, and it's the most undignified and adorable sound she's ever heard come out of her mouth. "You're a dork."

"Biggest dork on the Boiling Isles. Baddest boy around. My list of qualifications just keeps on growing."

She laughs again. And Luz realises that ever since they escaped the warehouse, she's been... relaxed. Not happy, because dealing with a mother like that probably couldn't leave her feeling particularly cheerful, but... open. Softer, warmer. And she thinks it's because of the absence of the necklace.

They stop not far from the Owl House, in the shelter of a large tree she knows, logically, isn't oak, but looks too close to be anything but. Amity's head falls back onto her shoulder again. She makes a soft, contented noise (and the Thing happens again, and she thinks, wow), and mumbles, "You're thinking about the necklace, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything. That was all you. But yes, I am curious. D'you - d'you want to talk about it?"

A long, almost languid shrug. She reminds Luz of a cat sometimes. "She used it to talk to me. And, uh - and keep me in line, I guess. Threaten me where no-one else could hear it. Where Dad couldn't stop it. Yeah, he did try to stop it sometimes. Mostly because he seems to draw the line at physical injury he can't explain to the authorities." The corners of her mouth twitch up, and Luz has to shake herself.

"That's awful," she breathes, feeling small. "That's horrible, Amity, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amity detaches herself from Luz's side, and her hair is messy and sticking to the side of her face and when she steps away and turns to face her she keeps a hold of her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

Luz smiles at her.

--

Amity lets go of her hand when they get to the porch. (Luz tries not to visibly frown at the loss of her presence.) She makes it all the way to the door, Amity trailing behind her with an odd, uncertain expression, and then something shifts a little within her ribcage and she spins around and flings herself into her arms, and Amity yelps and stumbles back a little, and then she loops her arms around her shoulders and hugs her back.

Luz likes hugging Amity.

It's such a simple thought, and it makes her feel so strangely delighted. They fit perfectly between each other's arms, and in the half-dark, lit only by the dim, guttering light from the lamps inside the house itself, and she has the feeling that the only reason Hooty isn't directly behind them making some snide comment is because Lilith is inside and entertaining him, thank G0d.

Something like five minutes pass - I've been hugging Amity for five whole minutes, oh my gosh - and then she hears, somewhere to her left, "Uh, Luz?"

"Hm?"

"This is nice."

She settles her head on Amity's shoulder. "It is."

"I think I have to let go now."

"Nooo..." She buries her head in Luz's hoodie, just gently enough to make her heart do the Thing again, and sighs, and Luz laughs.

"You okay there?"

"Don't get a lot of hugs."

"Mm. You can still stay with us tonight if you want." ('Don't get a lot of hugs.')

Amity shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Thank you for saving my life today. You were awesome. You are awesome. I can't imagine doing anything like that."

"Luz," she says, warmly, softly, "You do it all the time."

And with that, she steps back, lets go of her entirely, and practically skips into the night, leaving Luz to stare after her and wonder why she left so fast, and spend the rest of the night agonising over this weird, warm feeling buzzing away in her chest.

[mandoalorian]

hi can i get a dio one shot where his gf is kinda little miss perfect like she always listens and never breaks the rules and her parents are always pressuring her to do really good but as she keeps hanging out with him and his friends she becomes more of her own person and she comes out of her shell more and starts liking the things he likes and maybe she stands up to her parents after they say he’s a bad influence for her ???

The Bet [Dio x F!Reader]

Author's note: Anon asked for a one shot but they’re getting a three part mini-series instead. 🖤 this is for all my lovely nonnies who have been asking me to write for Dio.

Warnings: mention of food and drink, brief mention of alcoholism, cigarettes etc

Word count: 2000

Masterlist

"You've been staring at her all day," Raven groaned, stabbing a curly fry into her pot of ketchup and shoving it in her mouth. "Just go talk to her."

Dio shuffled around uncomfortably. "I can't." he frowned, narrowing his eyes in your direction. There you were, sat at the cafeteria table alone, your head deep in a book. You'd left your lunch to one side, hoping to get back to it once you finished this chapter.

"Aw, does Dio have a crush?" Raven cooed teasingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Shut up," Dio retorted quickly. "You have ketchup around your mouth."

Raven's smile quickly faded as she pulled out a compact mirror to check her appearance. Dio went back to watching you. You were beautiful, and he just didn't understand how the world around you seemed to ignore you. He could somewhat relate. Although he had his group of friends, he still felt like an outcast. But you were always alone, your head in the clouds or stuck in some book. As far as he saw, you didn't even have friends. You spent your days cooped up in the academic library, studying or doing your homework.

"Pointless staring," Ash rolled his eyes, but Dio just swallowed, trying to dismiss his comment. "You could never get a girl like her."

Dio finally turned to face Ash, and even flicked a glance towards Raven who was still wiping ketchup from the corner of her lip, about to reapply her black lipstick. "I could get any damn girl I want." Dio folded his arms across his chest.

Ash hummed, scrunching up his nose. "Sure kid, whatever. If that's what you chose to believe."

Dio scoffed incredulously and leaned over the table. "You tell him Raven! I could get any girl!" 

Raven didn't look up from her mirror once. "Sounds like he's challenging you, Dio."

"Is that true?" Dio hissed. "You're challenging me?" his voice was sour.

Ash nodded his head and picked up a curly fry from Raven's plate. "We're all still up for getting wasted in the park tonight, right? Dio, if you can get ‘little miss perfect’ over there to join us, I'll take back what I said."

"That's ridiculous," Dio shook his head. "She's not gonna come with us. Sometimes I don't even know why I bother going with you guys," Dio looked back over to you— you really were little miss perfect; with the perfect smile and glistening eyes. When Dio looked at you, it was like nothing else mattered. The whole world turned into a blur, only, he could just about make out Ash's chuckle in the background. "Fine. I'll do it." Dio frowned. He knew if he didn't at least give it a shot (or better yet, succeed), he'd never hear the end of it from Ash and Raven.

Dio threw the crust of his sandwich back down on his plate and pushed his tray to one side before standing up. He brushed down his outfit, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable before speaking to you, and sauntered towards you. He could practically feel Ash and Raven's eyes burning into his back from the other side of the cafeteria.

"Hey," Dio greeted, clearing his throat and sliding down on the unoccupied seat across from you. You looked up from your book and your eyes met with his. "I'm Dio— I'm uh, I'm in your science class and math class. You might not know me but-"

"Trust me, I know you." you shot back before you could even let him finish. You turned a page in your book and pretended to seem uninterested. It was difficult though, because the mysterious boy with jet black hair and pierced ears was for some reason giving you the time of day. You— out of all people. You usually had good intuition and you felt in your heart that there was something not right about this interaction.

"What are you reading?" Dio asked curiously, peeking over to try and get a glance of the pages.

"1984." You mumbled back.

"Oh I love that book!" Dio exclaimed with a grin as he kicked his feet back on the table, knocking your dinner tray slightly. Now that comment made you look at him.

"You've read 1984?" you raised your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, read… watched the movie… same thing really," Dio shrugged and you couldn't help but giggle. He was adorable— and slightly dorky which was something you hadn't expected at all. "It's about how there's someone always watching you…"

"Yep," you nodded in affirmation and pointed towards the table where Dio was once sat at. "Kinda like how your friends have been staring us out since you came over." you waved at them awkwardly. Raven avoided eye contact, looking back down into her bowl of curly fries.

"Shit, I'm sorry about them," Dio sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "The truth is, Ash bet I couldn't pick you up."

"Why would he bet that?" You asked, sliding your bookmark into the novel and placing it down on the table. You suddenly felt vulnerable but at least Dio was being honest with you.

"Because, I can't stop thinking about you," Dio shrugged helplessly. "And I want to get to know you better. Would- would you be opposed to that?"

You thought for a moment, and then shook your head. Elated, Dio smiled and scrawled down his phone number on one of your napkins. No person had ever shown you any interest, and now one of the school's most intimidating guys wanted to ‘get to know you better’? You'd be foolish to lie to yourself anymore and pretend like this wasn't something you'd thought about before. You'd caught glimpses of him at the back of class, you'd try to repress a smile every time he quipped a sarcastic comment back at a teacher or distracted the class from their work.

He wasn't the type of guy you ever imagined ending up with, but you were still intrigued by his enigma. Dio might've only recognised you from science and math class recently, but you'd known him since preschool. Before he dyed his hair, got all those tattoos and piercings. He even used to live in your neighbourhood, before his dad died and he had to move. You'd heard stories about him since then, about how he'd ‘gone off the rails’. But he still seemed nice enough. Truthful, and he still had that sparkle in his chocolate coloured eyes that you remembered from when he shared the sandpit with you in elementary.

The napkin with his number on weighed you down until you got home. You placed it on your dressing table and sat down. It was staring at you— begging for you to call. You sighed, giving into the temptation and rang the number. After three rings, Dio answered.

"Hey, it's me." you said quietly, nervously biting your lower lip.

"Oh hey! I'm so glad to hear from you. I was beginning to get afraid that you wouldn't call." Dio admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. You overheard some chattering in the background.

"Are you busy?" you wondered out loud.

"I'm just with Ash and Raven. We're having a few beers in the park. You're more than welcome to join us."

You winced at the thought of joining them for beers in the park. You'd barely took a sip of champagne at your aunt's wedding, nevermind drinking bottles of beer with the most intimidating group of teenagers in the whole town.

"Oh I don't know Dio…" you mumbled.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. It'll just be nice to have your company— and I promise, we don't bite." you considered his words and sighed.

"Okay Dio, I'll be there in half an hour. Text me the address."

"Got it," Dio grinned. "See you soon."

Ash chuckled as Dio hung up the phone. "We don't bite?" Ash quoted Dio with a smirk. "Oh, she's really that innocent huh?"

"I want you both to behave," Dio warned. "Don't scare her away." 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you should change your outfit to something maybe a little more alternative. You wanted to fit in with Dio and his friends, after all. However, you remembered Dio has come to you, interested in you just the way you were. And you swore that you weren't going to change yourself for anyone. You combed through your hair and grabbed your favourite pink lip gloss— one that you wore only on special occasions.

Your mother came in just as you were applying it. "And where do you think you're going?" she snarled, raising an eyebrow as you puckered your lips.

"Out with some friends." you shrugged nonchalently.

"What friends?" she questioned you further, her voice was highly strung and she stood with a hand on her hip.

"You remember Shane Morrissey from preschool?" you asked nervously. "Well- he goes by Dio now, and-"

"No." your mother narrowed her eyes. "That boy is nothing but trouble. Ever since his dad died and he and his mother got evicted, I've heard that he's turned to a life of crime. A petty thief. And his mother? An alcoholic."

You scowled at your mother's condescending and judgemental attitude. "You don't know him." you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

"And I'm not sure you know him either." your mother snapped back.

"I'm going whether you like it or not," you huffed, standing up and grabbing your jacket. "You can't shelter me your whole life." 

Before your mother could even reply, you bolted out the house and ran down the street. Luckily, it wasn't too cold, and the address to the park was only a ten minute walk from your home. You spotted Dio, Raven and Ash almost immediately. The trio were sitting on a small grassy patch.

You sat next to Dio and tried to engage in conversation, although you weren't really familiar with the things they were talking about. Dio helped you out though, taking his time to explain things so you understood and he encouraged you to talk about your own hobbies and interests. The second Raven tried to peer pressure you into drinking, you politely declined and Dio whisked you away from them. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asked you in private.

"No, I'm okay, I think," you nodded your head in affirmation. You really didn't want to go home— you were having such a good time with Dio.

"Because if it's too much…" Dio trailed off. "Maybe we can go back to my place?" he suggested. "I know Ash and Raven can be intense. So it would be just us."

Your gaze flicked back to Ash and Raven who were sharing a cigarette and you smiled. "Yeah, okay," you agreed. "I'd like that."

"Good," Dio replied softly. "Let's go then."

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[superhero--imagines]

* There’s so many ways this can go

* But I bet you’d meet him when you moved into his apartment building

* It’s in this -for lack of better words- shitty building in Gotham

* But it’s the best you could do with your budget, plus it’s the only building with a gate

* Not that it means much in Gotham, but something is better than nothing

* (Also if you have a pet/dog, they aren’t charging a pet deposit)

* Jason is someone who lives on the same floor, either next to you or across from you.

* I’ve got two headcanons about neighbor!Jason

* He’s either a friendly neighbor who engages you in small talk whenever you run into each other

* Or he’s incredibly reserved, you hardly ever see him and when you do he enters and leaves his apartment so quick you can’t get a word in

* Overall you don’t really talk to him much

* Honestly you’re probably a little intimidated by him

* He’s like 6’0 and 250 pounds of muscle

* He’s also a beautiful man, so you’re also a bit intimidated by how you’re attracted to him

* Jason barely registers that you’re his neighbor tbh

* So many people filter in and out of these apartments he’s stopped forcing himself to remember their names

* He only notices you when Dick is with him at some point, helping him carry some things from Bruce’s mansion

* “I’m starting to think you’re pretending to need help so you aren’t suffering alone”

* “It took you this long to realize that?”

* You come back from work at this point, in your cutest outfit, you’d had a good day so far

* Riding the wave of confidence you wave at them before disappearing into your apartment

* “They’re pretty cute” Dick whistles, and Jason looks to where you stood

* “I guess” well you did have a pretty face, and every once in a while he can hear your music from his apartment

* It’s always lo-fi beats or something relaxing

* it’s kind of cute too

* “Do they live alone?” Dick asks, and Jason shrugs

* You’re pretty quite, not many visitors, he likes that. The less people around the better

* “I think they have a dog.” He recalls seeing you walk a dog early in the morning, slightly concerned, this is Gotham after all

* “So no boyfriend?” Jason raises an eyebrow

* “Please don’t date my neighbor Dick.”

* “Why, do you want to be their boyfriend?”

* He shoves another box into Dick’s arms to get him to shut up

* Jason notices you a bit more after that, he notices you when you’re at the mailbox getting your mail, or when you’re climbing up the stairs with bags full of groceries

* Unfortunately everytime he sees you it’s followed with “oh, it’s that person that Dick thinks is cute.”

* Which usually makes him grimace.

* One day though, as he’s getting mail he notices a few of the letters he has have your name on them

* Looks like the mail person got the unit numbers wrong

* He sighs, more human interaction he doesn’t really want

* He’s considering just waiting for the post office worker tomorrow so he can slip it in your box, when he sees you in front of your door

* “Hey, I got your mail by accident” he says, sticking out the package. You grasp it with both hands

* Jason can’t help but think about how small your hands are compared to his

* well, someone would surely find that a little cute

* He doesn’t realize he’s staring until a finger digs into the corner, ripping open the plastic.

* “Oh cool, I’ve been waiting for the book for a while, thanks so much!”

* The smile you give him should be illegal

* He can feel his face grow hot, as he nods

* “N-no problem” he mumbles, escaping into apartment.

* It doesn’t really bother you, you go into your own apartment, excited to start your new book

* The back of Jason’s head rests against his front door

* Okay he gets it now, yeah you are pretty cute

* After that things get a bit smoother between you two

* “Is that a new book?”

* “Yeah, I picked it up on my way home, I’ve been meaning to read it for a while”

* “That ones okay, but I like the one the author wrote before better.”

* Jason’s pretty well read, so you two end up mostly talking about books

* “If you want I can write you some recommendations”

* “Sure I would love that!”

* And here comes that smile again, Jason’s not a Virgin, so he doesn’t understand why every time you smile his face erupt into flames and he can’t think right

* “I’ll leave it on your door later”

* Talking about books turns into trading books

* “Hey, you wanted to read Murakami’s short stories right?”

* “Oh, Thank you! Also I got your mail haha!”

* Jason’s starting to wonder if the postal worker is trying to set you both up

* “Hey, are you feeling okay?”

* Jason’s really not

* “I’m just a little tired”

* Just then a cough escapes him

* God dammit

* “Do you want to come in? I have some tea that might help”

* Tea does sound good, but he shouldn’t, adorable neighbor or not he should keep some distance

* “I also have some whisky, if you’re a believer in the medicinal effect of hot toddy’s.”

* Aw hell

* Thats how Jason finds himself in your apartment, sitting on your couch, looking at your rather impressive book collection

* He knew you liked to read, but he’s still impressed

* “Here.” You hand him his hot toddy and a coaster

* He takes a sip and grimaces

* “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

* Your face erupts in flames, you honestly weren’t. In truth you were expecting to get rejected. So to see him here, at your apartment, petting your (dog/cat/bird/etc) is pretty surprising

* “I’m kidding” Jason says, noticing you blush “I like them strong too”

* You’re a little nervous that things will get awkward, but Jason’s a pro at the art of conversation (when he wants to be)

* “You like Scott Fitzgerald?”

* From there the conversation falls into books, to music, to things that are deeper

* “I don’t know, I just thought I’d be further ahead by now yknow?” You say, leaning back in the arm chair.

* Jason’s sprawled out on the couch, no longer trying to make himself as small as possible

* “Where did you think you would be?”

* You’re both drinking straight whisky at this point

* “I don’t know, I just never pictured myself spending all my time at a job I hate. Living in an apartment where the floorboards are coming out, and the paint is falling off the ceiling”

* It’s true, the paint does fall off the ceiling. One time the drywall fell off in a clump and landed beside him when he was sleeping.

* “And honestly, I thought I’d at least have a boyfriend”

* Jason’s head pop up to look at you

* He can be your boyfriend

* The words are dancing on his tongue, but what comes out is:

* “Relationships are over rated, I haven’t dated anyone since 2016”

* “2018 for me,” you grin “I can’t tell if that makes me the winner or the loser though”

* You both laugh, and for a moment Jason thinks that you’re just like him, lonely in your own way

* Maybe you can make each other happy

* But he extinguishes the thought as soon as it comes to life

* He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own home

* And as he takes another swig of whisky, he realizes he might be drunk

* So he lets himself laugh with you, excusing himself once it starts to get late.

* “Hey Jason, I realized I don’t have your number.”

* You give him your phone, and he has to try extra hard to make sure all the numbers are entered correctly

* “Cool, I’ll text you about what time is good for us to go to that book store you mentioned.” You say before closing the door behind you

* Jason doesn’t remember inviting you to his bookstore, but he still finds a grin curling onto his face

* You slide against your closed front door

* Your face is burning, and you feel way more embarrassed then you should

* He just looked so handsome when he was smiling, and he said he hadn’t dated anyone for even longer than you

* It doesn’t help that you had quite a few drinks, so you took a shot

* The worst that could happen was that you would have to laugh it off as wanting to be his friend

* Or wanting to know who his book supplier was

* Both were equally true

* You’re feeling even more embarrassed when you feel you phone buzz

* Jason: Do you have the weekend off? We could go then

[aeonghaseyo]

Your Trace, My Treasure

Summary: Marc and Nathaniel write and draw, respectively, on each others' notebooks because it's DEFINITELY a couple thing to do.

Word Count: 2105 AO3 link

Relationship/s: Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Marc Anciel Category: M/M Characters: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, Alix Kubdel (mentioned), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (mentioned), Juleka Couffaine (mentioned), Rose Lavillant (mentioned), Alya Cesaire (mentioned) Language used: English Author's Note: The creators of MLB really need to give the side characters screen time. The love square isn't the only romantic set of ships in the show and there are much more cute ships to write about. And so in my first time of writing a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic, it's about a ship that's entirely not part of the love square. This is my final workshop output from a creative writing class I enrolled in during the summer to get units in advance. Special thanks to my professor and two of my classmates for their feedback; I couldn't have made this work even more wonderful without their help. For the non-love-square ship and this being a successful workshop output thus far, I think I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back and more fanfic ideas to write. :)

Compared to the courtyard at Françoise Dupont High School where the lively chattering of students can be heard and the scrambling of footsteps were a staple, the art room was its own entire world of silence.

It was supposed to be a calming silence in that same art room where Marc and Nathaniel were to work on art-related endeavors of their own, but the former found this unwelcoming and rather deafening. It weighed down on his being that the atmosphere was unbearably awkward, much like he was most of the time even before he met Nathaniel and became his partner in creating comic books about Ladybug, Chat Noir, and their akumatized alter-egos who turned good and served as part of the superhero duo’s akuma-fighting team. Despite a remarkable development from being acquaintances, to newfound partners, and now to a bloomed romantic couple, Marc Anciel, as awkward as ever and still testing the waters on this newfound relationship, couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of inadequacy as someone’s significant other.

It just goes to show him that even though his romantic feelings for Nathaniel had been reciprocated at Day 0, it does not remove the remaining unease that Marc currently feels at Day 1. It was his first time in a relationship, and it was with the boy whose drawings he admired so much from the school paper. Simply put, it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness Marc felt wasn’t masked enough, and Nathaniel immediately noticed from his place by the table beside his raven-haired beau. How could he not? It was very obvious, from the way Marc’s hand shakily distorted his usually refined, elegant script while writing the next chapter of their comic to the way his expression was contorted as if he was constipated. Nathaniel thought to himself that it was still an adorable sight, but clearly, something was up, and it wouldn’t do well to just ignore whatever troubled his beloved partner. Attempting to break the ice, the redhead cleared his throat, then spoke to call Marc’s attention.

“Marc.”

The novelist jolted in surprise at the utterance of his name. “Y-yes, Nathaniel?”

Leaning in for a better view of the page Marc was writing on, Nathaniel replied, “Your handwriting’s different.”

“W-wait, really?” blurted out Marc, quickly covering the page with his gloved hand. “I d-didn’t know you were p-particular with handwriting.”

Nathaniel placed a gentle, caring hand on his boyfriend’s with a smile aimed directly at him as he clarified himself, “It’s not that, Marc. I’ve seen it and it’s great. Right now, it just looks… wobbly. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Even if Nathaniel was a recluse in his own class, he could very well read into the emotions of people, but he doesn’t show it that often. As endearing as it was as a show of concern towards shy Marc, it was also overwhelming for the raven-haired novelist to have been the subject of such deep perception, even from the boy his heart palpitates for.

It was then that Marc’s fight or flight response reminded him in a split-second that he needed some sort of diversion for Nathaniel not to remind him of his own awkwardness.

“Isn’t it weird that our art teacher didn’t come here?” Marc rapidly questioned as he struggled not to look at the red-haired boy beside him. Despite this attempt to keep Nathaniel’s focus off of his disposition, glancing towards the door and not at Nathaniel did not help stop the blood from rushing to the novelist’s fair cheeks. His partner might be tired of this, of him, already, but that light chuckle of pure amusement coming from Nathaniel disproved that thought.

“Hey, hey, settle down Marc,” chided Nathaniel, “he might be running late. It’s okay for us to use the art room so long as it’s reserved around this time. Good thing that he reserved it at an earlier time than usual.”

With innocent green eyes, the raven-haired boy looked his boyfriend in the eye and asked, “H-he can do that?”

“Of course, he can. Let’s just wait for him, okay?” reassured Nathaniel, his left hand making its way on Marc’s right shoulder discreetly. “I’m sure my other classmates will arrive here shortly too.”

A shy smile emerged from Marc’s face as he replied, “Okay, Nath.”

Suddenly, a ringtone from the phone which was in Nathaniel’s pocket sounded audibly enough to catch both the boys’ attention. The redhead immediately fished out the device from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing three unread text messages from his close friend Alix.

Hey Nath! Something came up and I couldn’t swing by the art room. Love troubles again with Marinette. Juleka and Rose are also helping out with me so they can’t come.

I can’t believe that Marinette got invited personally by Adrien to his photoshoot but she can’t even give him her handmade gift or ask him out. Because she’s such a wuss, I got dragged here in the park by Rose because Mari needs all of her girl friends to push her towards Golden Boy Agreste YET AGAIN.

And apparently Alya alone couldn’t do it. Sorry! You’ll have Marc to keep you company anyway. Have fun! ;)

So much for those girls coming over to the art room. Nathaniel let out a sigh as he muttered, just enough for Marc to hear, “I stand corrected. The others aren’t coming.”

Catching on his partner’s crest-fallen demeanor and gazing at his face with sympathetic green orbs, Marc replied, “Guess it’s just the two of us for now.”

The next minutes were spent in silence again, with Marc continuing to finish a paragraph while Nathaniel sketched a bird’s eye view of the Eiffel tower as the background in one panel of the comic storyboard in his notebook. After several minutes elapsed, however, curiosity got the best of Marc, and so, with the tip of his pen lingering on the period of his last sentence, he kept on glancing at Nathaniel and the storyboarding he was working on. Besides the sheer focus that was evident in Nathaniel’s turquoise orbs, the shy novelist couldn’t help but notice the fine, steady strokes his beau’s hand were making with his fine-pointed mechanical pencil. So neat, so pristine. It’s amazing how he didn’t need an eraser to erase certain portions of his drawings over and over.

Marc had seen artist sketches himself of both people and objects, mostly done by his friend Marinette. As someone aspiring to become a fashion designer, she would be engrossed in sketching designs day by day, passion ignited by the sparks of inspiration she draws from around her. However, since Marinette’s sketches had obvious hints of disorder, as it normally is with crude artist sketches, it clearly contrasted with the otherwise structured sketches Nathaniel makes for his comic books. Marc, fully in awe, couldn’t help but take a break from his writing and stare at the red-haired illustrator’s creative process right next to him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, thanks to the strong, overbearing feeling of being watched, was getting overly conscious of his work. Keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he quickly turned to Marc and asked, “Do you need something Marc?”

Snapped out of his trance wide-eyed, Marc inwardly panicked. ‘Oh no, I must be staring at him too long! I hope I didn’t spook him too much.’

Scrambling for a sensible response, the novelist stuttered out, “I-i want to write something in your notebook.”

Setting down his pencil while his turquoise eyes were still on Marc, Nathaniel blinked inquisitively. “Oh, why would you want to do that?”

“B-because,” the shy writer reasoned, “I want to write something to remind you of me. T-that is, if y-you don’t mind.”

The red-haired teen averted his gaze from his partner as he remarked, “You know I don’t let anyone write on my notebook, Marc.”

This response triggered the disappointment that Marc had anticipated from the moment that they started continuing to develop the rest of the comic book they were working on together. It was even more daunting for the timid writer that their art teacher and the rest of Nathaniel’s classmates who were usually in the art room with them did not show up at that moment, or even at all. Marinette would tell Nathaniel that it’s a great idea for his newfound love to leave special traces on his personal notebook while Rose, somehow finding this romantic, would gush at this gesture with Juleka mumbling to herself in response. But what would have been the cherry on top for Marc at the moment is that if Alix was there to egg on Nathaniel, pressuring him to give in and let his boyfriend write something in his notebook. At least the comic relief from Alix’s teasing would help alleviate the collective awkwardness the couple felt at that moment. God, if only it wasn’t just the two of them in the art room at that moment.

But alas, he was alone, helpless and daunted, and he was facing the dragon which was Nathaniel, or whatever Nathaniel thought of him at that moment.

However, all of the fears and doubts that plagued Marc left him when Nathaniel continued with a small, endearing smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The novelist beamed at his boyfriend, green eyes sparkling with delight. “R-really?”

“In one condition.”

Marc took and held in a quick breath. “Anything, Nath.”

The illustrator picked up his pencil once again and uttered, with an outstretched hand right by Marc’s notebook, “Let me draw in your notebook.”

It was at that moment when Marc could feel his heart flutter, accompanied by the butterflies in his stomach as he opened his own notebook to the very last page and laid it out right by his beau’s workspace.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In a span of 2 minutes while Nathaniel was drawing on the last page of his boyfriend’s notebook, Marc, fidgeting and tapping his pen softly on his chin, racked his brain for a simple yet memorable piece to write on the first page of the illustrator’s notebook, which was left empty out of personal preference by its owner. Hoping to obtain bit by bit of inspiration, he glanced at Nathaniel, then at the empty page, then at Nathaniel, and so on and so forth. This went on, albeit unnoticed by the redhead, until mere seconds after, he scribbled away on the page once he had gotten attuned with his creative writing flow.

After both of them finished leaving their traces on each other’s notebook pages, Nathaniel and Marc gave each other back their notebooks and instantly opened them to where they each left their special mark. Struck with awe, the novelist softly traced the outline of the drawing and his emerald eyes were drawn to Nathaniel’s signature which he left underneath the recently drawn portrait. A tinge of pink formed on Marc’s cheeks as he admired every stroke that constituted this drawing of him done by none other than the boy he once looked up to, now loved, and who loved him back.

“No one’s written me a poem before,” Nathaniel uttered as he perused every line written by Marc on that now extra special page in his notebook, eyes taking in every word written in that distinct elegant script that served as an epitome of beauty that the redhead beheld. One particular line at the end of the writing, however, caught him by surprise: the words ‘Je t’aime’ accompanied by Marc’s signature in that same fancy handwriting the illustrator adored dearly.

Having regained his composure, Marc turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you like the poem? I-i thought of it on the spot so it might not exactly be to your liking, but-”

“I love it,” interrupted the red-haired teen breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his significant other and squeezing his shoulder. “Really Marc, you make the most wonderful written pieces.”

An expression as bright as day graced Marc’s features as he replied, albeit with a bit of shyness in his voice, “Y-you really think so?”

Nathaniel threw any single hint of hesitation in his being out the window as he placed a tender, loving kiss on Marc’s forehead. “I do. We’re meant to be partnered together, after all.”

And just like that, the uncomfortable awkwardness that haunted Marc was instantly warded off, and in a flash, he enveloped Nathaniel in a tight, warm, loving embrace and leaned into him in newfound solace. The silence in the art room has never been this comforting as the couple relished in this seemingly endless embrace together.