#then roommate gets a new brand of detergent and my arms are suddenly covered with scabs from itching

[fanotastic]

Been running on very little sleep the past week because I found out the bug bite-like scabs I have are actually from contact with a new detergent i am allergic to. 🙃

[snackhobi]

prompt: “Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

thank you to my darling @yeojaa​ for sending this in and thank you to my darling @hobi-gif​ for beta reading it for me, you are both such lovely stars in the night sky of my life xoxo

pairing: seokjin x reader / word count: 1.9k / genre: fluff (sfw/general) / warnings: none!

--

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a hot roommate, must want to jump his bones.

Like. C’mon. Kim Seokjin is nothing if not easy on the eyes. It’s not enough that he has the body proportions of a god—broad shoulders, lovely thighs, everything in its place and perfectly in line with his height and his poise—he has a beautiful face, too. Those lips. That jaw. Those eyes. You don’t want to wax lyrical but it really is like God decided to take his time making Kim Seokjin and everyone else (like you) was just left with the dregs; the stuff that wasn’t good enough for Jin and was thrown aside.

The worst thing, though. The worst thing. The absolute worst thing about Kim Seokjin is that he is A Nice Person. 

You’d barely known each other, only a month into your cohabitation when he’d come across you crying into a tub of ice cream in the kitchen, sobbing over the guy who’d finally grown bored of stringing you along with promises of eventually becoming your actual boyfriend and had just cut you off altogether after one final lay. You were utterly heartbroken and entirely mortified when you noticed Jin standing in the kitchen doorway as you clumsily tried to dig your spoon into the still-hard vanilla, but he’d just slid down onto the floor next to you with a spoon in one hand as the other came to rest on your shoulder. He’d listened to you snivel and sniffle, quietly eating the weirdly chemical-flavoured chocolate ice cream in the own-brand Neapolitan tub you favoured—your least favourite and the one you always left till last.

Once a guy’s seen you crying your eyes out on the kitchen floor in old pyjamas, and you’ve seen him eat five pots of super hot instant noodles on the trot and chase the whole thing down with an entire box of doughnuts, you sort of get to know each other as people—both things are revealing in different ways—and it’s hard for that to not lead to friendship.

You could have dealt with Jin if he was just hot. But he’s hot and nice and funny, utterly ridiculous; he doesn’t take himself seriously while also knowing how to rein himself in when necessary to not overwhelm people and basically you’ve been crushing on him in a major, major way for a while now.

And like. Seokjin is single, so technically you have a chance. But you also have absolutely no chance at all, because? Hello? Kim Seokjin? You? You? Kim Seokjin? He’s so far out of your league he may as well be in another galaxy. And he’s also probably the best roommate you’ve ever had (cleans up after himself, doesn’t microwave fish and stink up the place, likes the same TV shows as you so there are no arguments over the remote), so you’re not about to throw a wrench into the mix by doing something stupid like confessing that you like him.

“Right, I should be back around ten,” says Seokjin. He’s all dressed up for a noraebang night with his friends—well, not dressed up really, they’re just gonna get drunk while wailing songs at the top of their lungs in a small room so it’s not like he has to go all out, but Seokjin makes everything look good. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Seokjin is nice and hot and funny and friendly. Honestly, he’s just a dreamboat of a roommate and a man, with great friends too. Normally you would have leaped at the chance to spend a night out with Seokjin and the other guys, but you’d spilled your drink on Yoongi last time and were still convinced that he was plotting your imminent demise. Even if Seokjin insists otherwise, you want to give Yoongi a wide berth for a little while longer in the hopes he’ll suddenly suffer a bout of amnesia and forget that you spilled a very boozy and sticky Oreo and Baileys cocktail(/glorified milkshake) on him and ruined his shoes.

“I’m good,” you say. “But make sure you don’t have any fun without me and you have to let everyone know that it’s because I’m not there.”

Jin laughs, a wet squeegee of a sound, and it goes straight to your heart. “I’ll pass on the message,” he promises, blowing you a tiny kiss as he goes. 

(Ugh, he’s so cute. You hate him.) (No, you don’t.)

You seem to be setting a trend for yourself in the drink-spilling department, though. During an ad break you decide to get yourself a drink, and even though it’s just a Boys Over Flowers rerun that you’ve seen multiple times, you rush as you pour yourself a glass of orange juice—you don’t want to take too long and miss anything. Suffice to say you Fuck Up and end up with a shirt and trousers covered in juice and pulp and you miss a bunch of the episode as you clean it up, huffing dramatically to yourself the whole time, before scarpering towards your bedroom for some new clothes. 

At least, that’s the plan. You pass by Seokjin’s open door and pause, taking in the sight of a few discarded bits of clothing on his bed and across the back of his chair, things he’d clearly decided weren’t worth wearing out tonight. The one that’s caught your eye is the vibrant pink shirt strewn over his duvet, one of your favourites, one you haven’t seen him wear in a while. It’s one of your favourites because he just looks so cosy in it—Jin ends up with a lot of oversized clothes so they can fit over his shoulders, but he practically swims in material when he wears this shirt, flapping the sleeves at you and then laughing at his own antics. He could wear it as a dress if he wanted to, probably.

… so could you, if you wanted to, probably.

… but you shouldn’t. Like, that’s weird. Jin is your roommate and even if he’s made it clear that he has an open door policy, going in through said open door to get a bit of his clothing is weird. Definitely creepy.

But… you’ve already kicked off your dirtied outfit and you���re just in your underwear so you can’t be blamed for being worried if you’re going to get cold, right? You’re just grabbing the closest bit of clothing, aren’t you?

… You’ll take it off before he gets back and put it in the laundry with everything else; he won’t notice. You’ll just take this awful awful secret to the grave and never tell anyone about your invasive actions.

Oh, man, the shirt smells so good. You share the same laundry detergent but Jin had clearly tried this on before discarding it, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air as you end up swamped in the shirt (/shirt dress), and you don’t regret this. Well, you do, but also you don’t. It’s like being wrapped up in Jin’s arms. Jin’s not shy about giving you hugs but there’s something altogether different about wearing someone’s clothes.

You end up curled up on the sofa as you watch more Boys Over Flowers, knees to your chest and revelling in how cosy and small Jin’s massive shirt makes you feel. You have to hitch the material up so that your hands peep out the ends of the sleeves. Sweater paws are cute on everyone, even yourself, and you giggle as you fumble for the remote so that you can check how many more episodes there are before it turns to something else. You can indulge yourself for a bit. As a treat.

“Unbelievable, I can’t believe Minji did that,” you mutter, so caught up in the drama of it all (as if you haven’t seen this episode four times) that you don’t hear the key turning in the lock, nor do you hear the footsteps that are heading towards you—what you do hear, however, is the sudden sound of Seokjin’s voice, freezing like a rabbit caught in headlights when you do.

“I forgot my wallet,” he says. “I—”

And that’s how he catches you, wide-eyed as you stare back at him, wishing that you could bury yourself between the sofa pillows so that he can’t see you. His keys are still in his hand and his mouth is open around an unfinished word as he takes the sight of you in, scrunched up against the armrest in some ridiculous attempt to shrink yourself small enough that he would have missed you.

He stares. You stare. You both stare. And then—

“Is that my shirt you’re wearing?”

“No!” A high-pitched shrill of an obvious lie. “No, uh, nope. Nuh-uh. Haha, oh, Jin, always such a jokester, you.”

You want the sofa to suddenly develop sentience and swallow you whole, just so you can be out of this situation. So you wouldn’t have to watch as a smile starts to spread over Jin’s face, the way there’s a little glint in his eyes, the way he opens his mouth and says—

“You know, you didn’t have to turn down noraebang just so you could wear my clothes. You just had to ask, I would have said yes.” He doesn’t seem creeped out, just amused, which is—well, it’s better, but, what? He’s laughing at you? You don’t know if that’s worse, somehow, actually.

“I didn’t! I spilled orange juice on my shirt and then I saw this shirt and you weren’t home—”

“Aha, so you admit it, it’s not your shirt,” Jin proclaims. He looks smug.

“Oh my God, I am full of regret,” you groan. “My life is a disaster. Can we pretend this never happened? I will pay you literal money. Please.”

At this, Jin’s eyes turn soft. “Do you really want that?”

“I—wuh? Do I really want us both to pretend you didn’t walk in on me wearing your shirt like some weird stalker or something? Absolutely. Yes. Let’s do that.”

“I wasn’t joking about letting you wear my clothes,” he says. There’s a note to his voice, something a little doughy, yielding and warm for you, and—you know what your gut is screaming at you, but— “I always thought you’d look cute in them, and I was right.”

You splutter. Jin thought you’d look cute—he’s been thinking about you wearing his clothes—the sort of thing that, you know, couples do. But this is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about. There’s no way he’s attracted to you in the way you’re attracted to him.

… but he is looking at you in a way that’s soft and tender, the same look you give him when you think he isn’t looking.

“Jin,” you say, slow. “Are you…”

“The most handsome man alive? Yes, I am.”

You make a face at his interruption and he laughs at your expression before going quiet, eyes so big and lovely and warm as he smiles at you, and you continue to speak. “Are you saying you want to, y’know. See me wearing more of your clothes? Or, uh... Less clothes in general?”

You can feel the blood rising in your cheeks as you say this, and you can see the red that starts to tinge the top of Jin’s ears, exquisite and wonderful. “I’m saying that I’m happy to give you what’s mine, including my clothes,” he says. “And my time. And love.”

You end up pulling the excess material of the shirt over your head as you turn into some sort of bright pink turtle, overwhelmed and in disbelief but so happy.

Judging from Jin’s laughter and the warmth of his hands reaching for yours in their too-long sleeves, he is, too.

[imaginingsoftly]

Trouble - Travis Konecny

Type: enemies to friends, Y/N insert 

Requested: No

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m working on a new series, although it’s going incredibly slowly, so here’s a little something on Konecny until I can start getting parts of the series out!

This was officially the worst day of your life. As if getting screamed at by no less than 5 middle-aged women at work and then heading home to your roommate and her boyfriend fighting again wasn’t bad enough, now you were sitting in your least favorite person’s apartment covered in wine and trying not to cry. Nolan at least had the grace to look sorry for dumping two full glasses of wine all over your neck and shoulders, though at that point even the most enthusiastic of apologies wouldn’t have mattered. 

“Y/N, I..” you held up a hand. If you didn’t get out of the room in the next five seconds you were going to lose it in front of Nolan and everybody else. Madison, the friend that had dragged you into this disaster in the first place, tried to go after you, but Ivan held her back. You thought you heard him whisper to give you a minute, but he spoke too quietly to be sure. It would have been hard to hear over the roaring in your ears anyway.

The mirror in Travis’ bathroom only served to make you feel worse. The wine had soaked through your shirt, staining the white tank top to the point that you knew it wasn’t going to come out. The shirt was the least of your current issues, though. It was the state of your brand new bra that finally broke you. The white lace, so beautiful when you’d bought it the day before, was now stained a dark red. You clutched the bathroom counter, trying to relax even as tears began to leak out of your eyes. “Trouble?” A knock sounded at the door, and you hurriedly wiped at your face. Travis would laugh if he saw you crying over some spilled wine. Hell, he’d probably make some kind of comment about city girls and being high maintenance. “Trouble, you okay in there?”

You opened the door to a laughing Travis, though his face quickly changed when he saw the mascara pooling under your eyes. “Y/N?” His hands came up to cup your shoulders awkwardly as you broke down. If Travis was calling you by your first name rather than that stupid nickname he’d given you, then you must really look bad. “Oh, sweetheart.” Travis pulled you in tightly for a hug, ignoring your muffled protests about the wine you were still covered in. He smelled good, like laundry detergent and some kind of musky cologne, and you took a deep breath. The smell settled into your lungs and your breathing calmed slightly. 

“Come on.” Travis pulled back slightly. “Let’s get you a new shirt, yeah? Maybe see if we can get the stain out of that one.” You were fairly certain that wouldn’t happen, but he was being nice to you for once. You’d take that for as long as possible. 

His room was just about what you’d expected. He wasn’t dirty, per say, but it certainly wasn’t spotless. His suit from the game the night before was discarded on a chair, and workout clothes sat in a pile next to the hamper rather than in it. Travis stepped through a door you assumed led to a closet, returning seconds later with a t-shirt and some sweatpants. “It’s on your jeans a little bit too, so if you give me everything I can get it washed real quick before the stain really sets in.” He was being weirdly thoughtful and you wondered if there was a prank coming. “There’s makeup remover in the top drawer if you want to use it. My ex left it in the bathroom one time and I never got rid of it.” He held out the clothes with a small smile. You took them gratefully, mumbling out a thank you as you slid past him and into the bathroom he pointed at. 

There had to be some kind of a trick involved. Your brain was going a million miles a minute trying to comprehend why Travis was suddenly being nice to you, and why he’d offered you clothes so easily. He was never this nice to you. To the guys, sure, and to others, but never to you. Still, clothes were clothes and he was offering to get rid of the stains. You’d take whatever you could get. Plus, you thought as you slid into the sweatpants, they were super comfy and they smelled like Travis. As weird as it was, the smell was comforting. 

A swipe of the makeup remover across your eyes removed the last of your makeup, and then you felt almost like yourself again. Well, other than the fact that you’d apparently entered an alternate universe where Travis didn’t hate you. Travis was waiting on the bed when you exited the bathroom, swimming in his clothes. He smiled softly at the sight, and your stomach twisted slightly. That look was new. He wasn’t supposed to be looking at you in a nice way, so what the hell was going on? “Uh, Travis, you good?” Travis jerked when you spoke, literally shaking his head to focus again. It almost brought a laugh out of you. 

He took your clothes before you could protest and began backing towards the hallway. “So, uh, I’ll go put some stainstick on these and throw them in the washer. Everybody else is filtering out, and, uh, we can get you home once your clothes are clean?” Travis nodded to himself and took off, leaving you standing in the middle of his room confused. Why in the hell was the cockiest person on the planet nervous around you all of a sudden?

Madison poked her head in as you remained frozen in the same spot. She smirked when she saw the clothes you were wearing, and jerked her chin at you. “You good here with Trav? Ivan suddenly wants to get home really really badly.” She winked conspiratorially, and you laughed. 

“Go ahead. Have fun with your boy. I’ll be fine.” Madison giggled, and then she was gone. You began to step towards the door, tired of standing awkwardly in Travis’ room. The sound filtering down the hallway was noticeably quieter than it had been ten minutes before, and you weren’t shocked to see Nolan was the only person besides Travis still remaining in the apartment. 

Nolan stepped in your direction with bright red cheeks and a sheepish expression. “Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry.” You shook your head as if to say don’t worry about it, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I’m gonna go, but I just wanted you to know that I didn’t mean to. And if your shirt is ruined I’ll get you a new one, I promise.”

You chuckled, pulling the taller man in for a hug. “It’s okay, Nols. I know it was an accident.” He mumbled another apology into the top of your head. “I just had a really shitty day, and for whatever reason that’s what broke me.” Nolan made a sympathetic noise and ruffled your hair. Travis appeared from the kitchen to bro hug Nolan, and then it was just the two of you. You looked down at your feet, rocking onto your tiptoes awkwardly. There were no more buffers. It was just you and this newly friendly Travis. 

“So,” Travis said, “a really shitty day?” Footsteps came closer as you continued looking down at your feet, and then Travis’ sock-covered toes appeared in your view. “I promise I just wanna hear about it. No funny business.” 

His face looked serious when you finally looked up. It was the concern in his eyes that had you opening your mouth. “I co-own a coffee shop with my cousin. I think Madison has mentioned it before?” Travis nodded in recognition, and you continued. “I normally don’t do a whole bunch behind the counter, because I don’t have the disposition to deal with assholes. I’m more of a numbers person, and she’s the customer service queen. She was out sick today, so I had to work behind the counter. We had a PTA group come in for one of their cliquey gossip sessions today, and apparently I am completely incompetent and can’t make a cup of coffee worth a damn.” Travis winced accordingly. 

“And then,” you continued, all warmed up and ready to rant, “I finally get home after working from about 4am to 8pm, and my roommate and her fucking boyfriend were screaming at each other. Again. That’ll be about the fourth fucking time they’ve broken up this month. It’s only the 20th.” He was a cheating piece of shit, but your roommate didn’t want to see that. It was frustrating to no end.

“I called Madison to see if I could stay with her for the night, since my roommate and her boyfriend will probably be fucking all night, and instead she drags me here, where I get to deal with some hotshot hockey player that hates my fucking guts, and then Nolan dumps half a fucking bottle of wine on me and all of a sudden you’re being nice and I just really need a hug.” 

You were wound up, breathing a little heavily, and Travis looked shell-shocked. Suddenly he stepped closer, and for the second time that night you were wrapped up in Travis’ arms. “I don’t hate you.” He squeezed you a little tighter as he spoke, as if to emphasize his words. “You do intimidate the hell out of me though.” You leaned your forehead against his chest contentedly, chuckling a little bit. “Seriously. You’re all smart and sexy and you own a fucking business. I’ve always just wanted to be your friend, but you never got along with me like you did the other guys.”

His arms loosened slightly as you jerked back. “I never hated you. I thought you hated me.” Travis laughed, shaking his head in slight confusion. “So we could’ve been friends all along, we just thought the other person hated us?” You felt a smile creep up your face. Of course this would happen to you. 

Travis held out a hand. “Friends?”

You laughed, gripping his hand with one of your own. “Friends.”