#they're the only thing i care about at the moment

[demonpoppyseed]

“I wanted to show you I was happy,” Armand said, the dissociation in his voice only illuminating the depth of feeling beneath. “Even though it wouldn't matter. Even though you wouldn't know…”

He glanced down at the dust on his shirt, the rubble on the floor all around him, as if noticing it for the first time. He began to struggle to his feet. Louis had cracked one of his vertebrae, it seemed. He wouldn't let it show on his face. It didn't matter – it would be healed before the sun rose.

Daniel held out his hand. Armand froze in a crouch when he saw it. He looked up without taking it, eyes shining with distrust and confusion.

Daniel scoffed.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Armand,” he said, shaking the hand at him. “Only one of us bites, and it's not me.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Armand observed. Any other human would have called it blithe. Daniel thought how strange it was, to be able to read someone so well without remembering all the practice it had taken to learn him.

“Had that argument a lot did we?”

Armand, whose eyes had wandered, faux-casual, to the windows, glanced quickly up at him again and then away. The moon was low in the sky. Louis would be feeling the pull of the coffin. Where would he sleep?

With a flick of the wrist, and without even looking at him, he answered Daniel’s question.

Daniel stumbled back, his hands, trembling violently now, flying up to his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but there was no stopping it – the images, sounds, sensations, flooding his every sense, as if he were living these memories all over again in the flesh, at a speed no human mind could process.

He screamed when the emotions hit him – lust, intrigue, fear. Anger, despair. Heartbreak.

He thought at first the hunger was the worst. He'd forgotten how entirely it had consumed him – hunger for experience, for sex, for his next fix. Hunger for Armand.

But it wasn't the hunger that brought him to his knees; it was the love.

“How long?” he asked. A small, detached part of himself still capable of observation noted with surprise that it came out a sob.

Armand looked down at his nails. He flexed his hand, watched the tendons move under his skin.

“Ten years,” he said. Then, seemingly unable to stop himself, the bitterness creeping in, “Ten years, two months, and one day.”

Daniel bowed his head down towards his knees and rocked, forward and backward. Tears flowed hot down his cheeks, dripping onto the worn knees of his jeans. This torment, this remembering, felt like nothing in his frame of reference. Later, when he would try to put it in writing, he would describe it as like every migraine he'd ever had hitting him all at once, layering over each other, building and building and building.

"Pain like a noise," he remembered Louis saying.

Armand glanced at him, too quickly for the human eye to detect, and then pretended that he hadn't. Daniel like this reminded him too much of their first meeting, the blissful feeling of not caring whether Daniel lived or died. He longed for it, that beautiful apathy. It had been so easy. He'd watched Daniel cry just like this and all he'd felt was a detached satisfaction, and a pinch of disdain. And all his anger at Louis, of course. But the point was, it hadn't hurt to look at him. It hadn't hurt to cause him pain.

I can take it away, if you'd prefer.

“Don't you fucking dare,” Daniel spat. “Don't you – Jesus, baby, I –”

He trailed off, disoriented. Armand huffed.

“It will settle,” he said. “You'll remember when you are in a moment.”

Daniel didn't think that was the source of his confusion, exactly. Already, his vision was clearing, and so he saw Armand hug his knees to his chest. He looked human, all of a sudden. The transformation would have shocked him less than an hour ago.

“You know what this means,” Daniel said solemnly, his voice strained, doing his mediocre best to close his mind and wincing with the effort.

Armand seemed to curl further into himself. Daniel leaned forward into his space, trying to catch his eye.

“You've been cheating on me since the seventies.”

Armand finally met his gaze, eyes flashing.

“I was with Louis for decades before I ever laid eyes on – are you laughing?”

“You're such a fucking drama queen,” Daniel said, wiping a tear from his eye, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I mean I'm shit at relationships, but you didn't think to, I dunno, fucking talk to me? No, of course not. Why have a conversation when you could just wipe your boyfriend’s memory, spend fifty fucking years drowning in romantic despair, and then bring him back around to rub his nose in how happy you are without him? But you know what the problem is, Armand? You never fucking broke up with me.”

Armand hissed at him, fangs bared. Daniel felt a familiar thrill run down his back and into his balls.

“You're trying to provoke me,” Armand spat.

“OF COURSE I AM!” Daniel shouted. “Fucking – fight back!”

The words had hardly left his mouth before his back hit the floor. Armand’s hand closed around his throat. Daniel’s reaction pressed, hard and unmistakable, against Armand’s thigh.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Call me baby again,” Armand said.

[03den]

bfhamzah headcanons - part 2 ( gnreader )

a.n: my god i was not expecting allat on my first post, thank uuu sm have some more fun w my rambling (slightly suggestive & reader is referred to as gf/wife)

part 1

in part one i briefly talked about how hamzah texts you a lot, and i stand my ground on that. he def spams you with the most random things. if he encounters a funny thing on the street, he immediately takes his phone out and sends you a photo. wait, did hamzah just thought about a really bad joke that is not funny in the slightest? he's proudly texting you it with no context at all. sometimes you're sitting in the same room, both on your silent phone time, and he's just repeatedly sending you brainrot reels, laughing to himself. oh, and you better watch them and the tiktoks he sends you, because he will reference them later and be dramatic about it if you don't understand it. "hi im ol- ol- oliver" "what?" "you don't know what i'm talking about? babe, no. i literally sent you the og tiktok!" ohh he's going to be salty about it.

onto that, i don't think he's the biggest pet name user. i think he prefers to call you by a nickname only he has for you—he thinks it makes him more special. once, martin tried to call you by that same nickname during a video, and hamzah just side eyed him and went "dude, no. stop.” occasionally, he will call you babe or baby in situations where he's attention seeking, half-asleep, high, trying to win your affection back after pestering you for too long... but that's also what he calls you during those moments, when his mind is foggy with different thoughts, and constant stimulation steal his ability to self-control. anything other than babe or baby, i can see it lowkey making him cringe

something corny that def doesn't make him cringe though is matching clothes—oh, this man loves it. and i don't mean subtle matching. yk those iconic t-shirts hamzah and martin constantly wear? the ones he buys to match with you are like that—white t-shirt with black letters saying 'i think they're hot' with an arrow each pointing to different sides. he for sure has asked you to wear that shirt with him for a youtube video, and made you sit so the arrow on his shirt pointed to you, and yours to him. has bought himself the ‘i love my gf’ black hoodie and wears the ‘i don't need an encyclopedia my wife knows it all’ t-shirt more often now that you're dating. don’t worry tho he let's you choose normal matching clothes as well

he can be a very silly bf, specially in public where he feels too exposed to be vulnerable, however, deep down he’s so so sweet, so caring. mumbled confessions against your neck late at night, hamzah tells you things weighted with such love it puts you under some daze. it’s not so easy for him to be in such vulnerable state, his words come out messy and shy, but the fact he tries nonetheless gives his voice a certain rawness—there’s no room for you to doubt his words

his heartfelt ‘i love you’s are always heard during these moments. repeated over and over, in between kisses, one no more genuine than the other. hamzah feels every word in ‘i love you’, and so do you, so they’re more reserved for times like these. that doesn't mean you ever separate ways without a quick "love you" with a peck though, that's an essential for him.

you are so important to hamzah, like actually so important it’s in everything he does. it’s in the way he does his groceries thinking about what you’d want, in case you come over; it’s in the way every other concern is pushed aside the moment he sees you; it’s in the way his house is covered in evidence of your presence; and in how he cannot stop posting you—be it on tiktok, youtube, or wtv

something else the fans noticed during a video is how he keeps a polaroid of you two on his phone case—a selfie of you next to each other, camera too close to your faces but that still managed to capture your laughing fit and his grin. it’s cute, and even tho it was a moment between js the two of you, the picture clearly conveys the love you have for each other.

after some time dating, youtube gets flooded with compilations of your relationship. ‘hamzah annoying name for 15 minutes straight’. ‘every clip of Hamzah being absolutely in love WARNING: long video.’ ‘moments where name and hamzah openly flirted in front of the camera.’

extras!

literally had no idea on what to put on the brainrot line.. i havent been keeping up w brainrot also im so obsessed with every photo of him included in this post

[kawhh]

Angry, dark, Quinn....I dare not speak. I think he would become so remorseful though. Especially if there's lingering effects of his behavior. His girl only speaks to him when spoken to, will gingerly sit on the couch or get in bed with space between them, involuntarily flinching when he tries to touch too fast. Like he wants to be dominant, but he doesn't want you to hide any thoughts or parts of yourself from him, he needs your love and attention more than air. He glues himself to you to refamiliarize you both with his touch and is near reverential.

He truly hates himself for how he reacted. The guilt makes him nauseous. He can't sleep. He can't rest. He can't get comfortable. He can't care for you. He can't soothe you.

It makes him feel like ripping his heart out of chest to escape the emotional agony. He's supposed to protect you. You're supposed to feel safe around him, to turn to him for comfort. For warmth, for safety.

You're supposed to just know and understand how he'd burn the earth for you. He'd do anything for you. He needs you. He'd suffer through anything for you. Drop anything for you. Quit his whole career for you.

The fact that he lost control over his anger? Lost control around you? Focused that towards you? Even thinking about it makes tears well up in his eyes, his arms shaking in panic. It almost sends him into a panic attack, how you're acting around him.

You look so scared of him. So small and afraid. Every noise he makes, you jump. Looking towards him like he's going to snap again. He doesn't know how to fix it.

You shrink in on yourself in bed, not wanting to touch him. Not wrapping yourself around him like you usually do. He can hear you whimper in your sleep. He's sleeping on the couch now, not being able to stand hearing you and doing nothing about it. Not wanting you to lose sleep with your worry of touching him.

The signs of the bruising from his grip.. they're still there on your skin. Every single time he gets a flash of one, it's like he's been shot. Feels like he's been shot. He thinks he would rather have been shot.

The way you'd usually lean into his touch - now you treat him like you're allergic to him. You don't start any contact. You don't even look like you want to. Every attempt by him making you freeze up, looking at him with that look that fucking shatters his heart.

He needs you. His possession over you isn't a one way street. He's supposed to provide for you. To make you laugh. To make you want to marry him. To give you every little thing you want in life. To be a physical shield for you.

He doesn't want to make you feel forced into forgiving him. He doesn't want to manipulate your emotions, make you feel trapped.

All he can do is spend every single moment of his time on his knees in front of you, speaking his regrets into your skin. Over and over and over again. Apologising, waiting for the moment you feel safe enough to speak up, to give him any hope of being the man he needs to be for you again.

[xylatox]

muddled hearts | xmh by the lovely altair! I'm so glad I finally get to read this, I'm such a loser for minghao fics.

Therefore, he didn't know your name or when you even got there. There hadn't been any murmur of a new girl, much less a pretty one – which was odd for the establishment. Full of meddling college students and a married couple who ran the place, there was bound to be some gossip. Something about your looks, your demeanor, anything – but no. Nothing had flown down the grapevine. — I already love this 🤭 Hao thinks reader is pretty hehe.

They looked at Minghao, who quietly loaded the shakers into the machine – wondering how he got you to speak to him.— loving that Hao is the exception and very convinced the other coworkers were just lowkey kinda mean ngl.

He soon learned that you did like to talk, you just had no one that you deemed worthy of your time. So when you arrived early on some shifts, you'd sit at the bar and ask Minghao things about himself. He'd gladly answer, mixing up non-alcoholic versions of his favorite cocktails for you as he talked in a soft voice. You both noticed the wandering eyes of your coworkers, but neither of you mentioned it to the other. — this is so cute I love them so much ah and it's only the beginning.

His fingers covered the edge of the bar so you wouldn't hit yourself, and you thanked him with a pat to his ribcage before slipping back out onto the restaurant floor with your pen flipping through your fingers like always. — physical interactions like this I always love like, it's something so simple but caring and it just warms my heart yknow.

Turns out that a bit out of the way for you, meant two blocks from Minghao’s apartment.  — fate hehe, cute.

I love them getting to know each other, like all the interactions thus far have been so sweet.—All you knew is that he was Xu Minghao, and if he was meant to break your heart – so be it.— not this being the way the first memory ends omg.

"Two things, gorgeous. Either your alternator is fucked and not charging your battery, or your starter engine has crapped out." He shrugged, and you couldn't bring yourself to react further than a groan. Your hands ran through your hair, and Minghao cooed lightly. — the pet name is driving me insane?? Neither of you worked tomorrow, so Minghao simply wrapped his arm around your shoulders (an act that neither of you would ever speak on, but made the both of you incredibly giddy) — the casual touches?? what if I go insane

You also didn't allow anyone else but Minghao into your life so closely. Only he knew where you lived, what troubled you, how your mother made you feel about yourself. Only he knew about your bad habits – your affinity for gossip, your extensive situationship issues with your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, and how you thought your apartment was entirely too expensive for a college student that was buying her dinner with coins. — omg Jaehyun mention?? (NCT??? I cannot help myself and think about him)

He didn't take you home. Instead, he drove around the city, his hand slotted in yours. It was nothing more than an attempt at a comforting gesture on his behalf, but you couldn't help the way your stomach fluttered slightly. You stared out the window as he spoke softly, telling you stories about his life and listening intently to yours. Eventually, the two of you wound up at a park you frequented as a child, one with a wishing well.  — going to sob, they're adorable. Also a moment to appreciate this beautiful writing like??

Hao inviting reader to his grad??? I'm soft. Jun and Hao!!! hehe I'm so happy they interact here. It's pretty sad how reader's parents didn't stay to take grad pics :((

So you figured your odd little crush was sorely misplaced – and added that you hadn't spoken to Jaehyun since the first time you slept over at Minghao's apartment was cause for the strange feeling of neediness in your stomach. Minghao was worth more than a rebound, and he was far more than you would ever deserve.— sobbing, tears. this is oddly sweet.

I love how it's mentioned reader becomes friends with Gyu, Tzuyu and Wonwoo after realizing they weren't a threat, like thats so cute.

"You're not me, pretty. And you're my friend, I'd go as far as even saying you're one of my best friends. I love you and I care about what stresses you out, and I'd give my left arm to make life easier for you." — this is so darn sweet what the hell.

Hao's flirting is absolutely killing me. THE KISS???? AHHHH he's so respectful when he realizes reader isn't ready wtf, I'll throw up.

Hao is so innlove with her :(( like — He pressed a kiss to your hairline, smoothing your hair down before slipping out of the kitchen. — on my knees.

Another moment to appreciate reader's relationship with Tzuyu, I love girl friendships. I love the more vulnerable moments reader an Hao share, especially after both are rejected from their grad programs:(

I love that we get this history of Cheol and Hannie's relationship too EEE!!

"Tell you what, pretty. I'll work my shift, and we can celebrate after. Just you and me." His hand squeezed your side gently, his eyes expectant of something – but you know you could say nothing and he'd still understand. He once told you that he thinks humans misunderstand almost everything… — they are so cute :(((((

"Because we're not together. We're friends, and we're roommates. We don't have that expectation of having to spend time together, because sometimes just brushing past one another when we're at work is enough. Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to pee but having to wait because he's in the restroom is enough. Sometimes walking to the laundromat together is enough." You shrugged, before sighing.  — she says this but says they aren't together in the same breath, they're practically married.

"I'm sorry for snapping. It wasn't my intention but I can tell I've hurt your feelings, and I never want to hurt your feelings." His voice was soft, and you felt your throat tighten slightly. You weren't too sure why you were even crying, maybe it was reminiscent of being scolded for trying to do the right thing. — no cuz I'd cry too, they're both too sweet for their own good.

"You're amazing, Y/N. Stop trying to put yourself down, or act like you're not someone who deserves everything. You're soft and sweet and one of the kindest people I've ever come across. You offered to work someone's shift on your day off, not because you want the money, no; because you want them to spend time together and help their relationship continue to flourish. You think anyone just does that?" He scoffed, and you cleared your throat, shrugging. — I'll sob, I love Hao sm.

You kissed his hairline, wishing him a happy birthday over a bottle of soju that he took two sips of. Two sips too much, as his lips ghosted over yours as you spoke to each other about nothing – too close, but he saw the way you held yourself back. He saw the way you wanted to kiss him, the way your hands clenched at your sides as you forced yourself to move away. — I will pass out.

"You are a tumultuous flame and if I get burned, so be it. If I let the heat of your fire singe me to death, it wouldn't be a death in pain. I'd let it happen, over and over." — they both are so effortlessly romantic and so good with words??

I love how the end starts like the beginning, they made me smile like an idiot . God, I loved this so much. Altair, it's always a pleasure to read your work!! This was absolutely wonderful.

muddled hearts 🍹 x.mh [m]

↳ part of the 'lonely hearts cafe' collab!

synopsis: things take a turn for the better when you finally find a roommate to escape your incredibly overpriced apartment, but you don't expect to ruin the only relationship that matters to you in the process. genre: forced proximity au. coworkers/friends/roommates idiots to lovers. angst, fluff, suggestive themes. pairing: bartender!xu minghao x fem!waitress!reader | side pairings: restaurant owners!jeongcheol ; bartender!seungkwan x waiter!hansol ; chef!mingyu x hostess!tzuyu (twice) word count: 24k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol (obviously??) mentions of food/eating. reader has a strained relationship with her parents. jeongcheol/verkwan/tzugyu are all plot devices. unspoken pining, kissing. what to listen to: am pm - jay b, wheein ; you and me - lifehouse ; runnin' - the pharcyde ; no one noticed - the marías ; have u found what ur looking for? - ashton irwin ; on the line - blood orange author's note: the loml and the haologram namesake has officially debuted on this blog! while i am not entirely satisfied with this piece, that's okay and i still love the idea i put forth and the way i expressed what i could on the time crunch i gave myself. i will likely work on a spinoff for this, or just something to delve more into their backstory and developing them. special thank you to my lovely beta readers @diamonddaze01 @lovetaroandtaemin @tomodachiii <3 please enjoy!

A YEAR AGO…

"I need a Guinness." That was the first thing you ever said to Xu Minghao. You'd been hired by Seungcheol, one of the restaurant owners, three weeks prior but hadn't worked a shift with Minghao yet.

Therefore, he didn't know your name or when you even got there. There hadn't been any murmur of a new girl, much less a pretty one – which was odd for the establishment. Full of meddling college students and a married couple who ran the place, there was bound to be some gossip. Something about your looks, your demeanor, anything – but no. Nothing had flown down the grapevine.

You didn't bother to introduce yourself, either. Your eyes were pointed until he quirked a brow, scoffing out a laugh and pouring the drink for you. He'd said nothing as you took it, skirting around several clients and even a busboy and delivered it with a smile on your face to the awaiting patron…

…Who slipped a tip into your apron with a greasy smile, and you kept yours on your lips until you were out of the patron's line of sight. Then, tucked into the serving staff's corner, he saw the way your shoulders sagged, a look of disgust on your face as you shivered. He clicked his tongue to himself, but filed the vision away to the back of his mind. 

He spent the rest of the night silently giving you the drinks you asked for, or speaking to his regulars as he made your cocktails. You always waited patiently, your fingers spinning your pen expertly as you watched over the patrons of the restaurant. He watched the way you sped past everyone, wormed your way through gathered crowds, and even ducked under trays being carried by your fellow servers. 

You got your job done, and you got it done fast – your patrons visibly happy with your service and your apron slightly overflowing with tips when you slid behind the bar and tucked them into your lockbox without a word to him.

It wasn't until you bid your last patron a good night that he saw your shoulders relax, your fingers yanking the elastic out of your hair and shaking it out. The relief on your forehead was noticeable as you walked back to the bar, opening the fridge behind him and grabbing a can of the orange juice he used for some of the cocktails on the menu.

"D'you mind? I know they're counted." He shook his head as he skirted past you with his tray full of cups, the glasses clinking against each other while he made his way to the back. Your fellow servers were gathered around the heat of the kitchen, leaning against the wall or stretching their overworked limbs. He kept to himself, hearing them whisper about the new girl.

"She's so pretty." "Yeah, but she doesn't talk. I tried to talk to her back here a couple times, and she just keeps it short." "She's here to work."

"So am I, but at least I'm not rude." He set his dishes into the washer, cursing to himself when he realized he forgot his shakers at the bar. He was about to start the cycle when he heard the soft clanking of metal against metal, seeing your closed can of orange juice tucked into your shirt pocket as you held out his tray of shakers. 

"Thought you might need these, wouldn't want you to make unnecessary trips."

He thanked you with a smile, taking the black tray as you cracked open your can, shrugging as you turned on your heel and walked away. The servers looked appalled as you grabbed the sanitizer spray before walking out of the kitchen, a rag already hanging from your belt loop. They looked at Minghao, who quietly loaded the shakers into the machine – wondering how he got you to speak to him.

The answer was plain and simple – he was a crucial part of the services you provided as a waitress. You clearly didn't need help with your tables: he watched how easily you maneuvered through picky eaters and entitled elderly women, all in one night. He saw how you smiled and greeted people warmly and enthusiastically, something the other servers weren't very good at but hey — a buck is a buck.

He wormed back out of the kitchen amongst the whispers, rolling his eyes as he stretched his arms over his head. You were wearing headphones, nodding your head along to something as you wiped down every table and chair.

He slid back behind the bar and started his own closing duties, but he took a moment to take you in fully – the soft slope of your nose, the way your brows furrowed as you ran your rag over particularly sticky spots. The purse of your lips as you mouthed along to whatever it was that you were listening to.

"Do you need any help?"  

You were in front of the bar now, holding one of your earbuds in your hand as you raised a brow at him. He shook his head before extending his hand out to you.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Minghao."

You were wary as you shook his hand, but your grip was nice and firm as you did so. 

"Y/N. Sorry if I was kind of emotionless during the shift, it helps me focus better if I'm not talking to people while I work." He shook his head again, as if to say no worries, before reaching under the bar and pulling your lockbox for you. You thanked him softly as you took it in your hands, walking away towards Seungcheol and Jeonghan's office to do your tip-out for the night. He finished his duties quickly, even managing to rearrange the cups and shakers for the morning bartender as the servers came to him one by one and gave him his share of their tips.

Until you came back out with a soft smile on your lips, your hair now loosely tied up and your apron slung over your shoulder as you held a wad of cash out to him, far thicker than any of the other servers. He'd been counting the leftover mixers, crossing out your orange juice as a markout as you slipped the money into his hand.

"For your help. Thanks."

"It's my job, no need to thank me." "Doesn't hurt. Have a good night, Minghao." "You too, Y/N." He smiled back as you finished what was left in your can of juice, tossing it as you made your way out of the building. He followed shortly after, walking out a few of the other servers to their cars in the parking lot for good measure. He never really spoke to them either, despite having worked with them for a little over a year – but he was a gentleman if nothing else.

The next few shifts he worked with you were like that, too. You'd smile at him a bit and ask for things with a nicer tone of voice. He still delivered and watched you from afar, slightly amazed at your abilities to satisfy all your patrons – couples, families, even that one elderly woman who always sent her steak back because it was never done well enough…she hadn't sent it back the night you served her.

You always walked out first, handing Minghao thick stacks of cash and stealing cans of orange juice. It got to the point where he would set yours aside from the counted lot, marking it out in the system before they shut down for the night. The other servers watched your interactions – short and sweet, but still far more than you'd ever attempted to interact with them.

He soon learned that you did like to talk, you just had no one that you deemed worthy of your time. So when you arrived early on some shifts, you'd sit at the bar and ask Minghao things about himself. He'd gladly answer, mixing up non-alcoholic versions of his favorite cocktails for you as he talked in a soft voice. You both noticed the wandering eyes of your coworkers, but neither of you mentioned it to the other.

He noticed that you never answered any questions about yourself, opting to spin the question back on him. He let it slide, but he knew you understood that eventually, you'd have to open up, too. When you did decide to do so was completely up to the universe.

It wasn't until the compliments started that the two of you really started talking – it started as something subtle and quiet. Minghao commented on your earrings or choice of lipgloss, and you said you liked his hair and the way he styled his jewelry. You would both laugh over light coworker gossip or comments about how easily Jeonghan got under Seungcheol's skin. 

You started greeting him when you'd swing by the bar for any alcoholic beverage, and he'd pause his flirting with his regulars to give you his undivided attention. This is how you learned that he had a way with body language – his eyes were always grazing over someone's face, his shoulders set back in confidence, brushing his fingers lightly over whoever was grabbing their drink.

This included you, but neither of you said anything about it. You'd let his fingers swipe over yours occasionally, choosing to smile and thank him as you went about your shift. The regulars noticed the way his attention was no longer fully on them, and some complained, but some spoke directly to Minghao about it – saying how cute it was for him to be crushing on the new girl.

He wasn't, but he didn't care to clear it up if it meant it got you more tips.

One night, things were as normal – it was a busy Friday evening, and you slid behind the bar to stuff your cash into your lockbox for the third time before closing. His fingers covered the edge of the bar so you wouldn't hit yourself, and you thanked him with a pat to his ribcage before slipping back out onto the restaurant floor with your pen flipping through your fingers like always. He watched you zip around, smiling widely as you took orders, casually flirting with patrons around your age, taking group photos with cell phones and cameras. 

You stole your can of orange juice, helped Minghao with his dishes and did your closing duties. You got tipped out by Jeonghan and gave Minghao his share, bidding him a good night before waltzing out of the restaurant. You skipped to your car, expecting a smooth drive home and ending your good night on your comfy couch with a Pilsner and a bag of chips…

When your car simply wouldn't start.  No big deal, you'd told yourself. You tried turning your headlights on, but nothing happened. This could mean one of two things: your battery had crapped out and just needed a jump, or tonight was just the night you'd be walking the twenty blocks home. You clicked your tongue before sighing and resting your forehead on the fuzzy steering wheel cover.

Minghao had watched this entire ordeal from the door of the restaurant, finishing a conversation with Seungcheol before stepping out and calling out your name. Your ears perked up, your eyes tired as you looked up and saw him walking over. He smiled as you pouted, opening your car door and explaining the situation.

"Not a problem, I can give you a lift." "I couldn't ask you to do that, Minghao." "You're not. I'm offering."

It went back and forth like that for about ten minutes before Minghao reached out and plucked your keys out of the ignition. You huffed as he jingled them, throwing your apron over your shoulder and manually locking all your doors before slipping out.

“I live a bit out of the way.” “I do, too. Don’t worry about it.”

Turns out that a bit out of the way for you, meant two blocks from Minghao’s apartment. 

It also turns out that the two of you had much more in common than just working at Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s restaurant.

You both loved art, fashion…the idea of flirting and making people think something was going to happen. You were both studying but at two different universities, and worked at the restaurant to save money for graduate school. He finds out that you're almost too big of a Bloody Mary fan, and nothing stops you from yucking a Piña Colada enjoyer's yum. He doesn't drink, and the revelation makes you snort, until you realize he's serious and roll your eyes subtly.

And all of this is something you find out as you sit in his car outside of your apartment complex, the heat cranked up and his radio playing AM PM by Jay B and Wheein on the lowest volume. He speaks softly, just like he does at the restaurant – and you notice his eyes almost glued to your face as you reciprocate. A few shy laughs are shared until he says something about Mingyu and his habit of stealing cheese curds off the customer trays, making you snort and hit your head on his window. He apologizes profusely but the sentiment is waned by his own rickety giggle, making you flush embarrassedly and shove him lightly.

The night ends when he offers to walk you up to your apartment, but you decline, holding your purse tightly. He still gets out of his car, perches on the hood and watches you duck into the heavy greenery that ornaments the entryway, hearing your work shoes click against the cold cement steps. He waits at least ten minutes before leaning back on his car, taking a deep breath in the chilly November air and pushing off. He slides back into the driver's seat, not noticing the way you look down at him from your second floor apartment. You peeked at him through the wooden blinds of your bedroom, the soft thundering in your chest something you couldn't figure out.

All you knew is that he was Xu Minghao, and if he was meant to break your heart – so be it.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO…

"Need a ride?"

You scoffed to yourself, hearing Minghao's voice across the parking lot. Your shoulders were slumped, your head resting defeatedly against the steering wheel of your 2002 Nissan that once more, refused to start. Why? You have no idea.

"No. It'll start. It has to start." You muttered back, seeing him approach the side of your vehicle. He dons a sympathetic smile as he leans in the window, his fingers grazing the fuzzy leopard print wheel cover. You ignored the manicure you'd been admiring your entire shift, the blotted maroon a perfect tone against his skin – and cranked your ignition.

Chchchch.

"Try again." Chchchch.

He glanced up at you before unlocking your door from the inside and yanking it open. He reached under your dash, popping your hood gingerly and snaking out from under the steering wheel. You only eyed him tiredly as he slid in front of your car, setting your hood up on the prop rod and tinkering around. You couldn't help but let your eyes close slightly, the soreness in your muscles taking over just as he popped back into your window. You jolted out of the light slumber, the crease between your brows deepening in the stark spring moonlight.

"Two things, gorgeous. Either your alternator is fucked and not charging your battery, or your starter engine has crapped out." He shrugged, and you couldn't bring yourself to react further than a groan. Your hands ran through your hair, and Minghao cooed lightly.

"C'mon, I'll give you a lift home. We'll get Cheol to pay for a tow." He wiggled his brows, making you let out a noise of amusement. You sighed, nodding silently as he once more took your keys out of the ignition. You grabbed your items, swinging your apron over your shoulder and locking your doors manually before slinking out and letting Minghao shut your door. 

You shook your head in disbelief, absently resting your forehead against his bicep with a sigh.

"I'm so tired."

Apparently, tired meant that you were almost about to fall asleep standing up. Neither of you worked tomorrow, so Minghao simply wrapped his arm around your shoulders (an act that neither of you would ever speak on, but made the both of you incredibly giddy) and led you to his car. He opened the door and helped you climb in, even going as far as buckling your seatbelt for you despite your whining protests that you could do it yourself.

"I know you can. Just let me help you, yeah?"

You gave in without a second thought, your eyes fluttering shut as he slid into the driver's side and started his car. You had turned your head towards him and muttered some words quietly.

Something that sounded like thank you, followed by a slightly more intelligible string of words.

"If I fall asleep, I give you full permission to leave me on my doorstep like a package."

He only snorted, knowing he would not ever do that to you. Rolling his eyes, he fiddled with the radio, hearing You and Me by Lifehouse playing on his favorite station. He kept it on as he pulled out of the parking lot, seeing Seungcheol staring in his direction with wide eyes as he walked Jeonghan to their shared car. Minghao only shrugged, waving quickly before turning out into the street and driving down the road.

It was peaceful, watching you sleep. The way your lashes kissed the fat of your cheeks, the way your lips were pouty and he resisted the urge to wipe your chin of a bit of drool that had begun to spill out. He bit down on his lip to hold in his laughter as you stirred, your thumb instinctively coming to your face to wipe at it. You peeled your eyes open, the whites slightly bloodshot and your face contorting in the soreness you felt. "Long day, huh?" He whistled as he flicked on his turn signal, and you only managed to hum in response. You blinked at him, his eyes catching yours as you stared into him. He raised his brows in confusion, and you shrugged your shoulders as much as your fatigue allowed.

"Why are you so nice to me, Hao?"

He only smiled, clicking his tongue as he took the turn down the creepy backroad neither of you liked and often discussed when you had some down time at work. "I thought we were friends, Y/N?"

He saw the way you leaned your head back on his headrest, nose scrunched as you began to settle deep in thought. Were you friends? He thinks so. He thinks setting aside your daily orange juice can means that he's your friend. He thinks giving you lifts home, means that you trust him. That's a crucial part of friendship, isn't it? Trust?

Maybe the subtle flirting he'd been dishing out wasn't so friendly, but he certainly desired to be your friend. He liked your eager conversation, a drastic change in comparison to how stoic you had been upon first meeting him – and how uninterested you were in everyone else you worked with. Aside from Mingyu in the kitchen and Tzuyu the hostess, you had absolutely no interest in talking to anyone but Minghao.

You also didn't allow anyone else but Minghao into your life so closely. Only he knew where you lived, what troubled you, how your mother made you feel about yourself. Only he knew about your bad habits – your affinity for gossip, your extensive situationship issues with your ex-boyfriend, Jaehyun, and how you thought your apartment was entirely too expensive for a college student that was buying her dinner with coins.

"I guess you're right. We should hang out one day, instead of just you giving me pitiful looks when my car craps out on me."

Your tone had been light, but he knew you weren't joking. No matter how often this happened, you insisted what Minghao was dishing out was pity. It wasn't – it was a break. A chance to worry about things later, or tomorrow, because he also understood what it was like to be stressed. He also understood what it was like to have a car let him down time after time, but he had had no one to take that mercy upon him. He'd walked home in pouring rain, risked getting sick, slipped one too many times.

A favor, was what he was offering, if anything.

You just didn't know how to accept help. It was one of your flaws that made itself known without a single word from you.

"I'm free tomorrow. I don't work; I took the day off." "I'm free, too. I'll text you when I wake up. Maybe we can get brunch?"

You would not end up texting Minghao, because you were knocked out – too knocked out to be woken up – by the time that the two of you reached your apartment. He knew your keys were in your purse, but after three attempts at waking you up, he gave up. He drove the two blocks to his complex, snagging the perfect spot in front of his entrance.

He hadn't been too sure of what to do, so he left you in his car with the engine running to duck into his apartment – returning within a few minutes with a pair of blankets for you and him. He opened your door and leaned your seat back slowly, before throwing the blanket over you and moving your belongings to his backseat. He climbed back into the driver's side, scrolling on his phone for a bit before peering over at you. Still sound asleep, as the clock struck midnight. 

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment.

A moment turned into three hours, when he heard your phone start ringing in the cupholder. It jolted him awake, his eyes narrowed as he read the blurry name out – Jaehyun.

He declined the call. Once. Twice. Six times, he declined Jaehyun's call. He turned your phone off after that, but you had stirred enough from the sheer sound of him fumbling around. Your eyes were bloodshot as you blinked before realizing you were still in his car.

"Shit, I'm sorry. Have we been here long?" He only smiled, gesturing at the blanket on your body. Your eyes widened as much as they could in their sleep-swollen state, before he flashed his phone screen at you.

3:13am.

"Hao! Why didn't you wake me up!?"

"I certainly tried. I drove around your complex twice before deciding it was futile. We're outside my apartment, if you want to crash here. I'm in no position to drive now."

You had scoffed tiredly (read: with embarrassment), before the urge to stretch took over – the blanket slipping down your legs as you twisted your torso and popped your back. Minghao only giggled tiredly, letting you pout at him.

"I don't have a toothbrush here."

"I have spares for guests. And I have a guest room, so it's not like you'd be taking over my couch or anything. There is always going to be a special space for you, you're my friend."

And you wanted to be his friend so badly.

"Fine. But I'm buying breakfast." "Sure, whatever makes you feel better."

You did not end up buying breakfast. In fact, after you allowed Minghao to help you get situated in his guest room, you didn't even wake up until well in the afternoon. The soft sheets, the absolute dream of a mattress…

The gentle scent of his detergent on the clothes he made you wear to bed while he stayed up an extra two hours – washing and ironing your work uniform. He even took your socks.

Granted, he also did not wake up until late that day. The two of you jerked the doors of the respective rooms open within five minutes of each other, Minghao sluggishly standing in his kitchen with his forehead against the cool steel of his fridge. He held a carton of eggs in his hand, your mouth occupied by the toothbrush he'd given you the night before.

"Eggs?" "I don't even want to cook, I just want to order in." "My treat. Consider it a thank you for letting me crash here." He had looked up then, a quirk in his brow as his lips twitched into a small smirk.

"Don't thank me for being a good friend. That's what you're supposed to do, Y/N."

He didn't allow you to pay for delivery. He didn't even allow you to bicker with him when he shoved you into the bathroom, insisting you shower while waiting for the food to arrive. He was a bit like a parent in that sense – forcing you to take his help and hospitality – and even offering to blow-dry your hair when you exited the bathroom in yet another set of his loungewear, the sweatpants low on your hips as you sat down in front of him and allowed him to do as he pleased.

Something about the domesticity of Minghao brought you comfort. He was gentle and kind, and entirely way too nice for your own good. You had this idea that you had to earn niceties, and Minghao was actively challenging that perspective with the way he wormed himself into your heart. Unlike the parasite, though, you were sure that loving him in whatever matter presented itself would not kill you.

He attempted to drive you home around midnight, the two of you far too excited to let the night end – when your phone began ringing again, this time as he pulled into a gas station. He sighed, "Take care of that. I'll be back."

Your ex-boyfriend told you he was at your apartment and asked why you weren't answering the door. You admitted that you weren't home and insisted that he went home – that you weren't interested in seeing him. He took it pretty hard, trying to convince you that he wanted nothing more than to see you, but Minghao arrived just as you snapped on him and told him that this odd situation was not working in anyone's favor.

Jaehyun insisted that he still loved you – but you said you wouldn't be seeing him again and hung up. You blocked his number before the bombardment of texts could flood in, resting your head against the seat and sighing. You gave Minghao a worried look, earning a soft laugh from him as he reached over and ran his fingers through your hair.

"Everything is going to be okay in due time. We'd be nothing in life if we didn't struggle a bit." He didn't take you home. Instead, he drove around the city, his hand slotted in yours. It was nothing more than an attempt at a comforting gesture on his behalf, but you couldn't help the way your stomach fluttered slightly. You stared out the window as he spoke softly, telling you stories about his life and listening intently to yours. Eventually, the two of you wound up at a park you frequented as a child, one with a wishing well. 

The two of you got down and headed straight for that well, Minghao holding a few coins he was willing to part ways with in his hand. He gave you half of them, telling you to make your wishes as he thought of his. He watched you intently, your eyes closed and thick lashes fluttering against your cheeks, lips pouty as you murmured to yourself. He was barely able to hear you, leaning a bit closer.

"I wish to be happy."

He closed his eyes after hearing that.

He knew in his heart that he couldn't be solely responsible for your happiness, but he could certainly aid in it. He was your friend, and he was determined to see that wish come true, even if it meant sacrificing his own time and energy to see it happen for you. Be it what may, he was hell-bent about it, within seconds of hearing you say it.

So much so, that when he dropped his 500 won coin, he too wished for you to be happy.

It was the least he could do at that moment.

He actually drove you home after that, and you invited him in. He stayed for all of two hours, just talking to you and keeping you company as you settled things around your apartment. Once more, the topic of rent being way too much came up – and he asked if you wanted a roommate.  You had snorted, insisting that you could handle rent on your own.

Minghao went home that night with another plan in mind.

SIX MONTHS AGO…

"Graduation is coming up. I know we've only just started getting close, but I got you a ticket to mine in case you'd like to be there." The casual comment had made you choke on your strawberry lemonade. He offered a napkin, smiling mischievously at you as you scoffed, wiping your lips carefully. He'd invited you out to lunch on yet another day off, but this time, the two of you were nicely dressed up. So much so, that your waitress thought you were a couple on a date. Neither of you made the move to correct her.

"Minghao, you can't just say that so casually." You muttered, but there was a twitch in your lip that gave you away. He caught it almost instantly, reaching into his bag and pulling out your ticket – watching you reach into your purse and pull his ticket out. Both graduations were on the same day, yours in the morning and his in the afternoon – just barely two hours apart. Enough that you'd be able to have a luncheon with your family and still make it to his right on time.  "You'll be celebrating with your family afterward, right?" "We're having a small party. A few of my friends will be there, and I'd like you to attend if it's possible. I know you probably have your own things to do."

You didn't, just the lunch. Something about your accomplishments was never enough for your family to celebrate, and they were of the breed that believed graduation was simply a part of life – nothing worth celebrating. Minghao didn't need to know that, though.

"Sure. I'll be there."

And it didn't take long for the day to spin around. You were dressed in your favorite white dress, covered slightly by your forest green graduation gown. Minghao met your family – your mother giving him a quick smile before tugging your father into the stadium. You offered an apology and said that one of your lifelong friends, Junhui, would be arriving soon, and Minghao could sit with him. You stuck around until he did, introducing the two and scurrying away to get set up with your classmates.

Funnily enough, Minghao and Junhui hit it off really well – so much so that when your name was called and you crossed the stage, they cheered so loudly that your parents looked away in embarrassment. You beamed up at your friends, waving excitedly and hopping down to your seat. The ceremony was over quickly, and your parents were nowhere to be found for photos.

It bummed you out, and your friends both noticed. You called their phones relentlessly, to no avail – making Minghao and Junhui take you to lunch on their own. You still enjoyed it, but they could tell that you were not happy. Neither of them made a statement, but Minghao managed to find a last minute ticket for Junhui to attend his graduation with you and invited him to the party as well.

You and Junhui sat in the stands an hour later, holding a huge bouquet you'd ordered a few days in advance – and sat with his parents, who eagerly admitted their glee in Minghao finding friends so easily. You enjoyed the pride his parents had in their son, feeling the same love that Minghao so eagerly poured over you with no remorse. You could tell how loved he had been growing up, how every single part of him was a part of them and then some.

How Minghao was truly someone made of love, by love, for love.

You cheered loudly with his family as he crossed the stage, finding his eyes as he looked up. The maroon of his gown did wonders for his skin, and you hated the way your cheeks warmed as he winked at you. Junhui elbowed you lightly, a knowing look in his eyes that made you scoff and shove him softly.

"We've been friends since we were kids, Y/N. You don't fool me."

However, it didn't stop you from trying. To you, Minghao was just your friend – you had no intent to ever take things further than that. Much like he slowly picked up on your flaws and bad habits, you did his – his subtle flirting with regulars, the way he had no shame in giving free drinks away if he thought someone was cute. It made you overthink everything about his way of acting with you – how easy it was to distinguish that he would never have a romantic feeling towards you if this was how he acted towards patrons.

So you figured your odd little crush was sorely misplaced – and added that you hadn't spoken to Jaehyun since the first time you slept over at Minghao's apartment was cause for the strange feeling of neediness in your stomach. Minghao was worth more than a rebound, and he was far more than you would ever deserve.

You spent the rest of the day enjoying delicious food prepared by his parents and spending hours dancing with Junhui and Minghao in turns. You blushed severely when Minghao's parents asked if you were interested in Minghao, quickly refusing the idea and insisting you were his friend and nothing more. You later saw Minghao blush all the same, his mother looking over his shoulder at you and making him do the same – before you saw his plush lips form around the negative response of No, she's just my friend.

You ignored the sinking feeling and focused on the party – with Mingyu swinging by for an hour before going back out to hang with his girlfriend, Tzuyu, and his best friend, Wonwoo (and they were all coworkers of yours that you allowed yourself to grow closer to after realizing they were no threat.) You took dozens of photos with everyone, had plenty to eat and reluctantly bid goodnight to a tired Junhui that drove back to his girlfriend's apartment after checking that Minghao would take you home. 

The two of you stayed for a little longer, watching all the guests leave. You walked around his parents' home and helped them clean up silently, hearing his mother praise you quietly to her son. Your refusal to acknowledge it made everything easier, grabbing an apron from the kitchen and tasking yourself with washing dishes alongside Minghao's father. He made soft conversation, and you understood where Minghao got his doting personality. It made you think way too hard about the man you called your friend to everyone's face, including his.

At the end of the night, you cried when Minghao presented you with a graduation gift in the privacy of his car – a pair of earrings and a lease. A lease to a two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bathroom apartment he found all on his own, after more complaints about your rent being too high came about. He admitted that he'd initially started looking for places solely for you, but later came to the idea that maybe you would like some company. He fully admitted that he would have no problem if you denied his request to be your roommate, but seeing as the two of you had also planned on going to graduate school…he thought that maybe splitting costs would be easier.

"You can say no. I know it's a bit presumptuous of me to jump the gun like this. I've already signed it, but the leasing office told me it was okay if I wound up taking the place alone. I just thought I'd run it by you."

You had only blinked up at him through teary eyes, your lips pouty as you whined.

"Why are you always so nice to me, Xu Minghao? I would've never thought to do this."

"You're not me, pretty. And you're my friend, I'd go as far as even saying you're one of my best friends. I love you and I care about what stresses you out, and I'd give my left arm to make life easier for you."

Anyone else would've seen this as an admittance of romantic feelings.

Anyone else.

"Minghao, I can't accept this." "Yes, you can. You don't have to be strong all the time. I'm here. I care. Just let me help you, okay?"

You don't know how, but just the soft lilt of his voice made you fold. You signed your name in blue ink that very same night and rode with him back to your apartment. You invited him in, the two of you tired from forced socialization and flopping on your couch. Neither of you said much as you scrolled through Hulu, your television lighting up your living room along with the few candles on your coffee table. "You never tried your earrings on." He muttered next to you, his eyes closed as you settled on Coyote Ugly. Your lips formed an O-shape, and you nodded as you dug them out of your purse. You popped the velvety box open, the diamond studs twinkling back at you. "Allow me." He leaned forward, plucking the box from your fingers and gingerly removing them from the backing. He watched silently as you took your signature gold hoops out, turning to face him with a tired smile on your lips. "Ready?" "Be gentle, I'm sensitive." 

He scooted slightly closer, nimble fingers softly tilting your jaw toward him. You ignored the way the hair on the back of your neck stood on end as he tucked a stray curl behind your ear, thumbing at your earlobe gently before slipping the earring through.

You heard him mumble to himself but didn't get a chance to ask questions as he carefully slid the backing on and quickly put on the other one for you. He nodded in approval, both hands brushing your face as he pushed your hair back. "You look pretty in diamonds."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as his hands left your face. You dug a compact mirror out of your purse, using the low light of the room to see. Long lashes fluttered in the reflection as you shifted the mirror around, your manicured fingers lightly tracing the shell of your ear as you took in the subtle sparkle of the gemstones.

"You didn't have to, you know. I didn't get you anything."

You slumped on the couch, resting the side of your head on one of the thick cushions while looking up at him. He propped his arm up on the back of the couch, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned his head on the palm of his hand. "Having you is enough. Did I tell you that I like your dress? I don't think I told you."

Your eyes only widened before you felt your cheeks heat and cleared your throat. You glanced down at your dress, the scattered sequins across the white dress glinting in the low light. An odd feeling settled in your stomach as you ran your hands down the fabric before looking back up at him to see his eyes boring into you.

Like he could see what you were thinking.

"You're beautiful, but I don't have to tell you that. You already know." He said pointedly, and you scoffed. You look away, turning your head to face the ceiling. You follow the slow spin of the fan, before you glance back at him through the corner of your eye. He's still looking at you, but with a soft smile and a raise of his brows as if he's waiting for you to tell him what's on your mind.

"You don't, you're right. Sorry." You muttered, crossing your legs at the knee. You could feel the soreness in your calves from being on your feet all day, the straps from your shoes so tight that they'd imprinted on your skin. Minghao shifted next to you, and you could feel the heat of his gaze raking across your face.

"Y/N?"

You turned to face him, "Hm?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "Nothing."

You scowled, sitting up quickly and tucking your legs under you. "I hate when people do that, Hao. Tell me what you were going to say."

He only chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back on your couch, tucking his hands under his head. "I wasn't going to say anything, sweetheart. Just…yeah."

"Xu Minghao." "Ooh, full name. Don't hurt me, I might like it." You gaped, smacking his arm lightly. He grabbed your wrist loosely, making you fail at biting back your laughter when his other hand tickled your ribs. "M-Minghao! I don't need to know that!"

"Don't you, though? I know that you like your hair pulled, you told me like three days ago when we were tipsy during movie night. Call it an even exchange of information." He nodded, and you only attempted to swat his hands away from digging into your ribcage as a scream of laughter escaped your throat. He grinned, pinning you against the cushion as you squirmed under him.

"N-Not fair! You're s-stronger than m–AH!" You choked on your own laughter, thrashing as he stopped, squeezing your sides gently with a mischievous smile painted on his face. The glint in his eyes made your stomach swirl slightly as he looked down at you, and it took a few moments for you to realize just how close his face was to yours. You didn't dare look at his lips, forcing your eyes to be glued to his as you swallowed quietly. He shifted back to sit down, allowing you to sit up slightly and clear your throat – when your eyes flickered to his lips.

Soft and slightly glossy from his strawberry lip balm. Lush. So pink and pretty and perfect.

"Y/N?"

"Uh huh?"

Your eyes darted back up to his, noting the soft blush on his cheeks in the low light of the television. He looked away, squeezing his eyes shut – when your body took over your mind, your hand softly tilting his jaw back to look at you. Your thumb ran across his lower lip, pulling it down slightly to watch it spring back, your eyes meeting his once more as you pressed the pad of your thumb onto his lips.

Something about his gaze made you feel insane.

And feeling him kiss your thumb while looking into your eyes made you break.

You leaned forward, holding his jaw gently as you pressed your lips against his chastely. He melted in slightly, his hand ghosting over your hip for balance when realization sank into your skin and you pulled away.

"Shit. I'm…Minghao, I'm so–" He didn't let you finish, rolling his eyes as he pulled you towards him by your wrist, kissing you with purpose. You only let out a noise of surprise as he practically manhandled you onto his lap, his hands moving to cradle your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you, his lips soft against yours and making you feel like your very being was about to combust into flames. You couldn't help but tighten your legs around his, feeling him smile against your lips with a soft laugh.

Your hands fisted his shirt as he pulled away from your lips, his hand moving to the nape of your neck and tilting your head back while the other splayed across your thigh. His lips trailed down your jaw, a soft mewl escaping your throat as he nipped at your earlobe.

"Sound so pretty for me, sweetheart."

The light scrape of his teeth against your neck doesn't allow for many words to slip from your lips, only a choked whimper as you carded your fingers through his hair, pulling slightly as he littered gentle nips across the expanse of your neck and chest. His hand in your hand moved to your back, resting just above the zipper of your dress when he looked up at you through his lashes.

"Can I–" "Yes." His fingers carefully pulled the zipper down, the tight flutter sleeves of your dress loosening around your shoulders and falling slightly. Your hand tugged at the knot of his tie as he reconnected your lips, his hands sliding around your waist as you pulled it off and tossed it to the side. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt as his tongue slips into your mouth, his hands moving down slightly and palming your thighs before moving back from your face.

“We should stop, shouldn’t we?” He mumbled against your lips, making you shake your head as your hands fisted his shirt, your thumbs tracing the pearly buttons. Your fingers pulled at the rest of the buttons, tugging the hem of the shirt out from under his slacks as he grabbed your wrists gently.

“Want you to touch me, Hao. Please?” Your voice had a hint of something a little desperate, that same hint shown as a glint in Minghao's eyes as he breathed heavily against your lips. You kissed him chastely, feeling him groan beneath you and let go of your wrists to run his hands up your thighs, his fingertips barely breaching the hem of your dress.

“Wanna feel you. Wanna taste you…fill you up…can I, pretty girl? Will you let me?”

You weren’t sure how you found your voice, but you squeaked out an excited yes anyway. The rest is a blur – him pulling your dress over your head and tossing it to the side, running his hands up and down your body as he meshed your lips with his with a hunger that you couldn't describe. His fingers were cool against your back as he undid the clasp of your bra, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as you whined against him.

"Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop right now." He mumbled, holding your bra together as he looked up at you. Uncertainty flashed in your eyes, and he gave you a soft smile. "Y/N, it's okay. Are you okay?"

He clasps your bra back, his hands moving to tug his shirt off his shoulders and drape it over you. You're silent as you shove your arms through it, and Minghao quietly buttons it for you, before tucking your hair behind your ear gently. "Hey. Talk to me, I'm here." He murmured, and you just tongued your cheek, running a hand through your hair.

"I'm sorry. I thought I'd be ready–"

"Don't. Do not apologize for not being ready, or changing your mind, or anything like that. Not now, not ever, and especially not to me. Okay?"

Your face burned in embarrassment, but it quickly slipped away as Minghao enveloped you in a warm embrace, your own arms wrapping around his neck as he held you close. "You deserve to be more than some rebound, Hao. I'm sorry." "Don't be sorry when there is nothing to be sorry for. We can forget all about this, you know? Just a little kiss. I'm sure lots of friends have kissed and moved on." You weren’t sure you could move on, not when Minghao held you until early morning, his breathing soft against your neck. Not when the two of you inevitably moved into your bedroom and slid under your bed sheets together, Minghao's arms wrapped around your shoulders and suffocating you with his soft cologne that you can't get enough of. 

You spent hours awake while he ran his fingers through your hair, just thinking about the way his lips felt against yours. You found yourself glancing up at him often, his face illuminated by the soft moonlight peeking through your blinds – only to see him staring at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you can feel the way his mind just empties as he glances down at you with the softest smile known to man.

"Sleepy?"

Your nod was false, but you didn't care – not when he sighed softly and pulled you into his chest with a mumbled good night.

"Goodnight, Hao."

As for moving on, Minghao wasn't sure he could, either. Not when he woke up in your bed the next morning, surrounded by your scent and your limbs and your skin stuck to his in a way that made him ache confusedly. Not when he was wearing a pair of flannel pajamas he never got back after that first time you stayed over at his apartment. Not when you were already awake, your eyes glued to the soft scar on his eyebrow before you noticed he was awake.

"Hey." "Hey, sweetheart."

Not when he watched you cook something light for lunch for the both of you, in his shirt that you have not returned since that night at his place. Not when you smiled at him with a glint of embarrassment in your eyes, but just barely hidden by comfort, trust, love.

Not when he felt his heart start racing in his chest as he said he'd see you later before he left, swinging his keys in his hand as you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"See you, Hao."

Yeah. Minghao doesn't think he can move on.

FOUR MONTHS AGO…

You and Minghao moved in as the summer grew hotter, the July air sticky as you bickered over whose couch was going to be shoved into the living room. Minghao lost the game of rock-paper-scissors, and his lip curled into a frown as Mingyu came with Tzuyu to haul his couch back to their apartment.

"And you haven't fucked on this, right?" Mingyu asked as he and Minghao took the cushions and tied them together, you and Tzuyu snorting over the jar of lemonade you were preparing. 

You and Tzuyu had become quick friends after you graduated. She helped Mingyu and Wonwoo plan the grand idea of throwing both you and Minghao a small celebration at Seungcheol and Jeonghan's house, inviting the entire staff and other straggling friends. The couple hadn't been too happy about how trashed everyone got and how you accidentally broke one of their lamps, but they congratulated you and Minghao on your graduations and gifted you both an expensive bottle of wine. Wine that you both shared when you got the keys to your shared apartment, tucked away in a cooler full of ice while you both tackled the deep cleaning of the new space. He took the front, and you took the bedrooms and bathrooms. You both emerged sweaty and sticky, grimacing at each other as you settled into Minghao's car on the way to buy paint for the bedrooms and wallpaper.

Neither of you have spoken about that night on your couch. Not that you had to – nothing more came of it. The two of you continued to work together in harmony, you hung out regularly, you flirted with customers – and you ignored the churn of subtle jealousy in your stomach when a customer got any sort of extra attention from him.

You ignored the skip in your heartbeat when his fingers grazed yours in handing you a drink, you ignored the way your stomach flipped during the many times he offered to tie your hair up when it got in the way. You especially ignored the whispers of your coworkers, ones that had only heightened since the party at your Seungcheol and Jeonghan's house – where Minghao was constantly checking in on you, bringing you drinks and adjusting your dress or hair.

So much so that when the party was over and it was just Seungcheol, Jeonghan, you and Minghao – Jeonghan asked. He asked if the two of you were a thing, and Minghao promptly peered over his highball at you. You just shrugged, the words stuck in your throat as Seungcheol shared a glance with Jeonghan.

They then did the diabolical, classic meddling-manager thing: they scheduled ALL of your shifts together.

It then seemed like the entire universe was forcing the proximity – because your car finally kicked the bucket. It would not turn on, not even after you begged Chan at the mechanic shop to give it a good knock on the hood. Because of this, you were now rendered carless – not that it mattered, because your new roommate had a car. Your new roommate, that was also your friend, coworker, and suspected partner by the married couple that owned the restaurant the two of you worked at. Minghao drove the two of you to work every day, his car once parked in front of your old apartment now sitting pretty in front of your shared one. It was domestic, how he slid in front of your apartment and still got out and knocked on your door to let you know he'd arrived – instead of just the regular I'm here text or, your least favorite, the honk. He opened your door, he let you choose the music, he rolled the windows down because you loved the free feeling of the breeze in your hair before you were ultimately forced to go into work-mode in order to withstand the berating of customers and the soreness in your feet.

Upon moving into the apartment, the two of you furnished it by splitting your belongings. Your walnut bookcases, his mahogany dining table. His Persian rugs, his television, his plants, his plates and cups. Your wall decorations, your handmade vases, your choice of wallpaper in the bathroom, your silverware.

His pots. Your pans. His blankets on the couch. Your couch.

"No, Mingyu. I have not had sex on this couch." Minghao scoffed, before peering over his shoulder at you and Tzuyu with a look on his face that reads: Can you believe this guy? You only shrug, biting back a smile as you slip ice cubes into the pitcher, facing Tzuyu. She's already looking at you, and she waits until you tilt your head in curiosity before she whispers.

"How long have you two been a thing?"

You almost choked on your spit. Her eyes were wide as she patted your back, giving a thumbs up to the worried men looking over their shoulders, pausing their unscrewing of the legs off the couch.

"What? Minghao and I are not a thing, Tzu." "Could've fooled me. I've known Minghao for years, and he's never even introduced us to a girlfriend of his. He's so private that way." She murmured, adding a few sprigs of mint into the glass pitcher. 

You glanced over at Minghao, who was listening to Mingyu talk about how Wonwoo got into a scuffle with Seungcheol over the missed truck order at work – when he shivered, his gaze flicking up to you. He gave you a quizzical look, before turning back to Mingyu and acting as if he was paying attention.

"I don't think Hao and I will ever be anything more than good friends. And, well, roommates now. This is genuinely one of the more refreshing friendships I've ever been in. There's zero expectations to be perfect or act like I care about the smalltalk that usually precedes friendships." You shrugged, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the lemonade. You weren't lying, per say. You definitely did not think things would advance between you and Minghao – he was far too…well he was…you know. Ugh!

Minghao was literally fucking perfect. That was the issue. He was perfect, from the careful styling of his hair to the way you'd walk into his bedroom to see him slathering lotion on his arms after a warm shower. And he wasn't just perfect physically, he would not have that mercy upon you – he was perfect on the INSIDE, too.

You'd only been living together for a few weeks at this point – but he'd kept the space clean, far cleaner than you had gotten yourself used to. Your bedroom was already a mess, clothes strewn everywhere, and you'd tripped over an unpacked box several times before kicking it to the side. But Minghao's? Pristine. Everything in its designated spot, his vanity clear of debris and a special spot for his skincare items. He kept a pitcher of water on his nightstand at most, the cup always half filled. His bed was always made neatly, his clothes tucked into his dresser and closet with the utmost care. At most, he'd have his closet door open or have a random jacket thrown over his desk chair – but he was your stark opposite.

"I don't know about that one, Y/N. I think this could be something good, but what do I know?" Tzuyu shrugged, grabbing the tray of glasses and tilting her head for you to grab the pitcher. You wanted to ask her what she meant, what she knew, but you didn't get a chance as Mingyu and Minghao carried the corpse of his stripped couch outside. You held the doorway open more, giving Minghao a quick nod as he wormed past you.

You tried not to look at the flexing of his shoulders beneath the black tank top he donned, squeezing your eyes shut and looking away when you heard Tzuyu snort. You peeled an eye open to see her smirking at you, shaking her head as she set the glasses down on your coffee table. You scowled, setting the pitcher down on the doily and laying on the floor next to the table, grabbing the remote for the television.

The coffee table was the only thing you and Minghao couldn't agree on, and decided to buy it at a thrift store. The one hint of togetherness thus far – as if the mixed aesthetics and belongings weren't enough. It made you laugh a bit, because you knew if and when you moved out, what would be taken with you.

It's like the coffee table is the dog that a couple gets before they split up. Who gets it?

"Y/N, can I see you in the kitchen?" Minghao's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you gave Tzuyu a pained look as you slipped the remote in her hand. Minghao had slipped into the kitchen already as you stood, quickly trekking the living room and sliding in on your socks. He grabbed his keys off the counter, having left them there earlier when he arrived with groceries, before Tzuyu and Mingyu came over for his couch.

"I'm going to help Mingyu get the couch set up at his place, we should be back before dinner. Do you want to order something in and we can pick it up on the way back? My treat." Minghao spoke with his back turned to you as he rummaged through the fruit bowl, before you heard the unmistakable crunch of an apple being bitten into. He looked over his shoulder, and you saw him holding said apple between his teeth, a jump of his brows prompting you to speak.

"You'll be a while though, won't you?"

"I'd never make you wait, Y/N. So? Think about what you want, and text me." He shrugged, ruffling your hair as you swatted his hand away, grabbing his wrist.

"Aren't they staying for dinner? Shouldn't this be a group decision?"

He only used your leverage on his wrist to pull you closer, leaning against the counter and wrapping his arm around your waist. Your eyes widened at the sudden proximity, and you felt your cheeks heat as he peered down at you through his lashes. He smiled at you, eyes searching your face before he clicked his tongue.

"Just tell me what you want, honey. I'll get it done."

He pressed a kiss to your hairline, smoothing your hair down before slipping out of the kitchen. You heard his gentle goodbye to Tzuyu, who hummed in response before the click of the door made his departure evident. Peeking out of the kitchen, you saw Tzuyu smirking to herself, shaking her head as she took a sip of her lemonade.

"C'mon, Y/N. You know you wanna tell me."

Her voice was sing-song, and you groaned inwardly as you walked out of the kitchen and flopped over the back of the couch. You flipped onto the cushions, landing on your back with a grunt from your lips as you draped your arm over your eyes.

"Tzu, nothing is happening between him and I. He is genuinely just my friend. Roommate. Coworker."

She didn't buy it. You could tell by the quirk in her brows and the pointed look in her eyes. She tapped the coffee table with the edge of her glass, swirling the ice before speaking.

"And soon he'll be your boyfriend, fiancé, husband. I have a hunch about these things, Y/N. I know love when I see it."

You only rolled your eyes, snatching the remote back off the coffee table. "Yeah, sure. What do you want to watch? And what do you want for dinner? Hao said they'd bring something back." Tzuyu didn’t push it as the two of you ended up settling on a random episode of Gilmore Girls. You mumbled at each other as you began to pass your phone between the two of you, looking at local restaurants when you heard a ding – a ding specifically applied to Minghao's contact.

"Nothing happening, huh?" Tzuyu wiggled your phone between her fingers, a notification from Minghao up top.

Msg From: Xu Minghao [5:43PM] sweetheart, did you figure out what you want for dinner? [5:43PM] we're almost done over here

You scowled, snatching your phone back as she giggled. "Sweetheart? I don't call my friends that." She teased, and you sighed. "Tzu, can we please drop it?" Your voice is unrecognizable to yourself, ridden with an oddly placed insecurity and Tzuyu's eyes widen slightly before she clears her throat. She nods, tapping the edge of her glass against the table again and looking down at your phone.

Msg From: Xu Minghao [5:45PM] quickly, please. [5:45PM] y/n i can see you reading these!

"I'll drop it for now, but please think about my words. I know it may be hard to believe, but I do think there is more to this than meets the eye. And…I support you, on whatever route you end up taking, in whatever way you end or begin this relationship." You couldn't lie to yourself, her words stuck with you for the rest of the evening. They rang in your head when the pair of men arrived with stacked plates of takeout, and they rang in your head as Minghao served your plate and forbade you from getting up for anything. They rang in your head as you and Mingyu washed the dishes, noting how Mingyu only referred to you by your name in your hushed conversation about you inviting them to stay for a movie.

Not like Minghao, who had even greeted you with a pet name.

They rang in your head as Tzuyu and Mingyu cuddled in the corner seat of your couch during the movie, your chest slightly pained as you noticed the cushion-sized distance between your thigh and Minghao's. They rang in your head every time you noticed Mingyu's lips on his girlfriend's hairline, on her cheek, on her lips…

They rang in your head as you thought back to the night of your graduation, how Minghao's lips kissed you just as gently, but in a way that made you think about it every waking moment of every day. In a way that made you glance at him from across the restaurant when Jeonghan was trying to get your attention to finish your tip-out; in a way that made you remain silent during the rides to and from work by his side.

In a way that made you touch yourself at night, thinking about him, about his hands on your body. So warm, so confident, so caring.

So loving.

"Good night, you two. Drive safe." You stood with your hands in your pockets, your shorts allowing the cool evening breeze to graze your legs. Tzuyu gave you a warm hug as Mingyu opened the door of his old pickup, her lips barely touching the shell of your ear as she whispered.

"Think about it." They drove off within the next five minutes, with you and Minghao standing next to each other in front of your apartment door, waving them off. You glanced up at him, a faint heat coating your cheeks as his hand ghosted over the small of your back, hearing the jingle of his keys being hooked onto your belt loop. You jolted at the weight, swatting him away as he snickered.

"Want to take a walk? The weather feels great."

You hated the way you agreed so quickly, tugging slightly at the neck of your t-shirt, too tight around your throat as your arms brushed. He stood on the side closest to the street, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants as he hummed.

"I got a letter back from the graduate program I applied to. I was waitlisted, so I think I'm going to withdraw and reapply next year. Gives me a chance to save some money, take out less loans." He grimaced, looking up at the darkened sky. You frowned, crossing your arms across your chest.

"I didn't get into mine, if it makes you feel better. I think I'm going to be taking a gap year, so much for being a therapist and letting my parents down yet again. Did I tell you that they told me I wouldn't even be a real doctor? Unbelievable." You sneered, and he shook his head.

"No, that doesn't make me feel better. You deserved to get in. I read your application essay, remember? You're brilliant. I could never imagine being on a board of admissions and not allowing someone with such a passion into my program." He scoffed, and you only snorted. 

"Passion, huh? Shit load of good it does me." You shook your head, kicking a bit of gravel as you made it to the corner of your block. You sucked your teeth as Minghao's arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his side slightly. "You'll have to admit that you're a good person with goals and dreams like everyone else at some point, you know? You've got a big heart, and you want to help the world. It takes a passionate person, a dedicated person, to work in therapy. Do you know how hard it is to sit and listen to people's problems all day and not bring them home with you?" "Bartenders are the therapists of the food and beverage industry, aren't they?" You teased, snickering as he lightly smacked his fingers against your shoulder. "Sorry, sorry." "But you're right, in a way. I do commend you, though, an incredible amount. And your parents…they don't realize what kind of person their daughter is. You're bright. You're kind. You're beautiful in ways I can't even begin to describe, and that doesn't even begin to cover your looks. So let's just…not think about their opinions. You're independent and strong, and I'm always rooting for you." His voice was soothing as he traced circles into your skin, the moonlight illuminating your path as you walked in lockstep with him. You sighed, "So what happens now? We just work our butts off at the restaurant and save our pennies?" "What better to do? We can even set up a little fund to take the odd weekend trip, if you'd like. Roommates do that, right?" He sounded quizzical, and you glanced up to see him already looking at you. Those eyes…

"Well, friends do that, don't they? We're friends before we're roommates." You tried, and he let out a scuff of a laugh, nodding. "Yeah, sweetheart. Friends."

You didn't understand why it pained you to hear him confirm what you already knew, but the stupid pet name sprinkled in definitely made the pang in your chest deeper than you'd expected. His hand was on your shoulder, ringed fingers now dangling over the edge and your eyes glued to the ground. You kicked gravel and dirt as the two of you walked, your tennis shoes scuffed from weeks of moving and roughhousing with furniture.

You were almost in front of your apartment when Minghao made a noise of eureka, his fingers squeezing your shoulder lightly as he spoke.

"Oh, I forgot to mention this earlier, but Jeonghan is asking me to take a few doubles these coming weeks because Seungkwan is going on vacation. They know that we carpool, so I should be able to swing by and bring you to work anyway, but I figured I'd let you know I'll be out of the house for most of the morning." 

You groaned, running your hand through your hair as you nodded.

"Yeah, Cheol talked to me about taking a bunch of morning shifts because Hansol is also going on vacation. I'm not bothered but…" You gave Minghao a wiggle of your brows, making him snort.

"You think they're going together? Romantic getaway…" He swayed you gently, and you snickered to yourself.

"Kiss, kiss, fall in love…sharing appetizers…" You chided as the two of you reached your door. Minghao unhooked his keys from your belt loop, unlocking the door as he shook his head.

"They do that eye-flirting thing, you know? Lots of shared looks, soft whispers and stuff. It's cute, they're a cute pair." He nodded, pushing the door open and allowing you in before he stepped in behind you. You hummed in response, beelining for the empty bags of movie snacks on the coffee table, crumpling them in your hands as you moved around. Minghao joined you, folding the blankets that had been thrown over Mingyu and Tzuyu's laps as well as your shoulders.

Neither of you spoke as you cleaned up the living room, the ending credits of the movie still playing as you stretched your arms over your head, holding the trash in your fists as you walked to the kitchen. You could hear Minghao continue to rustle around, the television turning off and the soft creak of the floorboards grabbing your attention as he skirted into the kitchen. "I'm going to be up early tomorrow, so I'm going to shower first. Is that okay with you?" He moved you away from the trash can, letting you lean on the counter as he took the lid off and grabbed the drawstrings of the bag. You nodded before realizing he couldn't see you and cleared your throat.

"Yeah, sure. That's fine; I have to fix up my bed and stuff in my bedroom. Take your time." You shrugged, watching the muscles in his arms flex as he pulled the trash bag out, tying the plastic drawstrings into a knot before fishing another one out of the box on top of the fridge.

"Are you settling in well? I haven't checked in about it. I know it's quite the drastic change to go from living alone to someone in your space all the time." He sounded sympathetic, but you only shrugged again.

"It's like freshman year of college again. Except this time, I actually like my roommate because you're not kicking me out at odd hours of the night to bang your boyfriend." You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. He nodded, biting back a smile when you elbowed him lightly, making him snort.

"I'd never do that. No need to worry about it, pretty." He placed the lid back on the trash can, lifting up the bag and skirting around you. "I'll be back in a second."

Said second turned into ten minutes. Ten full minutes where you rubbed your face in an attempt to bring back a touch of reality, something that would take the attention your mind loved to devote to pet names and affections from your roommate, your friend, your coworker, away.

They say your living space is a reflection of your state of mind. As you wormed your way through stacks of unpacked boxes, clothes strewn on the floor, old textbooks gathering dust in the corners of your room – you kind of agreed.. You grimaced, opting to kick everything out of the way and grabbing a box cutter off your desk and slicing through one of the boxes stacked by your closet. You reached to your desk, flicking the lamp on to see the contents of the heavily packed box.

It opened to photo albums and framed pictures, and you closed your eyes as your hands touched the familiar red leather of your family album. Photos gathered in the tens of you and your parents – at your favorite park in your hometown, at dozens of restaurants where you celebrated birthdays, your parents' anniversary…

A celebration of a perfect report card, time and time again before the 180 spin came, and your parents realized you were leaving your hometown for something bigger. A huge, fancy school in the middle of a metropolitan city, studying Psychology when your mother had pushed for Law or Accounting. Acting like you'd betrayed her trust – and as Mother says, Father does. He too, pushed you aside and acted like you'd scorned him. 

Neither of your parents were lawyers or accountants. They were both high school mathematics teachers, your father in statistics and your mother in economics. Neither of them had a passion for law or accounting – and they both knew of your interest in the medical field, in psychology and the brain.

You found it odd that the success that follows the title of 'Doctor' was not enough for them. That, paired with the rejection letter from your Masters' program, you felt like there wasn't any lower you could get. "Penny for your thoughts?" Minghao's voice was soft, but it still made you jolt and drop the album. You held a hand to your chest, before shaking your head.

"Nah. I'm good. Sorry, uh, about the mess." You gestured to the room, and he only shook his head, his fingers brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked around a bit. He leaned on your doorway, the hallway light only making your eyes trial his gentle frame.

"Your space, sweetheart. You do what you want with it. I'm going to shower now. Anything you need before I start turning in?"

You shook your head, tapping the leatherbound photo album before smiling pitifully.

"I'm good. Good night, Hao." You expected him to slink away, focusing your thoughts back on the album. You flipped through it, thumbing at photos of you in frilly dresses and Halloween costumes your mother would stitch by hand.

"You can talk to me. You know that, right?" Minghao's voice was right next to your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His hand was wrapped around the edge of your desk to keep himself steady, and your face was a bit too close to his as you turned to face him. He was illuminated slightly by the yellow light of your desk lamp, his eyes scanning your features.

"I know. I just…I know." You pursed your lips, casting your eyes back to the album in your hands. "I'll let you know if I ever need to…I don't know. Let off steam, I guess." Your laugh was soft and pathetic, and he hummed, before you felt his hand tuck a stray curl behind your ear. You glanced up at him, only to see him looking at you fondly. "Let off steam, huh?" "Shut up." "As you wish. Good night." He grinned, pushing off your desk and making his way out of your bedroom. 

You spent the next few hours listening to Minghao tinker around in the bathroom before the sounds move to his bedroom, your focus on unpacking the albums onto the bookcase tucked into the corner of your room. You picked clothing up off the floor, tossing the articles into the hamper and you forced yourself to organize your every thought when you heard it. You heard the soft sigh through the wall, and the groan from his throat as his back hit the mattress.

You screwed your eyes shut and grabbed your headphones from the nightstand, plugging them into your phone as quickly as you could before you could hear anything else. You took a deep breath, out through your mouth as the beginning notes of Runnin' by The Pharcyde filled your ears.

So much for good night.

TWO MONTHS AGO…

"I'm so fucking tired, I could keel over right now." Your forehead rested on the back of your hand, which held the ratty broom you used to beat Seungcheol out of a chair only moments earlier. Said man was now sulking behind the bar with Minghao, being comforted by the bartender with a fruity cocktail.

"Don't sulk, she's just doing her job." Minghao patted him on the back as the older man frowned, wrapping his pouty lips around the swirly straw stuck in the mango daiquiri. You glanced over your shoulder at Jeonghan, who was only shaking his head as he clicked away on the calculator with your tips surrounding him in neat piles.

"Honey, unless you want to sweep for Y/N–" Jeonghan started, flipping a pen through his fingers as Seungcheol shook his head, taking his drink off the bar and making his way across the restaurant. "Nope! I'll be in the office."

You snickered to yourself as you saw Jeonghan watch him walk away, eyes low and full of nothing but love. He rolled his eyes, drawing his attention back to the money on the table as Tzuyu slid into a barstool with her cheek in her hand. Minghao leaned over, waving his fingers in her face.

"Why so glum, Tzu?"

He stopped wiping the counter down to listen to her as you skirted your way over to Jeonghan, pulling the chair beside him out and slumping down into it. Jeonghan doesn't look up from the calculator, his fingers gingerly thumbing through the dollar bills when you make a noise of curiosity.

"Yes, Y/N? How can I help you?"

"How long have you and Mr. Choi been together?" You asked gently, watching Jeonghan bite back a smirk. He shakes his head, tilting it to the side before meeting your eyes.

"You don't have to call him Mr. Choi, Y/N. You can just call him Cheol."

"Fine. How long have you been with Cheol, Mr. Yoon?" You smiled cheekily, earning a scoff as Jeonghan flicked your forehead softly. "Jeonghan, answer the question!"

"We dated for three years before we got engaged. Then we were engaged for two years before we got married, and we got married two years ago. Seven years together and counting, unless you also involve how long he made me court him." Jeonghan's blush doesn't go unnoticed as he runs a hand through his hair, and you cooed.

"How did you guys meet?" Jeonghan snorts, tonguing his cheek before sighing and thumbing through another stack of bills.

"Any particular reason as to why you've got so many queries tonight, Y/N? You've been working here for almost a year and you've never cared before." His brow is quirked as you hear the heavy office door open across the restaurant, a flushed Seungcheol ducking into the kitchen with his empty cup. Jeonghan sends him a wink, making the older man shake his head in disbelief.

"I just think you guys are cute. You don't see many couples around here, the dating pool has gotten so icky." You scoffed, twirling the broom handle in your hand as Jeonghan hums in agreement.

"I've known Seungcheol since we were kids. We drifted after middle school because I wound up moving across the city, and we lost contact. We met up again here, in this restaurant, right before we were set to graduate college. Funny, really." Jeonghan smiled inwardly, watching as you leaned in slightly.

"You guys worked here together?"

"Yup. He was a bartender, I was a waiter." Jeonghan gave you a pointed look, before his eyes flickered to Minghao. The man was talking to frowning Tzuyu, his brows furrowed as he whispered what you assume to be his opinion on her dilemmas. "Cheol was actually really shy, believe it or not. He's not the big Rottweiler type, despite his physique. More like…a feisty barn cat." "So…you chased him? For how long?" You watched as Mingyu and Seungcheol walked out of the kitchen with their arms crossed, seemingly discussing something serious. Seungcheol's jaw was tight, and Mingyu's shoulders were full of stress as he draped his apron over one of them. Seungcheol glanced over at Jeonghan, a sympathetic look in his eye as he tilted his head in the direction of the office.

"For all three years that we worked here. And I continue to do it, he likes it." Jeonghan nodded, gathering your tips for you and snapping them together in a blue rubber band. He held them out to you, gathering his belongings in his other hand as you took it. "Of course, not every couple that gets together here, stays together. These walls have seen many of my fights with Cheol, and vice versa. There's no limit. Exhibit A." Jeonghan gestured to Tzuyu, who was angrily typing on her phone while Mingyu held back tears as he muttered back and forth with Seungcheol. Sighing, Jeonghan ruffled your hair before skirting away and meeting Seungcheol and Mingyu in the office. You stood, leaning your weight on the broom before feeling eyes on you.

Minghao was staring right at you, before his eyes flickered to Tzuyu. You grimaced, stuffing your tips in your back pocket before sliding up to the bar.

"So…what's got you so upset?"

"Mingyu." As it turns out, maybe the restaurant owner knew far more than he let on. Mingyu and Tzuyu had gotten into an argument while she helped him with dishes – about work. The two of them were stressed, knowing that they usually made rent with their hefty amount of hours at the restaurant – however, it left little time in the week for each other. Mingyu being the best cook of the three that worked at the restaurant made things even harder, seeing as he was constantly being called in if Seungcheol or Jeonghan weren't able to fill in.

It left Tzuyu feeling pushed aside, but Mingyu could argue the same. The last three hostesses that had been hired had to be let go due to their attendance inconsistencies, leaving Tzuyu to rush to work at the last minute. It created a small rift in their relationship, and Tzuyu finally gave the ultimatum: work or her. Mingyu hadn't replied.

No choice is a choice, a silent one. 

And usually, the wrong one.

"I'm sorry." You murmured, smoothing her long hair with your hand as she slumped against the bar.

"Why? If anything, I feel like we should be able to work through this. We should be able to find time for each other even with our busy schedules. You and Minghao can do it, why can't we?" She groaned, resting her forehead against the cold bar. You sighed, running your fingers through her hair when the office door opened again – Mingyu was sitting at the desk and frustratedly wiping his face as Jeonghan called for Tzuyu softly.

"Go. We'll wait here." Minghao assured her, crossing his arms on the bar as you nodded in agreement. She took a deep breath, trekking the restaurant quickly and ducking into the office as Jeonghan shut the door.

"What does she mean, you and I can do it?" You questioned, reaching into your back pocket and separating the bundle of bills that would go into Minghao's wallet. He shrugged and smiled softly, wiggling his fingers as you held the wad of cash out to him.

"It means we work well together. Don't you think we make a good pair?" Minghao raised his eyebrows at you, making you roll your eyes as you continued to sweep aimlessly around the bar. 

"I guess so. Hey, your birthday is coming up soon, right?" You crouched to get the swept trash onto the handheld dustpan, watching as Minghao shrugged again and turned to the cooler. He opened it, taking out your can of orange juice before speaking again.

"Hardly. It's barely September, my birthday isn't for another two months." He shook his head, and you scoffed as you made your way to the trash can. You dump the contents of the dustpan before glancing up at him with a suspicious look in your eye.

"Don't tell me you're one of those people that works on their birthdays, are you?" The way he tongues his cheek is enough of an answer for you, making you shake your head as you replace the broom and dustpan behind the bar. You skirt around him to the sink, washing your hands as you click your tongue. "That's not happening this year. We have to celebrate." "Like hell it's not. I make the most tips on my birthday, Y/N." He grabbed his jacket from the hook behind him, shrugging it over his shoulders as you dried your hands. "Plus, Jeonghan knows I won't take no for an answer when it comes to working on my birthday. I'll be here from five to closing."

You rolled your eyes again, before feeling his arm snake around your waist. It'd been almost a year of this – soft, casual touching, hushed praises, kisses to the forehead…

It was all so intimate. Nothing he did felt like friendship anymore, but you weren't complaining.

"Why do you care so much, anyway? You want to celebrate with me?" "Obviously, jackass. You're my best friend." You swatted him away, only to be pulled closer into his chest. You groaned, your hands splayed across his chest as he smiled down at you.

"What an upgrade, should I be honored?" You scoffed, pushing him a bit but he didn't budge. For a second, you think he glances at your lips.

"Tell you what, pretty. I'll work my shift, and we can celebrate after. Just you and me." His hand squeezed your side gently, his eyes expectant of something – but you know you could say nothing and he'd still understand. He once told you that he thinks humans misunderstand almost everything…

And sometimes it is better to observe, and listen – than speak.

"Get away from me before I twist your nipple off." You spoke through gritted teeth, only making him get slightly closer to your face. His lips nearly brushed your nose, and you narrowed your eyes as you pushed his jacket out of the way. He jerked away, crossing his arms over his chest and feigning a shocked look as you grinned.

"I cannot believe you'd hurt me! Wow, some best friend you are!"

"Are you always this dramatic?" You teased, sticking your tongue out at him as you skirted back out from behind the bar. He turned his nose up at you, waving you off with his hand. Your eyes darted to the maroon gel manicure you'd given him earlier that day, and you bite back your grin before taking your can of orange juice off the bar.

"Let's go, yeah? I'm tired." You pouted, shaking the can gently before tilting your head towards the front door. He huffed, tightening his jacket around his body as he sauntered out from behind the bar – nearly tripping when the sound of the office door being slammed against the brick of the walls startled you.

Tzuyu stormed out, her red coat held in her hand as she ducked her head down. Presumably to hide a face full of tears, covered by the swing of her caramel hair.

You looked back at Minghao, his eyes worried as he watched her slip out the front door. Mingyu appeared as the door nearly shut, with Jeonghan and Seungcheol holding guilt in their eyes. "I'm sorry, Mingyu. If we had known–" "You couldn't have. It's fine. I'll figure it out." Mingyu looked defeated, and you elbowed Minghao lightly as he sidled up next to you. "Drive Tzuyu home." You muttered, tucking your orange juice in your shirt pocket as Minghao swung his keys.

"Divide and conquer, huh? I'll see you at home, pretty." Minghao ruffled your hair, before quickly pressing a light kiss to your hairline. "Be safe, okay?"

He was gone before you could say anything.

You sighed to yourself, seeing the three men in the office watching Minghao slink out without you. Jeonghan looked around Mingyu's frame, his brow raised as you winked, cracking open your orange juice and walking towards them.

"Gentlemen. It appears my chauffeur has taken his leave without letting me know." You shrugged, and Mingyu sighed as you held your hand out. The friendship between the two of you had grown exponentially during the last few months, and you found yourself gossiping with him in the kitchen if Minghao was busy or Tzuyu wasn't at her podium.

He handed his keys over without a word, Seungcheol's eyes full of guilt as he patted the younger man's shoulder. "We'll see you next week, Gyu." You didn't bother with goodbyes, the married couple giving you curt nods as they followed behind you. Minghao's car was no longer in the parking lot, and you beelined for Mingyu's without a second thought. Seungcheol locked the front door of the restaurant, and you felt Jeonghan's eyes on your back as you climbed into the lifted pickup truck.

Mingyu was silent as you fiddled with his radio, cranking the ignition before sucking in a breath. "You wanna–"

"How do you and Minghao do it?"

You blinked, absently turning out of the parking lot and pulling off into the main road. "How do we…do what?"

Mingyu was frustrated, tossing his baseball cap onto the dash with a huff. He slumped in the passenger seat, crossing his arms over his chest before peering up at you through teary eyes.

"Work together and go home together without bringing any of the work problems with you. It's like we're constantly being pushed and pulled. If I'm not being called in, she is. I'm not saying it's a bad business decision by Jeonghan or Seungcheol, but she gets tired, too. I know she's great at her job, but she won't be here forever. Her potential is far greater than just greeting people who don't even deserve to be graced with her presence."

You hummed, fiddling with the turn signal.

"I wish I could help, Mingyu! However, Minghao and I–"

"Oh, come on. You're going to tell me you're just friends? That you haven't, even for a moment in time, though what it would be like to be together? You're saying that neither of you have ever gotten just entirely too close and almost kissed?" You felt your face grow hot as Mingyu sat up in his seat, leaning slightly over the center console as you slowed to a halt at a red light. You made the mistake of glancing over, seeing an expectant gaze on your friend's face. He watched intently as you rubbed your face in frustration, running your hands through your hair as you scoffed.

"Okay, fine. Minghao and I…there is truly nothing there, I can promise you that." You began, clearing your throat as you stared out the windshield to the fiery red light. Mingyu tilted his head, sort of like a puppy, as you squeezed your eyes shut momentarily. "Sometimes, I think we could be more. I don't like him, and he doesn't like me…but he certainly goes above and beyond for our friendship. I can say that for all of his friendships, though, because Minghao is just that kind of guy, you know? Kind, observant, sweet." "It confuses you." "This is supposed to be a therapy session for you, not me." Mingyu snorted, shaking his head. "Okay, fine. How do you and Minghao not fight?" "Because we're not together. We're friends, and we're roommates. We don't have that expectation of having to spend time together, because sometimes just brushing past one another when we're at work is enough. Sometimes waking up in the middle of the night to pee but having to wait because he's in the restroom is enough. Sometimes walking to the laundromat together is enough." You shrugged, before sighing. 

"When Hansol and Seungkwan were on vacation and we were pulling all those double shifts, he showed me that I could depend on him. He'd make breakfast before he left for work, and then come to pick me up for my shift. We did that for two weeks, and by the end of it, we were both exhausted. He never made me feel like I owed him anything, much less my time." You turned to face him, "You and Tzuyu have been together for three years. If you keep having the same fight, over the same thing. If the issue is that you don't spend enough time together, I think you should tackle that. Take a vacation, the restaurant won't burn down without you. Save your relationship." Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair before slumping once more. "I miss spending time with her. You know the last time we actually spent time together as a couple was when we went to pick up Minghao's couch? I don't think we've been able to even have a date night since."

You gaped, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. "Mingyu!" "I know, I know. God, and we were supposed to have a date night tomorrow, too, but Wonwoo is sick and Jihoon already asked for the night off." He rubbed his face in frustration, and the words slipped from your lips as you pulled into your apartment complex. "Call out. Minghao and I have the day off tomorrow, we can fill in." You blurted, and Mingyu scoffed. "Y/N, I couldn't ask you to do that." "You're not, I'm offering." You didn't let him continue to speak, instead turning his engine off and sliding out of his truck. Minghao and Tzuyu were sitting on your front steps, his jacket draped over her shoulders as she wiped her eyes. You felt the heat of Mingyu's body behind you, and Tzuyu didn't look up as you cleared your throat. Minghao glanced at you, his eyes heavy with expectation as you twitched your head in the direction of the apartment. "I lost my key."

You snorted, digging yours out of your pocket and shoving them into his hand. "Come in, we'll have a nightcap. Then you guys can go home and have a good night together, yeah?" Minghao seemed to understand as he opened the door and let the couple in. Tzuyu sat on the far end of your couch, and Mingyu didn't even bother sitting down – he beelined straight for your kitchen. You grabbed Minghao's arm lightly, pulling at his sleeve carefully and tilting your head towards his room. He nods, following behind you as you skirt into the pristine bedroom.

"I may have…fucked up." You start, making Minghao shake his head with a gentle smile. "Nah. I'm sure you said the same things I did. Spend time together, stop working so much, you and I are not together." He rolled his eyes as he tugged his jacket off, draping it over the back of his desk chair. His eyes scan your face, before his smile drops and his brows furrowed in concern. "What's wrong, honey?"

"I did…say all of that…" You grimaced, rubbing your neck sheepishly. "But I also…may have volunteered you and I to take their shifts tomorrow." "Y/N." He groaned, and you winced slightly, your hands coming to hold his. He allowed it, his eyes boring into yours as you tried to apologize.

"I know it was our only day off this week, Hao. I'm sorry, but I–" "You could've asked me first." He didn't sound mad, but disappointed. You felt like you were going to get scolded by your father. You shrank back a bit, and you could feel guilt spreading in your body as he sighed. You grimaced at the sting of tears filling your eyes, but bit them back.

"Are we doing rock-paper-scissors to see who takes what? Did you even call Jeonghan?" He moved his hands from yours, running one through his hair before crossing his arms. You shook your head in silence, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before nodding. He held his hand out, yet another despondent sigh slipping from his lips. "Loser takes Mingyu's shift. Best out of three." "Minghao, I can just find someone else to do it. I'm sorry."

"Best. Out. Of. Three." You tongued your cheek, losing quickly to the tall man in front of you. Scissors, scissors, paper to his rock, rock, scissors.

"You're driving tomorrow." He muttered, rubbing his face with his hands before you nodded, looking anywhere but him and moving to slip out of his bedroom. He shook his head, standing in front of the door. "I'm not upset." "Okay." "Y/N." "What?"

His hands reach for your shoulders, and you kept your eyes casted elsewhere. His fingers are warm as they tilt your chin to look up at him, forcing you to try and blink back the tears when he rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheek. "I'm sorry for snapping. It wasn't my intention but I can tell I've hurt your feelings, and I never want to hurt your feelings." His voice was soft, and you felt your throat tighten slightly. You weren't too sure why you were even crying, maybe it was reminiscent of being scolded for trying to do the right thing.

"I'm sorry, honey." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his chest. He smells like pink pepper and the essence of pomegranates, mixed with a hint of the maple butter rum one of the regulars likes to knock back. It's oddly comforting. "Forgive me." "It's fine. I should've asked." "Yes, you should have. However, that's not the point here."

Minghao pulled back slightly, pointing his finger in your face. You huffed, but he raised his brows at you – as if to say, listen. Be quiet.

"You need to call Jeonghan and let him know. If we're going to work tomorrow, I need to spend time with you tonight." You must've looked taken aback, because he only smiled. He pinched your cheek lightly, before humming and opening his door. "Go on, call him. We'll be in the living room." Either you'd been too out of it to fully process, or Jeonghan had truly had you on the phone explaining all your qualifications to run a kitchen as a head chef. You didn't have many, just the few nights you flipped burgers at a diner back in high school – but it seemed enough to settle Jeonghan. He let you know there was going to be a trainee chef with you named Joshua, as well as the kitchen manager named Seokmin.

Jeonghan also let you know that Tzuyu's shift started earlier than Mingyu's, so someone would have to go get you. He volunteered Seungcheol, and you could hear the man begin to protest in the background but he hung up before anything could be truly said.

You ducked out of Minghao's room to see him folding blankets in the living room, soft music playing on the television as he glanced up. He smiled, and you noticed the two cups on the coffee table. One tainted with lipstick from Tzuyu, and what seemed to be one filled with water? Soju? Rum? Something.

"Tzuyu is driving. She had some of your juice, I hope that's alright." He nodded, and you waved it off. You turned to the television, No One Noticed by The Marías playing softly as he hummed along. "Did Jeonghan say it was okay? I was trained to be a host and a waiter before I was a bartender, but you just jumped into waitressing, right?" "I had a part-time gig in high school at a diner. I have some, but not a lot." You shrugged, and he made an o-shape with his lips as he smoothed the folded blanket over the back of the couch. You nodded, before checking your watch. "It's only fifteen to eleven, do you wanna sit with me? Decompress a bit before we go to bed?" "Your version of decompressing is watching Bob's Burgers and sipping a beer." "We can sip something else, if that's the case." He rolled his eyes, biting back a smile as he nodded. "I have to change."

You both ended up returning to your respective rooms, and you hastily wiped your makeup off. Pajama shorts, your favorite baggy t-shirt that boasted of Bigfoot's existence…not the first thing you would wear to hang out but it's Minghao. You stared at yourself in the vanity mirror on your dresser, but heard your roommate knock on your door before your mind could wander too far about where all he could kiss you, in said stupid Bigfoot shirt.

"Are you taking a shower first tonight? Or are we going to fight for it again?" Minghao asked gently, and you shrugged.

"Go for it. I go in later than you do tomorrow, Tzuyu's shift starts at four." You wiggled your brows, and he scoffed, turning on his heel and beelining for the living room. You snickered to yourself, scampering after him as he flopped onto the couch. He draped an arm over his eyes, letting out a groan as you leaned over the back of it. "Want a beer, Mr. I don't drink?" He lifted his arm slightly, his eyes peering out at you from beneath it. "You drink like a fish, you know that?" "Is that a no?" "...Fine, I'll have a beer. Just one!" You cheered sarcastically, scurrying into the kitchen and grabbing two from the fridge. You peered at the bottle of Soju, mocking you from the shelf.

"Did you get lost in the fridge?" You heard Minghao call from the living room, making you scoff as you grabbed the bottle of Soju and tucked it under your arm. The piercing cold of the glass bottle made you shiver as you walked back into the living room. He was now skipping through movie recommendations on Netflix, his eyes darting back and forth across the screen.

"I said we could sip something else, I never said we'd be changing our entertainment of the night." You scoffed, sliding the drinks onto the coffee table as he smirked lazily. 

"You're right, honey." He flipped the remote in his hand, holding it out to you as you shook your head. You cracked open the beers, handing him one before perching on the edge of the couch in front of him. His stomach is warm against your lower back, and you try to ignore the way the blue light of the television makes his arms glow. 

Your eyes trailed up to his face, watching the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips before bringing the beer bottle to them. He continued to flip through suggestions, before you snapped out of your daze to hear him reading the summary to Ali Wong's Always Be My Maybe.

"...Feel the old sparks of attraction but struggle to adapt to each other's worlds. Interesting." He set his beer back on the coffee table. You snorted, "This is two hours long, Hao."

"You have somewhere to be?" He scoffed, pressing Play. You shook your head, feeling his hand tug at the back of your shirt, signaling for you to lean back. You did, resting your elbow on the back of the couch before reaching for the bottle of soju. "Can I have a sip?" You nodded silently, watching the two children on the television grow up to the sound of Young Americans by David Bowie. You held the uncapped bottle over to him, feeling his hand take it as Marcus' father let the now-teenagers know that tragedy had struck the Kim family. You felt your heart sink as the scene changed to something more somber, hearing Minghao hum to himself and mumble slightly. "This is sad as hell, it just started." You couldn't help but snort, taking the bottle back from him and taking a sip. You glanced over to see his ears slightly perked at the sound of D'Angelo's How Does It Feel, before his eyes met yours. "I'll bet you ten bucks they're going to kiss." "It's not a bet when you already know what the outcome is going to be." You scoffed, making him laugh softly. "See? They're already struggling to get in the backseat, I would've been out ten bucks if I took you up on that." "Call it gas money." He lightly pinched your side, making you jerk away from him. You swatted his hand away, sliding the bottle onto the coffee table with a scowl.

"First of all, I tried to give you gas money a few weeks ago and you cussed me out."

"I did not cuss you out! I merely asked what in the most significant fuck you thought you were doing."

"Oh, what a colorful way–" "Shut up before I tickle you." You huffed, feeling his fingertips dig into your side. He smiled up at you, gently squeezing the softness of your skin before patting it. "The point is, I'd never ask you for gas money. Let's be realistic." You nodded, struggling not to roll your eyes as he fully stopped paying attention to the movie, his head rested on his palm as Sasha cried in the walk-in fridge. "What happened with Mingyu? Tzuyu was a mess." "It's just odd to me that everyone thinks we're a thing? Mingyu asked me how you and I didn't bring home our work problems–"

"And you told him that we don't have that expectation of having to spend time together because we're not together. We're just friends." Minghao interrupted, his eyes serious as he spoke. You cleared your throat, nodding. "I don't agree with that." "Oh? You don't?" You felt your brows high on your forehead as you looked down at him, feeling his hand pat your back before he used it to run his fingers through his hair. "And why not?" "Because I like spending time with you. Why do you think I was upset earlier when you told me you volunteered us for the shifts?" "You said you weren't upset." "Sometimes people lie." "Oh, so you're a liar?" You leaned slightly closer, and he smirks. 

"While normally I'd apologize, I think I was right to do that. I was upset because now I don't get to spend the day with you tomorrow, and I lied because I didn't want you to cry. I don't like seeing you sad, it makes me sad." He shrugged, and you tongued your cheek.

"Romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes, "My feelings are your feelings and your feelings are mine. All that jazz." "You don't have to brush off my affections as something romantic, you know. I can care about you openly and not have feelings for you in that way." "So you're saying you don't have romantic feelings for me?" "Never said that. I said I can." He lilted, reaching for his beer. You felt your cheeks grow hot as he sipped it, his eyes wide as he looked back over at you. "Woah, you would've thought I said I eat babies for a living. Are you okay?" "W-What did you and Tzuyu talk about?" You stuttered, making his brow quirk in confusion as he set his beer back down. 

"She asked me if you and I ever fight about work. I said no, because the beginning of our…friendship has always been this way. Too close for other people's comfort, very…advanced, in a way. We don't have spats over things that don't really matter, because work…it doesn't affect our dynamic." "Why did you hesitate before 'friendship?'"

"What?" "Before you said friendship. You paused. Why?" Minghao's eyes narrowed slightly, before he shrugged. "I paused when I said it with Tzuyu, as well. I guess…I don't know. I think back to what happened in your apartment, I take into consideration the way we speak to each other and kind of dance around the flame that could be something. I'm not saying it ever has to become a fire, the flame. But, it's definitely there." You felt your stomach flip slightly as you cleared your throat, reaching for your beer. You brought it to your lips, but didn't manage to take a sip before you sighed, putting it back down and tilting to face him. "We never talk about that night. Did you tell Tzuyu about it?" "No. That's not her business." He answered quickly, his eyes glancing at the television. Sasha and Marcus were now laying in bed together, staring at the ceiling. "I didn't think you'd be very fond of me telling her, either. I figured that if you didn't mention it while I helped Mingyu take the couch, it wasn't something you'd want shared." You shifted slightly, tucking your foot under your leg as you looked at him. “Do you think that is something we should share?”

“It’s not about my reputation though, is it? I don’t care what people think of me.” He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair once more. “But I care about what people say when it comes to you. I don’t like hearing others speak ill of you.”

“Would people knowing we almost slept together cause them to speak about me in a negative light?” You questioned, your hands fumbling for the bottle of soju. You offered it to him, and he took a small sip as he hummed.

“Maybe. Considering the fact that we are now roommates, and you constantly deny that there is anything between us.”

“As if you don't do the same.” “I don’t.”

“What?” Your eyes went wide as he held the bottle back out to you. You took it, bringing it to your lips as he shrugged.

“The customers like you, they think you’re sweet. The customers like me, and a few of them have asked if we’re a thing. I usually deflect…but I don’t think it’d be the worst thing in the world.”

“What? Us?” “Is there an us?”

You glanced at the television, the actors staring fondly at each other. They inch in for a kiss...two…

“Y/N.” “Sorry.”

Minghao was looking at you intently, his eyes searching your face as he moved your hair off your shoulder. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. It’s getting late.”

“Did you like it? The…uh, in my apartment?” You blurted, but Minghao showed no sign of surprise. In fact, he seemed to welcome the question, his eyes soft as he nodded.

"The kiss? Of course I did. I'm just not…used to it, I guess. I'm not a casual kind of guy. I was nervous, actually." He nodded, his thumb toying with the ring on his forefinger. You nodded carefully, fiddling with the spout of the soju bottle as you cleared your throat. "Nervous?" "Obviously. At that point, we were just starting to solidify our friendship. You had just gotten done with Jaehyun only a few months prior, and you literally signed the lease for this place that day. I was scared if we kept going, things would change. I enjoy your company, I enjoy your friendship…" He trailed off, clearing his throat as he seemingly shook off a feeling of something. "I didn't want things to go further if nothing was going to come from it, but more importantly, if it made you uncomfortable." "I wasn't uncomfortable. I just wasn't ready. I didn't want you to be a rebound. You deserved more." "You don't think I know what I deserve?" "I would hope that you do, and that you know it's not me. At least, not at that point in time." You muttered, hearing him scoff as he took the bottle of soju from your hand. "Hey!" "Is for horses. Are you hearing yourself right now?" He straightened up, carefully sitting up and adjusting himself to sit next to you. He folded his legs, and you did the same to face him fully. Your knees brushed his sweatpants, and you leaned back on your hands, toying with the seam of your couch cushion. "Are you?" "Minghao–"

"You're amazing, Y/N. Stop trying to put yourself down, or act like you're not someone who deserves everything. You're soft and sweet and one of the kindest people I've ever come across. You offered to work someone's shift on your day off, not because you want the money, no; because you want them to spend time together and help their relationship continue to flourish. You think anyone just does that?" He scoffed, and you cleared your throat, shrugging.

"It's not that serious." "Stop that! It is that serious, Y/N! You're so gentle and loving, and you are such a warm person to have around. The room practically lights up when you walk in, haven't you seen how excited the regulars at work get when they find out you're serving them? Haven't you seen how easily you make Seungcheol and Jeonghan laugh? Don't you understand how appreciated you are, even just within our friends and our coworkers? Are you that blind?"

He leaned forward, his hands settled on either side of your thighs as he spoke. "You have got to start recognizing that you're more than what you see. Other people don't matter, for the love of God, I promise they don't. You are so, so beautiful. I don't know how else to make you understand that."

"You don't need to make me understand anything. You're my friend." "What if I want more?" He murmured, and you felt your cheeks grow hot as you cleared your throat, your eyes darting around his face. His own were full of sincerity, dark with determination to understand you. 

You couldn't help the way you leaned closer, your heart thundering in your ears as he tilted his head. "Do you?" He inched closer, so close you could feel his breath on your lips. "Are you drunk?"

"No." "Tipsy?"  "No." He hummed, "We work tomorrow." "Minghao." "That's my name, pretty."

You scoffed, jutting your lip in a pout as he smiled. His hand was gentle as he brushed the hair away from your face, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. His thumb stopped at the lobe, tugging lightly at the diamond earrings he got you for graduation. "Nice earrings." "You would know, you got them for me." You mumbled, making him stifle a laugh as he nodded.

"I know. You always look so pretty when you wear them." He murmured back, and you scrunched your nose. "So you don't think I look pretty all the time?"

He smiled, his thumb lightly stroking your jaw as he moved away from you. "You said you'd shower first, I'll clean up here."

For whatever reason, you listened. You nodded in silence, your hand fumbling for the remote and turning the television off as he slid off the couch. He took the half-empty beer cans in his hands, offering holding the now-empty bottle of soju under his arm.

"Goodnight, Y/N. Rest well."

PRESENT – 3:15AM…

Minghao can't sleep.

His room is a mess, the door locked behind him as he shuffles through the piles of clothes on the floor. They say your room is a reflection of your state of mind, and it's true – he can't think, he can't sleep, hell…

He can't breathe without thinking of you. 

The two of you worked that shift for Mingyu and Tzuyu two months ago, and it was the worst shift of his life. He spent the entire time thinking about you, about the conversation you'd had the night before. Hoping you'd give him that longing glance you'd nailed perfectly in the time he'd known you, hoping he'd get to kiss you breathless and hoping you'd yearn for him the way he did you.

Instead, he shook it off. He stood at the host stand, greeting customers softly and seating them. He did his closing duties without even seeing a glimpse of you, until you walked out of the kitchen with a grin on your lips as you bid the trainee chef, Joshua, a goodnight.

He remembers the way your smile became something softer as he opened the passenger side door, how you let him buckle your seatbelt in for you and thanked him gently. He remembers how you offered to let him shower first as he peeled out of the parking lot, and how he scoffed and said you should go first. 

He remembers how you asked, again, what you would do for his birthday. He replied the same thing he had before – just you, and him. After his shift.

A shift he did not end up working, because you put in for him to have the day off and argued with Jeonghan until you were blue in the face. Minghao didn't know until the schedule was stapled onto the bulletin board the following week, his eyes almost instantly finding you across the kitchen. You had been eagerly talking to Seungcheol, making him laugh as you overanimated whatever story you'd told him.

He didn't say anything as the days went on, only quietly waited in his bedroom until you came in the morning of his birthday with breakfast on a TV tray. The two of you spent the entire day together and you initiated all contact – your arms wrapped around his waist from behind as he made lunch, resting your cheek on his bare back. You squeezed his sides, you cuddled him into the couch cushions as you watched Josee, the Tiger and the Fish. You made him dinner, you presented him with a few gifts and a new tea set he'd been eyeing for ages. 

You kissed his hairline, wishing him a happy birthday over a bottle of soju that he took two sips of. Two sips too much, as his lips ghosted over yours as you spoke to each other about nothing – too close, but he saw the way you held yourself back. He saw the way you wanted to kiss him, the way your hands clenched at your sides as you forced yourself to move away.

He wishes you would've kissed him.

His birthday had passed, you were nearing the end of November. This time last year, you'd asked him for a Guinness, with the most solemn look on your face.

This time last year, he drove you home for the first time and understood you'd be in his life, hopefully forever. He hadn't worked today, but dropped you off and picked you up – and you had a rough day. You talked about it – one of your regulars had a bad day and took it out on you, sending her food back three times and your tips had been nothing like what you usually made. You'd been snippy, and he prepped your shower for you, tossing a lavender steamer into it. You thanked him, and holed yourself away in your bedroom ten minutes to midnight.

He laid awake, thinking about you.

You'd long gone to bed, your soft breathing the only sound when he slid past your slightly opened door. You looked serene – your cheek squished against your pillow, soft lips gently puckered as you snuggled deeper into your sage green blanket. Your hair splayed all around, the moonlight seeping in through the drawn blinds and casting lines across your face.

He misses you, and you're no more than a ten-foot walk away. He wants to talk about his feelings, he wants to hold you close and he wants to stop losing his mind over how badly he wants you.

How badly he needs you.

He sighed as he looked around his room, the mess only digging into his very bones. He should've just spoken to you about his feelings all those weeks ago. He should've said yes, he did want more. He thinks about you romantically. He thinks about that night on your couch more times than he could count, tugging at his hair in frustration as he tries to bury the memories deep in the past.

He can't. He can't think about anything but you in that pretty white dress at his graduation party, talking to his parents with such ease. The relaxed state of your shoulders as you spoke to everyone with a gentle smile on your lips, the warmth in your laughter never leaving as you danced with him and Junhui. 

The way your eyes filled with something else as his parents asked you if there was something more between you and him, and his chest feeling tight when you insisted it wasn't the case. The way he could see the subtle disappointment in your face when he did the same…

He wants to understand you. He wants you to understand him, to observe him, to see him.

See him as more than just a friend, and he knows you do.

Whether it was a crush, or limerence…he doesn't care. He wants one chance at living life with you – coming home from work to sleep in the same bed and hold you close all night. To come home from a grueling shift and stand under the burning hot shower with you, feeling his muscles lose their tension with the heat and your gentle touch. To come home and make you a nice cocktail and a filling dinner. To come home and study with you, eventually. To come home and see you asleep on the couch, and getting to carry you to bed.

To come home, to you. Over and over again. 

"Fuck." He groans, slumping against his headboard and jolting at the cold of the wood against his shoulders. A sigh left his lips as he slid down slightly, tugging the duvet higher over his hips as he reached for his phone. He unlocked it, opening his gallery with a pout on his lips.

You, in your white dress at his graduation party. His mother took this photo – your hand had been on his chest, his high on your waist as you both smiled into the camera. Your lips had been reglossed, so pretty and glittery…

And your smile had been so bright, like the events earlier that day hadn't transpired. Like you hadn't pursed your lips together when calling your parents and getting sent straight to voicemail. Like you hadn't blinked back tears three times during lunch with him and Junhui, like he hadn't seen Junhui angrily calling your parents while you ducked into the ladies room after Minghao offered to foot the bill.

You had been truly at ease during that photo, much different than you had felt that entire day.

And he wants every single day to be like that for you – easy. Easy, with your independence but still letting him gently aid when he could see you needed it. Needed him. He wants to take you home and introduce you as his life partner, he wants to see you succeed in your dreams and have you by his side as he did the same.

He wants you to be happy.

"Minghao? Are you awake?" Your voice was heard before the soft raps of your fist against the door. He jumped, knocking his head on the wooden bedframe. His hand covers his mouth as he rubs the crown of his head, a hiss falling from his lips as he hears you mumble from the other side of the door. He locks his phone, tossing it onto the dresser as he slid out from under his duvet. He grabs a pair of sweatpants off the floor, grimacing to himself as he tugs them on before opening his door.

You look half awake, your hands clutching at the hem of your shirt. Your face is imprinted with the wrinkles from your pillowcase, often the way it looked when he would wake you up before work. The drawstring of your shorts was undone, but it had been tied when you went to bed. Maybe it got uncomfortable.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" You asked softly, and he shook his head. "Can't sleep. You okay? It's a mess in here, I'm sorry." He says sheepishly, rubbing his neck as you closed your eyes, shaking your head as you slipped past him. You settled on the edge of his bed, your eyelids heavy with sleep as you hummed. "You didn't make me feel bad about my mess. Something about it being my space, I remember. You said something about that when I said mine was messy. Don't worry about it." You sigh, peeling your eyes open to peer up at him. "I can't sleep." Minghao looked at the clock on his wall. 3:29AM.

"Would you like something warm? Or would you–" "Can you hold me?" You whispered it, almost too low for him to hear you. 

Over the course of your friendship, skinskip had been nothing new to either of you. He often pressed chaste kisses to your hairline, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, his arms wrapped around your shoulders when you'd slump against him after the end of a shift in the parking lot.

You were looking at him patiently, and he cleared his throat, nodding as he motioned for you to move back. You did so, scooting under his duvet with a frown on your face. He closed his door, perching on the side of his bed as you rested your head on one of his pillows.

He glances over his shoulder, seeing you peering up at him quietly before you speak. "Hit your head when I knocked, didn't you? I heard the bump." "Yeah. Your fault if I get amnesia, you know." He snorts, lying down next to you. His heart is racing a mile a minute as you held the duvet up for him to slide under, but he did so anyway. He turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow as you turned to face him.

"Don't forget me." You murmur, your lip jutted out in a pout as he feels his cheeks grow warm. As if he could ever.

"Hold me, Hao. I'm cold." "Should've worn pants, pretty." He teases, making you scoff. You are so close to him, he can feel your breath on his chest as he scoots slightly closer. His fingers rake through your hair, your cheek warm to the touch as he pinches it. You scowl, shooing his hand away as you press your face into his neck. Your lips are feathering over his skin, and he squeezes his eyes shut as he feels your arm settle around his waist.

You tilted your head back, his eyes peeling open to look down at you.

"Something wrong, honey?" He spoke under his breath, and you blink up at him. Your eyes flitted around his face, and he felt a bit of worry settle in his stomach. He cradles your jaw in his hand gently, "Talk to me." "If I wanted there to be an 'us'...would you be okay with that?" 

Minghao feels the world stop. 

Your eyes are glued to his face with the softest glint of apprehension, your body still under the duvet as his thumb traced circles into your cheek. "You're tired. We can talk in the morning." He assures you, for whatever reason hoping that you'd let it go. Hoping that you were just speaking through your teeth, not truly enticing him to a conversation about his feelings.

Feelings that could ruin everything, even when he's sure you feel the same. You have to, right? Eyes don't lie.

Your eyes stayed on his face, unmoving as he peered down into them. Your lip is stuck in a pout, your own hand moving to push his hair out of his face. He fought the urge to sink into your touch, your voice giving him something to focus on.

"Not tired, Hao." You murmur, and he feels a bubble of laughter get caught in his throat as you hold back a yawn. He pressed his lips to your hairline, hearing you hum inwardly. Your brow furrows as you seemingly glare up at him, looking nothing short of an angry kitten.

"You confuse me, you know that?"

"Mmh, do I? I'm sorry, honey." He smiles, watching you tuck your arms into your chest and snuggling into his. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, letting your head rest on his bicep as you frown.

"You kiss me like it means nothing, and I want it to mean something." Your mumble was clear, and he glanced down at you to see you already staring up at him. "You call me pet names, and you get me earrings. You tell me I'm beautiful in ways you can't describe. You cared enough to find this place we call home. You say you want to make my life easier, you said you'd give your left arm for it." Your fingers pat the arm under your head, and he felt his lip twitch as he bit back a nervous smile. "I did say that." "So answer my question. Make things easier for me, Minghao." He sighs, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. "Ask me again." "If I wanted there to be an 'us'...would you be okay with that?" Your voice is far softer, and he breathes in steadily as he nods. "I would be more than okay with that. I think you know that already, though, don't you?" He spoke gently, feeling you nod gently against his arm. "Everything I do for you means something to me. The earrings, the kisses, finding this place we call home. I appreciate that, the fact that it's we and not just me, not just you. When you think about it, there has always been an us." "I want to stop lying in my bed and thinking about how empty it is. I haven't been able to sleep through the night since we shared mine the night of our graduations." You utter, your breathing shaky as you look up at him. Your eyes are glazed with unshed tears as he coos, thumbing at your cheek. "I think about you every single night, Minghao. I think about you when I think about my parents, and how they don't speak to me unless I reach out first. I think about you when I get ready for work, I think about you while I'm waiting for you to give me those god awful Budweiser Select 55s that Mrs. Choi loves."

He felt a tear slide onto his skin, hearing you sniffle slightly before you kept talking.

"I think about you when I have a bad day. I think about you when I'm off work and you're not, and how I wish you were with me. I think about you when I feel alone, because you're the only person aside from Junhui that has ever made me feel seen and understood. I think about you when the essence of Jaehyun crosses my mind, because I know that you'd never make me overthink my place in your life, but now you've got me wondering where we stand. I think about you, Minghao, every single second of my day. It's all so vague, in my mind. Knowing that you're only a few feet away, but you feel so far. Like someone I could never deserve, but I know that you are also just a man. There's no way I couldn't."

He hums, his thumb wiping softly under your eye as you let them flutter shut. 

"I think you're magnificent." He breathes, closing his eyes as he presses his forehead to yours. "I think you are the most thought-provoking person I've ever met. I know that…I know that you've only slowly allowed me into your life, quietly revealing parts of yourself and showing me that you trust me. From allowing me to meet Junhui, to letting me give you rides home, to living with me. You let me take care of you even though you are more stubborn than any mule in the countryside." He pulls back slightly, seeing your eyes closed and letting tears trickle out as you listen in silence. He feels his heart in his throat, "You've got the softest lips I've ever had the pleasure of kissing. You…the way you exist, knowing that there are certain odds against you and yet, you do it anyway. Your passion precedes any negativity anyone could ever cast upon you and I've never admired someone more to know that you are just a living, breathing, embodiment of passion and truth and hope."

Your eyes open slightly, bloodshot as his nose brushes yours lightly, his lips ghosting over yours as he speaks.

"You are a tumultuous flame and if I get burned, so be it. If I let the heat of your fire singe me to death, it wouldn't be a death in pain. I'd let it happen, over and over."

You nod, your sniffles are the only sound in the room for a moment.

"I will always be okay with there being an us. Even if you muddle my heart into the bottom of a glass and drink it."

You snort at this, an airy laugh escaping your lips as you reach to wipe your eyes. "Quite the image." "Ah, nah. Just a fool, a court jester for the lady." He rolls his eyes, making you scoff as you brush your lips to his. 

"I thought you were going to kiss me that night. When I told you I picked up Mingyu and Tzuyu's shifts." You whisper, and he hums in response, feeling his heart thundering in his ears as your lips touch his briefly. "Would you have? Kissed me, I mean?" "If I had moved any closer to you, I probably would have. You have no idea how often I think about it." He confesses, before feeling you nod, your leg draping over his hip as you pull him closer. His hand instinctively finds home high on your thigh, before sliding up to rest on the small of your back. "Did you want to kiss me the night of my birthday?" "God, so badly." You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your forehead to his as you let out a sigh. "I felt like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice after he helped Elizabeth into that carriage." "Quite the image." He mocks you, feeling his cheeks warm as your eyes meet his. "Would you let me kiss you now?" You don't respond, opting to press your lips to his gently. Your fingers gingerly cradled his cheek as he kissed you back, his eyes fluttering shut. His hand on your back clutches the fabric of your shirt, his chest warm at the shyness of your lips moving against his. He pulls back slightly, his eyes trailing across your face. "Are you sure you want to do this?" "More than I've ever been of anything in my entire life." You nodded against his arm, and he silently pushed you onto your back, his fingers barely breaching the hem of your shirt. Your skin is hot against his fingertips as he settles between your legs, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as you blink up at him. "Are you?" "I don't want this to be the first time I say it, so can we sidebar this? Off the record?" He murmurs, and you raise a brow as you open your mouth to speak but he interrupts you "I love you, Y/N."

Your lips twitch slightly, your hands floating to cover your cheeks. You separate your fingers slightly, peeking up at him with a mumbled whisper.

"You promise?" "Oh, darling." He pulls your hands off your face, your eyes slightly glazed as he interlaces your fingers together and pins them to either side of your head. His lips pepper kisses across your face, paying special attention to the scrunch in your nose before he stops over your lips. Your eyes blink owlishly up at him as he speaks. "I promise."

Your smile spreads against his lips as he kisses you gently, before you kiss him back. You let him lead, one of his hands moving to hold your jaw as yours slides to his hip, squeezing gently. 

"Sidebar?" "Yes?" "I love you, too."

TWO WEEKS LATER…

"Babe, I need a Guinness." You slid around the bar with a grin on your face, Minghao's cheek ruddy as he tongued his cheek. Kwon Soonyoung – a regular, one that often downed six or seven whiskey sours before calling his situationship for a late night hookup – eyed you as you crouched to slip a wad of bills into your lockbox. He watched the way Minghao's hand instinctively covered the edge of the bar as he poured with one hand, the way your hand lingered on Minghao's hip as Jeonghan made his way over with his clipboard in his hand.

"Minghao." "Mr. Yoon." You smirked, squeezing Minghao's hip gently before leaning over the bar as Jeonghan rolled his eyes. Minghao clicked his tongue, sliding the Guinness over to you before shooing you away. You stuck your tongue out at him, before zipping away.

"Do you think you could cover Seungkwan's prep shift tomorrow? I'll pay you for time and a half, and it's only three hours before closing." Jeonghan's eyes were pleading, and Minghao opened his mouth to speak before he caught you talking to a customer with a soft smile on your face.

He thinks about how you laid in his bedroom two weeks ago, snuggling with him and letting your lips take over your mind as you kissed him over and over. He thinks about how you admitted to reapplying to another graduate program across town, one that would severely impact your hours at work. He remembers saying he hopes you get in, to not worry about work. He remembers how he said he's got it, he can take care of everything, of you.

He remembers how you straddled him then, his hands sliding on your hips as you kissed him eagerly. 

He remembers how you paced back and forth like a caged animal when you found out acceptance letters would be mailed soon. He remembers how you laid on the couch with your head hanging over the edge of the cushions, groaning in anticipation as he made lunch.

He remembers how you bolted for the mailbox after lunch, returning with a stack of mail but holding your letter between your teeth. He remembers how you anxiously ripped the envelope open, your hand fumbling for his when he pulled you into his chest and held the letter away. He remembers telling you to take a deep breath, kissing your forehead gently and sitting you down on the couch. He remembers how you threw your arms around him as you read your acceptance out loud.

"Minghao. Are you listening?" "Huh? Sorry." He winces, clearing his throat before shaking his head. "I can't, actually. I'm…" He trails off as you tap the tip of your pen to your notepad, before he makes out your lips telling the customers you'd be back for their food orders. Your eyes met his as you scampered back over, your hip nudging Jeonghan's as you slid in next to him.

"Minghao, I need you to focus." Jeonghan waved his hand in Minghao's face, "Can you work it or not? It's fine if you can't." "Work what?" You ask with a wiggle of your brows, reaching over the bar and stealing a maraschino cherry from the open jar. Minghao frowns, waving your hand away as you pull the fruit off the stem, winking his way. 

"I'm asking him if he can work the prep shift tomorrow, but he's not answering." Jeonghan rolled his eyes, flipping the blue pen between his fingers as you hum, nodding your head. "He can't." You shrug, and Minghao opens his mouth but you beat him to it. "We have a date tomorrow night. Good luck finding a cover, though." 

You tilt your head as you shrug again, this time, unapologetically. Facing Minghao again, you smile softly. "I need a cosmopolitan. Susie is back and she's getting divorced!" Minghao can't hear anything but you, and Jeonghan simply shakes his head and slips away. Soonyoung watches as you slide away again, hearing you tell Minghao you'll be back after getting the fountain drinks for Susie's table.

"I thought you didn't have a crush on the new girl, Xu." Soonyoung wiggles his brows, making Minghao scoff as he grabs a shaker off the drying rack. He flips it, scooping ice into it as he sighs. 

"I don't have a crush on her. I'm in love with her."

He can't focus on anything but the way you zip around the restaurant, his eyes trained on the smiles you give out, the way you hand out crayons and kids menus. He watches the way you gleefully serve people, how you gladly grab phones and cameras for photos.

How you peer at him over your shoulder when you walk by.

How you smile shyly when his fingers brush yours when he hands you a drink.

How you sneakily kiss his shoulder when the restaurant is closed, your hands wrapped around his waist as he holds your can of orange juice in his hand. How you ignore Jeonghan's incessant teasing, how Tzuyu recites long-winded rants of how she told you so.

"Friend, roommate, coworker?" Minghao repeats as you tuck his portion of your tips into his back pocket, and Tzuyu grins as Minghao slides her to-go strawberry lemonade across the bar. "Boyfriend, fiancé, husband." She says cheekily, and Minghao looks over his shoulder to see you biting back a smile as you brush trash onto the dustpan. "I told her so. I told her you guys would be something more." "So did I." Jeonghan calls from across the restaurant, slotted behind the cashier's station as he thumbs through the register. Mingyu pokes his head out of the kitchen as he fumbles with the lights, a mumble of so did I from his lips as he finally turns them off.

"So much for muddling your heart at the bottom of a glass, huh?" You murmur, as the two of you leave the restaurant hand-in-hand. The two of you ignore the hooting and hollering of your coworkers as Minghao opens your door, leaning over your frame to buckle in your seatbelt. He glances at your lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to them with a smile. "All I know is that if you're meant to break my heart – so be it." "I love you." "I love you, too."

haologram © 2025 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[tanadrin]

how dumb am i if i think the political situation in the states in one that can be bounced back from. like im not convinced by the argument that this administration brings the end to america, but im also not totally convinced that it's the end of america as we know it. and not in the "it's been like this all along" cynical sense, in the "i kinda do believe the rule of law wins out in this fight" sense. not without effort, mind. (goes without saying it's a different case for the foreign affairs)

you're not dumb at all. most apocalyptically bad political situations are the result of a long chain of decisions and failures and whatnot, and there are frequently sequences of decisions and failures that lead to bad political situations which society then proceeds to recover from.

for all the ways in which trump II has tried to deliberately fuck things up, it has been lousy at, like, the actual consolidation authoritarian systems usually need to sustain themselves. the modus operandi of authoritarianism AIUI is usually

be popular (trump did not even win an absolute majority of the popular vote; as of election day he was more popular than he had been in a while, but he didn't have crazy high approval ratings)

do your gleichschaltung first, using your popularity as a cudgel. install loyalists throughout the institutions, rein in independent actors, woo important elements like the military onto your side

only then once your power base is secure, unleash your real agenda. this is when you can go nuts, because the opposition will be weak and disorganized, and you can use the security apparatus to brutalize them. obviously there's a whole range of authoritarianism between outright "elections are over forever" and competitive authoritarianism, but they all rely on some degree of conslidation

and this was sort of the plan! project 2025 was meant to be a long game, carefully rolled out and done in a way that would leverage a conservative-but-independent judiciary to give it the imprimatur of legality, to establish a lasting conservative victory that would be incredibly difficult to undo.

trump, uh. did not do this. both he and musk have really poor impulse control and no real tact. there are goals here, but the strategy is bad; they have no sense of how to consolidate power, even in the ordinary non-authoritarian way that involves just putting together a robust governing coalition. they've had to rely mostly on trump's cult of personality and popularity within movement conservatism to cow Republicans, the fact that things are generally still humming along with inertia from the previous administration so that most people aren't super tuned in to politics, and the fact that most people do not care about the eye-wateringly boring details of the management of the federal government to stay under the radar--but when you poll the shit they're doing, it polls bad, and the likelihood they will break something in a really dangerous way is high. dangerous for the country--and for them.

there's been some efforts to install loyalists, but they've come alongside efforts to gut the apparatus of institutions you'd actually need to be working at high capacity to really do an authoritarianism. he fired the cjcs but also is attacking the agencies that administer veterans' benefits (and he literally just wanted to replace the cjcs with a general he thought had a cool nickname!). people who are paying attention are pissed. allies are freaked out. we are only a month in to trump II!

there are lots of paths here that, with some difficulty, nonetheless end with trumpism failing. there are lots of paths that don't, of course. i don't want to be pollyannaish here. but i think this is genuinely a chaotic situation, a situation where teetering on the brink is an apt metaphor, because this is one of those moments where events that are minor at first glance can have really outsized effects, and nobody really knows what will happen next.

[leonawriter]

Ayin, Carmen, and the Circles of Hell Project Moon's Works

First off, what I wanted to go over here is the assumption that at least someone must have started playing through these games without a full picture of who these important people are and what, exactly, is going on.

Part of what makes the games so special to me is the way that they're all narrated, in that... each and every single one so far (three games, but also the webcomics and webnovels so far) has been told by an unreliable narrator - either of the events they're telling, or of their own inner world.

In this post, I'm hoping to tie the games together in as objective way as possible, using as much game/official-backed fact as I can, but I can't promise to be an "unbiased narrator" myself, since there are certain stances I take and theories I back.

That said: expect spoilers for Lobotomy Corporation, Library of Ruina, Leviathan (Vergilius' backstory), and all currently released Cantos and Intervallos (so far, up to 7.5).

Okay.

To start off, I'm going to have to go right back to the beginning.

No, not the backstory of Lobotomy Corporation.

More like "What even is the City" - because unless we can understand that, we can't really say we can understand who these characters are, and why they're doing these things. The setting informs characterisation and cultural norms, after all.

The City is, basically, as those who've played or otherwise experienced Library of Ruina and Limbus Company will know, comprised of the Wings (districts) and then further divided into the Nests (where everyone wants to live, where it's safer), and the Backstreets (where no one really wants to live, but many have to). The main driving motivation for most peoples' lives is that they have to become employable to either a good organisation (legal or not) that will provide for them, as the moment they are not of use they will be fired and/or disposed of.

In other words, your life does not belong to "you." Your life belongs to "the City."

All of that stuff we hear all the time about "find work that you enjoy!"? Yeah, no, the most important thing is to a) stay alive at all, and b) find work that will enable you to stay alive. Being able to keep morals? That's a luxury.

The world (which as far as anyone is concerned here, IS the City) is run by people who do not care about the well-being of others, and "good" people get ground up by it, eventually learning to harden their hearts.

Now that we've got that out of the way...

I can actually go into who the characters are.

First off, and most importantly (and obviously, going by the title) we have Ayin, Benjamin, and Carmen. Later on in Lobotomy Corporation known as "A, B, and C."

We don't know much about them before a certain point. We can, however, easily see that all three of them were from a Nest, rather than the Backstreets; of the original Outskirts lab, only Kali (Gebura) was Backstreets, and both Enoch and Lisa were from the Outskirts. This means that all three must have scored highly in certain exams in order to stay inside their Nest (which ones, though, we don't know yet) as was brought up in an early chapter of Distortion Detective.

For all of Lobotomy Corporation, we see things through Ayin's eyes, and we really only see the events that lead up to the founding of the Facility that "X" (AKA, Ayin's future looped self) is running. Since we only see the worst moments, we aren't really allowed to see the good times. We're allowed to see some very relevant quiet moments, but other than that it's few and far between.

What we DO know, and that we can in fact take on board that is highly important, is that Carmen had a big dream of wanting to improve things for people, on an individual basis, and she was very good at pulling people around to her way of thinking. This is not an exaggeration, or a matter of bias; this woman would go on to recruit people from all sorts of backgrounds, from both the Nests and the Backstreets. She would walk more or less alone in the Backstreets, and as far as we know did not have a bodyguard (or adjacent) until she recruited Kali, a Grade 2 Fixer. Carmen's ability to recruit all sorts of people would later be compared to that of a cult leader in Library of Ruina, and by someone who knew a lot about the City.

(This isn't the only time Roland says something like that; he also brings it up with Netzach.)

Ayin, who would be Carmen's junior, followed after her, listened to her, paid her a lot of attention, did as he was asked, and as we see Angela later state, he would look at Carmen "warmly."

Ayin would also be the one who would end up being blamed for, or the cause of, the worst of what happened, for one reason or another. Much of this was, I would say, either 50/50 fault of the future Sephirot making bad decisions, and Ayin himself having no idea how to communicate with them in a way that would prevent such incidents, or outright being unable to.

Simply looking at him and the way that A describes things, as well as the way that Manager X would later respond to things, tells the story of someone who quite literally had trouble communicating and connecting with other people. After Malkuth's meltdown, when A is talking about and recalling Elijah, we see the line "It was only after a very long time that I realised giving praise every once in a while may have been a good idea." When introduced to Kali, it's pointed out that he seems to be "glaring" at her, and Carmen says that he "always has a serious look on his face."

There are other lines and aspects from other scenes, but going into how and why I see Ayin as autistic is for another post, really. The important part is that the game shows us that he is perceived as cold and distant by others, yet most often only figures out how to interact in a way that grants the social benefits he and others require once it is already too late.

There is also the fact that a lot of his reactions (both in the past, and in the present) are... very human. No one can give the perfect response of a hero while in a traumatic moment. Chesed actually outright states this during one of the flashbacks about himself.

So we have Carmen, whose dream was to have a "beautiful voice" that "everyone would listen to," and we have Ayin, whose dream we aren't privy to - he tells her, and she laughs it off.

I'm not making that up, by the way:

[Source: TeeQueue's LP.]

What we do know, however, is that... for most of his life really, he - as said - follows after Carmen. To the point that, in one particular flashback (during Day 48), she asks him, in advance, that "No matter what I may become, please finish what I started."

However, we can see from both Adam (the third of Ayin's fractured selves) stating point blank that the consequences of Carmen's Light would cause people to become abnormalities, and then in Library of Ruina seeing the direct result in reality... that the Distortion phenomena would begin because of her. Starting with one as big and destructive as the Pianist which destroyed most of an entire district, then the Reverberation Ensemble through the course of the game, and finally firsthand appearances in both Leviathan and Limbus Company.

Carmen truly does become the "beautiful voice" that everyone listens to; Leviathan goes as far as to have an entire conversation between her and a distorting Vergilius, in which we get to see what her perspective is, and... strap in, because this is why I explained what kind of place the City is in the first place.

Carmen, at her heart, wants the Children of the City to live for themselves. To be selfish, rather than living only for the sake of a City that does not care for them. To have their outside appearance resembles the self they keep inside. You can see, in the few times the reader/player is allowed to see what she's saying during a distortion, that she doesn't push people into distorting so much as she plays into their own pre-existing feelings and desires. Enabling them to feel that they are justified in everything that they feel.

The important thing to remember is that the root (ha) of Carmen's argument is not wrong. Remember: those born to the City are subject to the City, and exist only for the City. The City doesn't exist for the sake of the people, but only for itself. Therefore, the idea of someone suggesting "I want to make it so that you can be selfish, and live for yourselves" IS going to be incredibly tempting, and to many people. It's a subversive, inherently rebellious idea!

Even in the real world, we have countries that put a lot of stock into how well a country can function as a uniform system; Japan and China I know for certain put far more emphasis on the group than the individual, even now. Anyone coming from somewhere that doesn't may see this as a strange idea, but it IS a cultural mindset that exists in the present day, and it took certain movements ("egoism" for one, and Ango Sakaguchi's essay that is referenced in Bungo Stray Dogs is "Discourse on Decadence" for another) to get to the point we're at now.

The problem lies in the fact that the moment you start to only think of yourself, when you ignore everyone else you become a force of destruction, harming others, either on a small scale (only hurting those immediately around you) or a large scale (hurting many people as a result of your actions) without regret. You no longer care about the people you used to care about. The "self" is all that remains.

Carmen was/is a well-intentioned (by the City's standards) person, but who took her one good idea too far.

Judging by his reaction to Adam's revelations about the as-yet-unnamed Distortion Phenomena - and he DOES have a negative reaction to it, considering he answers Adam's religious fervour with Hokma's ability to "Face the past, build the future" and Binah's "Facing the fear, breaking the cycle," meaning that he saw Adam as wrong. I'd say it's a foregone conclusion that Ayin did not know that Carmen's idea meant what it did. Nor that it's likely that Carmen's idea was to distort people from the start.

This, then, leads to the fact that although we don't know Ayin's own wishes from way back at the start when they first met so clearly... we can at least say that he wanted at least some of the same as what she did; for people to lead happier, more fulfilling lives, which were not controlled fully by the City. He must have agreed with her on the fact that the City, in her terms, suffered from a "disease of the mind."

Their differences are where things get interesting, because in Leviathan it is stated that simply due to Ayin "joining [her] in the light" at all, the concept of also being able to form EGO instead of Distortion became a possibility. In fact, in that same chapter, Vergilius is shown to be suspicious of her brushing her "junior's" involvement off, in spite of Ayin being "involved in every cause and effect" (Vergilius' words, from the translation).

There is a certain irony, even, to Carmen causing rifts between the future Sephirot and Ayin when they first meet - saying things that could otherwise be playful teasing, yet in later context is, as stated above, rather dismissive-

Her telling Ayin "He's a bit pompous, so don't believe everything he says" about Daniel, and to Kali who, as stated above, asked why Ayin was glaring and was told "He just always has a serious look on his face." In another flashback, she wore him down until he could see no other option than what she gave him (about progressing the Cogito experiment); "What made me, us, so upset... was how much it hurt to listen to her put it so calmly, as if it were none of our business." As I pointed out earlier, she laughs at his dream, before carrying on.

And yet, because she entrusted the project to him, it's Ayin's fingerprints that are over all of Lobotomy Corporation, as well as how to activate EGO at all. "Face the Fear, Build the Future"? That's all Ayin. And yeah, he's hardly a saint; he still did everything that all of the flashbacks show us (and his present day self who is remembering/being shown). But the important thing is that people can be multifaceted, and half the point of Lobotomy Corporation, as I see it, is that people are capable of some truly horrendous things... but you are still capable of building from them and moving into the future if you want to try and be a better person.

That's literally the message that Ayin leaves people through the Light.

Which in turn, pushes us forward in to the later games, because the thing is, everything really does come back to those two.

In Ruina, the Sephirot - now the Patron Librarians - have to tiptoe around Angela, who only has negative feelings about Ayin due to him being the world's worst father by creating her and then refusing to look at her, and then sending her into an unending torture device. I can't fault her for being furious here. She has been given absolutely no reason to see him in a better light up to here, when she was created with the memories of someone who had fond memories of him.

However, that does mean that the Patron Librarians can't truly be said to be speaking their minds amongst themselves, and especially not with Roland. These are the people who came out of Lobotomy Corporation's loops changed for the better, and although you can still see their (metaphorical, psychological) scars, we can see through the things they say that "X" must have been talking back to them at various points, and specifically during and after their meltdowns.

I brought this up in another post, but here's Gebura in Ruina, stating "It's hard to take a step forward if there's no one around to give you honest advice," and that goes for both the Sephirot and also Angela. As they do point out, Angela never had that. Angela herself is very upset about it (which is an understatement).

I've theorised as well that the Patron Librarians would have talked more about Ayin at length, but they held off after Angela interrupted Malkuth.

After she says this, she's cut off, and Angela berates her. Given Angela is basically hearing what to her is her abuser being praised to high heavens by someone who was also harmed by him... it's no wonder she reacts like this, and given the way the Librarians are I wouldn't be surprised if they understood that - but it does mean that we don't see their true thoughts.

They'll talk around him, but rarely directly about him - and when they do, like Gebura above, she snaps at them. So we, the viewer, also do not get to see their full thoughts and feelings.

This isn't the end, however, since the endgame of Ruina throws a lot into perspective that is made rather blatantly clear in later materials such as Leviathan and Limbus Company: that is, the stances of Ayin versus Carmen, and expanding on how they're in opposition in a far clearer way than we had during Lobotomy Corporation.

Because Lobotomy Corporation's final days are full of unreliable narration and Ayin's other selves telling him how he felt (which... yeah, wasn't him saying how he felt), that wasn't as clear as it could have been.

Not anymore!

First of all, in order to get the full, true ending in Ruina, you have to have both Roland and Angela forgive each other and not keep that need for revenge. In other words, they have to face the past, and break the cycle. They've both gone through Realisations, with them venting out their feelings to the Librarians each time... much like how the Librarians themselves had to vent out their feelings to Ayin in order to cool off.

Once you've got that, Angela decides to sort out the Light, and gets one more Realisation/fight - this time something that Hokma had been warning her about. Interestingly, he's the only one who made her question where the ability to create Invitations and use the Library at all came from. He, while having faith in Ayin, makes her question her blind faith in Carmen. Because as it turns out, she has been leaning on the part of her that was built from Carmen quite a bit up to now.

This... doesn't last, now that she herself has The Knowing I.

Angela: As long as I'm part of this light, I'll do everything in my power to stop you.

Given how we know that Ayin's very presence in the light caused awakening EGO to be possible, it's not a stretch to assume that this is the same stance that Ayin has taken now that he knows what Carmen was actually after.

I'd like to add something that is implied by that statement that some might see as treading into headcanon territory here: that Ayin, after having dedicated his entire life, literally ten thousand years of loops, to following Carmen's goal, which entailed committing atrocity after atrocity both personal (putting his deceased friends into metal bodies and bringing them back time after time) and impersonal (the many, many canon deaths of the employees, and no matter how "S rank no death" run you try and make yours, a few Clerks will get themselves killed by something) - would feel horrendously betrayed by Carmen.

I do not see Ayin, when he sees her again after realising what she had been aiming for the entire time, greeting her as a friend.

There's an art I've seen someone do, of them meeting in the light, Carmen reaching out her hand, and Ayin refusing her for perhaps the first time, because he finally has the Will to Stand Up Straight, and the understanding that they're actually on opposing sides now. I strongly feel like that - or the vibe of it - is at least somewhat the intent with their characters.

This is backed up by how, when Angela has accomplished this, fought Carmen, finished what Ayin had been working toward herself (and most importantly, her own personal growth to get there), Ayin tells her "I'm sorry. And... good job."

So. That's Library of Ruina.

On to Limbus Company, and the Circles of Hell.

Because if anyone thinks that Ayin's influence stopped with Angela and the Library, they are dead wrong.

To start with, we have some purely meta things. The titles have the same initials, which makes them easy to confuse if you're used to just going "oh play LC-" because which one? Lobotomy, or Limbus? In the Project Moon interviews before the game was released, they would often refer to future games as "the sequel." First Ruina, and then Limbus. Limbus especially, given its initials, got called "LC2" at least once or twice.

So, Limbus Company is a direct sequel to Lobotomy Corporation, which deals with the aftermath of all the branches having shut down. Simple enough, right?

The next thing is the characters we meet.

So far, both Dante and each of the Sinners has something in common with Ayin. And almost every one of their respective enemies so far has something in common with Carmen.

Dante themself is the Manager. Instead of managing Abnormalities, they manage the Sinners, a group of twelve people who are brought down to the strength of the weakest among them because of Dante's ability to chain them all together- wait, that sounds... familiar?

"The person who learns to think about himself as Ayin will ascend to a spiritual world, where everything is the same and everything is equal."

[Source: Ayin and Yesh, in Hasidism, from Wikipedia.]

Oh, look who it is. Hello, Ayin. Or rather, the spiritual concept of Ayin.

Honestly, a LOT of things about Dante scream out to me as references to Ayin. As a person. If you wanna go look at all of them, my friend Kitty/ @strangefellows has a whole gdoc on it.

My own thoughts on it go from "If you change Dante's red uniform coat to a white lab coat and ignore their head, that is literally the same person and body language" to "Dante's inability to know what they're doing at first echoes how Ayin had no idea at the start of the loops, both of them suffering from memory loss," to "Dante, during the SEA event, sinks into the same sort of uncertainty that anything they say will make any difference that is so characteristic of Ayin's own silences," to "when exposed to a monolith, which induces distortion, Dante is said to remember more than they are capable of at the time and knows exactly what Peccatula are, which is something that Ayin would know intimately given his involvement," to "during the the time when Heathcliff is distorting, the screen flashes with a very specific image of Carmen lying in a field" - which should be familiar to anyone who's gone through Lobotomy Corporation since it's something that only Ayin remembers.

In short: there is a very high probability that we're going to see it confirmed at some point that Dante's past self (with memories) is actually Ayin himself. I personally do not see this contradicting any of the canon Limbus has given us, and it does in fact only build on it. You'll notice that when I talk about Ayin I use he/him, and Dante gets they/them - I personally love the idea that Dante's just gonna go "ooh, I get to play with more pronouns? Cool!" Collect 'em all, you funky tick-tock genderless dude.

(If you don't believe that, it's fine. I've only been listing off canon moments, however!)

Going back to "more than just Dante echoes Ayin, just as Ayin was similar to more than just the Keter," however, and... let's build on that.

Starting with Yi Sang.

Yi Sang is someone who was a researcher working alongside a small group of people, who created a technology that was meant to be a bright spot for pure enjoyment. However, a chain of events happened that had T-Corp's law enforcement coming down on them, forcing them to work for the Wings or scatter. He regains his ability to see that he still has a future, and that he can still attain "flight" (that is, his own ideal self) by working through his past and being proactive rather than simply letting it happen. A large part of his trauma lies in the League of Nine breaking up and him recognising his own loneliness, too, and as a result he can be later seen trying more than anyone else in the bus to stop the others from fighting and causing the irreparable rifts that torn his original friend group apart.

Yi Sang mirrors Ayin in that they are both researchers who were set apart from their friend groups, yet they both had a desire for friendship and to be closer to those people that they could not fulfil due to their own temperament.

Yi Sang also has the EGO "4th Match Flame" which...

If it weren't for the colour of his eyes, I'd outright call that Ayin.

Note that the Matchgirl's story is that of someone who burns themself out in order to gain a little more warmth, which fits both Yi Sang and Ayin.

Next we have Faust, who hasn't had her Canto yet, but we do know some things about her. She is very similar to Angela, in that she fills the role of "walking assistant and encyclopaedia" however as we see in MOTWE, she's also part of a collective, the Gesselschaft, and we do know that when she is disconnected from it she becomes a person who is keen on learning and investigating for herself, and Dante's attitude to her is very encouraging, even while they're having their own private panic/anxiety attacks over potentially being stuck in a 20k+ year dimension with (based on what we know from Canto 4) no certainty that they'll be able to forget. That isn't so much a direct Faust-Ayin comparison as it is a Faust-Angela and Dante-Ayin comparison, but it's still worth bringing up. I look forward to her Canto.

Next we have Don Quixote, whose entire Canto was about breaking free of her dreams and delusions to see how things truly were, but also - more importantly - it's about how one person with good intentions can try to push them onto other people, regardless of how much it hurts those around them. Of how, even if those dreams of a better world were good ones, because Sancho was never fully able to say "hey, maybe this is gonna not work?" they weren't held in check, so they do untold damage. How Dad Quixote sees what the other bloodfiends do to him as a form of "penance," with the sheer amount of time he is kept pinned to the wheel causing him to lose faith in his original hopes and dreams, not fighting back because he recognises that he is the one who caused them to lash out at him in the first place. Sancho-Don being the one to regain her dreams that had previously just been delusions, this time with her eyes open.

This one... barely even needs me to point out, really, but both Sancho and Dad Quixote are echoes of how Ayin and Carmen's best intentions could and did hurt many people, trapping them in Lobotomy Corporation headquarters/La Manchaland, and torturing themselves for their own inability to see the problems they'd cause. Sancho also ends up having locked her now amnesiac self in a very small room for roughly two hundred years, much like Ayin locking his amnesiac self in a small office for ten thousand years, with neither of them fully aware of the length of time that's actually passed. Both of them also are traumatised by witnessing a horrendous massacre of their home; Ayin by the Outskirts Lab, and Sancho/DQ by the sight of what La Manchaland became, and then by having to kill her remaining family.

Next on the list is Ryoshu, and... we honestly don't know much about her past or motivations since her Canto hasn't released yet and we haven't had as much focus on her yet. She so far (given my recent re-watch and read through of an LP) reminds me of Binah, since they both enjoy bloodshed and violence - and Binah herself tells A that she sees them as similar kinds of people, able to perform atrocities by looking the other way.

If we look at Ryoshu's source material, going into headcanon territory, we can see that the character she's base don had a child, who died horribly. One has to wonder how that's going to play out in Limbus. The idea of a parent and child storyline does make me think of Ayin's relationships with both Enoch and Lisa (both of whom died), and also with Angela, however.

Meursault currently doesn't have his Canto yet, but the similarities are plain and easy to see; they are both taciturn people who may seem blunt and/or harsh, and don't really... know how to people. Meursault is pointed at by many as being autistic, just as I've stated way up back in my description of Ayin that he seems to me. At the start of the story, Meursault doesn't seem attached to anyone, and merely does as he is told and not a thing more, yet by Canto 6, he is willing to activate his own EGO without having been told to, for the sake of the people he has grown to care about. Meursault is a lesson in "just because someone seems cold and aloof, does not mean they do not or are not capable of care."

Hong Lu's Canto is coming up in just a short while (it's in sight!) but he's honestly currently closer to having comparisons to Daniel, or rather, Chesed. Both of them are rich Nest boys. Chesed states that as Daniel he could have made it into even A Corp - that is, the Head - and he chose not to. They both have the same breezy yet confident way of talking (which, funnily enough, Dante and Ayin's ways of talking about Chesed and Hong Lu are very similar), too, and a similar trauma-based "I am past the point of caring" mindset, which others have talked about on Hong Lu's side at length on better than I could.

Heathcliff is someone who follows one woman, believes in her, and is the one who inherits her will after she dies. He also finds out that the one who he's been following and placing his faith in has turned her home into a laboratory, her body (dead or alive) is the power source, and she has looked into a mirror showing her countless alternate worlds full of might-have-beens that drove her mad from the revelation. He distorts from the grief and despair, is called back, and fights his evil alternate self at least three times before finally ending it all, with her deleting herself. He then re-engraves his weapon to state "REMEMBER" and in a later Intervallo is seen having taken on the role of assistant researcher.

....More than half of that could have been talking about Ayin. It is also within Heathcliff's "area" (T-Corp, more than just his canto) that we have the monolith introduced (which induces Dante to half-distort), as well as Heathcliff's own distortion (which causes distorted Lobotomy Corporation logos and Carmen's face to flash on the screen). This feels... relevant!

[Image: flickering, slightly distorted image of Carmen lying on the grassy field from after having played through 6-34. Her eyes are open and bright red. It is - other than the flickering - exactly the same as we see on LC1 Day 48.]

Also relevant is that so much of Heathcliff's entire Canto is about the consequences of miscommunication (much like many parts of the original Wuthering Heights). Because in Lobotomy Corporation, a lot of the Sephirot's problems were caused by the same thing. Either Ayin or them refusing or being unable to communicate effectively.

Ishmael's references are beautiful, in that hers is the second Canto where Dante is really getting into their stride as the Manager. I find hers to be so freaking important, because during SEA Dante is faced with Ishmael's mood regarding them heading into the Great Lake tearing the group apart, and when she snaps and tells them that she'll obey their orders but no more and no less from here on, Dante is... well.

The entire situation surrounding Ishmael's Canto goes deep into, first: how easy it must have been for someone like Ayin to fall into the rut of not wanting to say anything for fear of saying the wrong thing, because Dante almost falls into that, starting from SEA and even leading right up into Canto 5.

[Thanks to Kitty for the doc letting me just find stuff rather than go through the cutscenes through theatre!]

This is something that Dante is having to struggle with and overcome through the duration of the Canto - what does it mean when you want to fit in, but you feel that no one around you feels the same way? What to do when your best efforts to try and help only make things worse? Do you give up and stay silent, out of fear, or do you keep pushing forward while following your heart, hoping that this next time, you can help even at least somewhat?

And then there's how Ishmael during the entire Canto, but especially during the dungeon, has to overcome how she has been following in her Captain's footsteps to the point that she can't even see her own path anymore. It's only by listening to Dante (who refuses to sacrifice themself, and who also refuses to ever give up on her) that she's able to change her target at the last moment.

Canto 5 ends with Ishmael having recognised that she had become the mermaid to Ahab's Pallid Whale, following forever in her footsteps... until Dante reminded her of how she could choose her own path. Much like how Ayin and the crew of the Outskirts Lab followed Carmen's wishes and dreams no matter how awful her ideas to follow through on it were, with Ayin only able to break out at the very last moments, the last few days, where he recognised where she was going wrong.

Rodya is one of the two who didn't really get a full deep dive, and yet (especially with TKT) we do get a lot to read into of her. She wanted to be the cause of change, and yet in spite of joining a group that advocated for people having better lives, they... mostly sat in their chairs and talked about stuff rather than doing it, and seeing Sonya's people seeming to be doing things when she left a long time ago is part of why she's not doing so hot right now.

From my notes: Just like Rodion, Ayin tried to do something to change the world around him, only to (effectively) make things worse in the short term. Rodion killed the landlady, who had ties to the Middle; Ayin took over a wing, but that led to the collapse of both L Corps, the stigma of all L Corp citizens, and many people suffering. 

Sinclair was originally just a normal Nest kid with well-to-do parents, who was led astray by a female classmate. He would be led further into the palm of her hand until she causes tragedy to strike, with the people Kromer had led into his home with his key having slaughtered his family. When he goes back to his home with the Sinners, he is finally able to face his past and his trauma, and become a more courageous person. Sinclair also has a male friend who tries to get him to follow the correct path back in school.

Personally, I find this easy to see as being the Carmen-Ayin-Benjamin effect, and we'll get back to that later.

Outis.... has not yet got her Canto, and given her military history it is almost certain that she was a participant in the Smoke War. In which case she would have known Ayin and/or Benjamin, no matter whether it's over the battlefield or in person. Given that she looks very similar to a character who should have known them, the latter seems more likely. She's also said some sus things on that.

I'm sure we'll get to know more about her as we go, but there was a moment during Canto 7 recently, where she's having a knee-jerk reaction to finding out that Don Quixote (read: Sancho) is actually a bloodfiend, and a lot of her objections are due to how many people Don Quixote must have killed. Partway through, it becomes clear that We Aren't Talking About Don Quixote Anymore, and Dante makes it clear that their support isn't just for one of them:

Outis "You don't know how many people she's killed by existing. will you embrace her still?" Dante <I will.>

Like, we don't know much about her for fact other than this so far (and she's started changing because of it since) but I feel like that assurance is going to come up for more than just Don Quixote and Outis. If nothing else, it's an extension of how in both Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina, countless people are sacrificed in the name of the "greater good" - or one person's quest for revenge, or their own desire - and each one of the people who spearheaded those projects (Ayin, Hokma, Roland, Angela) could have this same question turned on them only too easily.

Gregor is an outcast, created by G-Corp, who has Sephirot symbols on the fabric covering his arm, and who participated in the Smoke War (on the side of the old L-Corp, against Ayin and Hokma). While serving in the war, he was the figurehead of his group; however, he was just as much a pawn of the military as any of them... much like how Ayin sure seems to be the one in charge and someone for those he's in charge of to look up to... only for it to turn out that he's just as trapped as the other Sephirot, and he had just as many issues as those in the Outskirts lab.

So. The Sinners as a group are cohesively tied to extrapolating on plot points and the characterisation of either Ayin or someone Ayin knew on a very personal level. The other point being "they may even have known him during the Smoke War, give or take."

The Ayin Narrative continues. It isn't about "his story is over," it's about "how do we further explain who he was, and why he did the things that he did." Even if you don't believe that Dante themself is simply amnesiac clock-headed Ayin, these are immutable facts.

Which then takes us on to the other side of the Cantos: the Bad Guys. The Villains. Sometimes even just The Opposition, as there isn't always a clear Good vs. Evil here, and this time I'll be going more in chronological order.

Hermann is Gregor's mother, and she was the one who was the head scientist of the old G Corp, and the head of the current antagonist group in Limbus to the Sinners. She's the one who "trained" Gregor -and when he encounters her in his Fathoms of Ego, it's by way of the manicured hands coming down to crush them, which they cannot escape, to the point that Gregor realises that the only way out is to let her catch them. It's more metaphorical than we'd usually get, but - he truly does exist in the palm of her hand, wouldn't you say?

Rodya's enemy is, really, the Syndicates of the Backstreets, and the system itself - she tries to fight against it, only for it to come back and crush everything around her, leaving her alive. Which is much like the way the Head came down on the Outskirts lab, isn't it? That said,

Sonya, who she had fallen in with, also wanted to change the world... although unlike Carmen, he never (at least, while she knew him) was able to move forward with any of his plans, meaning that people continued to get crushed under the system while he waited for the right time. What is like Carmen, is that he wanted all of the good effects of activism without dirtying his hands himself (Sonya can't argue that he simply let Rodya do her thing, and Carmen outright left the hard work to Ayin when she knew she wouldn't have the heart to go through with it).

Kromer is a religious fanatic who sees humanity as at its purest form when there is only flesh, no prosthetics whatsoever, and will use absolute violence against "heretics." She also isolated Sinclair from the one who would have been a good influence on him, and she used whistling to call to him. She was very attached to Sinclair, and wanted to make him into her own image - as seen in the mirror Identity "The One Who Shall Grip - Sinclair."

Kromer is basically an entire reference to how in Library of Ruina, Roland calls Carmen a "cult leader." Both Kromer and Carmen wanted something that is an unrealistic standard (humans into monsters/humans without any accommodations for disabilities etc) and both have a younger male character under their proverbial wing, in the palm of her hand.

The "bad guys" in Canto IV are not so much a single person or "evil organisation" as they are the Wing and the System of T-Corp, the breaking down of the League of Nine Litterateurs, and then the former members of his friend group coming back, yet this time in opposition to him... just as the Outskirts lab would fold in on itself, before being sold out to the Head, and the Sephirot holding everything against Ayin while he was managing the abnormalities from his office in a time loop.

Ahab of Canto VI is, like with many others, the woman who is so charismatic that she pulls an entire group of people along with her, and although she tells herself that she's doing this for them, and that they're dying in "glory" they... really aren't, and she's driving them off the edge, pulling them along in fanaticism. Ishmael refers to Ahab as her own personal Pallid Whale, recreating Ishmael in her image of endless hatred and violence.

Although Carmen isn't as outright violent as Ahab, she's more... indirectly violent. She knows that the experiments are going to cause deaths, and she sets them up regardless. She draws people in, and stops Ayin from being able to discourage them if they aren't ready. She is the pallid whale to Ayin's mermaid, following after her and becoming just like her. It's only due to the Seed of Light project having his fingerprints at the end that saves him from basically becoming "Adam."

Cathy... is someone who has Carmen's "weak heart," who "dies" because she gains the notion that something has gone wrong (Enoch's death/Heathcliff's absence and misery), who orchestrates events behind the scenes by being the emotion-powered generator of the lab and entire building that she'd altered. Sound familiar? We even have similar imagery there, given we have "Cathy in the coffin" and "Carmen [as] the Bucket."

Canto VII has Don Quixote (no, not that one) and Bari, who aren't even villains, and the bloodfiends, who... okay, kinda are, but the bloodfiends are acting on instinct, having been starved for far too long. Bari is someone who encourages a person who suffers from ennui to have something to look forward to, day after day. She tells him that he suffers from a "sickness of loneliness." He then takes what she's said, and creates an unrealistic dream from it, without thinking of the consequences and without thinking of how to make it a realistic reality.

In other words, Don Quixote (no, still not that one) has a grand dream that causes far more pain than he ever intended, to the point that in both the main world we play in and the mirror universes, the bloodfiends of La Manchaland rise up against him, having been suffering because of good intentions. Just like how Carmen had a grand dream, and because of it caused both her immediate team and then after them untold numbers of people to suffer, and to die for it.

Don Quixote sent Sancho (yes, that one) out on a journey to prove to him that his hypothesis (that bloodfiends and humans can coexist, that Sancho can have a grand adventure and come back better for it) only for Sancho to utterly break as a result, since she couldn't hold all of that on her shoulders on her own... much like after Carmen told Ayin to carry on her work after she was gone, Ayin also utterly broke.

So - not only do we get to see all of these different refractions of Ayin, but we also get to see each one of them faced with a refraction of Carmen. A possibility, a different circumstance,

The end result is that Ayin and Carmen are the threads that keep the Project Moon stories tied together. It is outright impossible to remove either of them from the narrative in any way that matters.

And going back to the title of the entire post:

This from Walpurgisnacht. The dev team and scenario/scriptwriters are well aware of what they're doing. Telling the stories of people who are fucked up human beings who are capable of falling face-flat on the mud and then getting up no matter how long it takes, and breaking their cycles no matter if it's even at the very last moment they could.

And the story of a Manager who keeps on refusing to let their people walk the wrong path.

In the really short:

"So, it's all Ayin and Carmen?" "Always has been."

[nakylvr]

— BREATH AWAY

sophia laforteza x loser!g!p reader

summary: sophia takes care of her members all day, only being vulnerable enough at night for you to take care of her. you don't think it's anything other than hooking up despite being absolutely in love with her. until the night she brings up something.

warnings/tags: nsfw content, language, 7th member!reader, they're not in a relationship, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cumming inside, not proofread

yeah so i made something based off this thought so what?

over the past few months, you didn't know what you were doing. to be fair, you didn't know since the beginning. you don't even remember how it started, it just...did. one night she came into your solo room and the rest was history.

you knew you shouldn't have feelings. feelings for your leader, you knew it wasn't going to work. but you couldn't help it. you were completely in love with sophia laforteza.

the first time it happened you thought it wouldn't go any further. only for the same thing to happen for months.

you tried not to show it at first, how down bad you were for the filipina. but it was obvious to the members, specifically megan and daniela who had been there the longest with you two since dream academy. you had fallen for her since the moment you saw her. who couldn't? you knew it was dumb, but you couldn't help it. to be fair, you didn't think you would end up debuting, but that's the least surprising thing that's happened in the year.

then, you started not being able to contain it. you showed signs, whether they were obvious or not to sophia was a whole other question. you got her favorite coffee every morning before anyone else was awake, you helped her with managing things that she couldn't do, you would linger around her more. you were basically a puppy doing everything for her attention. attention she only gave you at night.

she didn't have feelings for you in that way. you assumed that once it was months in. it was strictly hooking up. nothing else. she needed a stress reliever from everything, and that was you. you didn't mind it at first. but the more you thought about it, the more you realized there was no point.

so you stopped.

she would come into your room still, and you would pretend to be asleep. for multiple nights in a row. you stopped getting her coffee, you stopped hovering around her. that's when she knew something was wrong with you. but, she didn't know what to do about it.

it was awkward for some time between you two. but you figured this was better. you were breaking your heart slowly but surely every time it happened knowing she won't see you that way. you'd rather have the awkwardness than losing your sanity and heart.

you don't know why you were watching her live, she was in the next room, you could hear the music faintly as you sat on your bed. but you were. mindlessly listening to her talk, not really paying attention until she said something that caught your ear.

"yeah, i'd want kids– IN THE FUTURE." she emphasizes, eyes wide while shaking her hand to keep it from blowing up in her face.

you knew she was talking about someone else. you were in the present, but you wouldn't be in her future like you wanted to be. you were okay with that. you could come to terms with that. you turned off your phone and rolled over onto your side, curling up in on yourself and closing your eyes, still hearing the music in the background.

you wouldn't be hers really, and you could come to terms with that.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

it was barely six in the morning when your door slowly creaked open, and you groggily opened your eyes to see sophia standing in the doorway.

"yn?"

you tensed up. she knew you were awake, you were staring right at her trying to calm your irregular heartbeat down from exploding out of your chest.

"yeah?" you respond quietly.

"can i come in?" she asks hesitantly.

"sure," you reply, sliding up to rest your back against the headboard.

sophia walks inside, closing and not-so-subtly locking the door behind her, making your breath hitch in your throat. she makes her way over to you slowly, every step making it harder for you to breathe when you see she's only wearing one of your hoodies and judging by her bare legs, only in her panties underneath it. she stops in front of you and climbs onto the bed next to you. she looks at you silently, waiting for you to say something, but you can't get anything out. you're staring back at her with your pupils already dilated just at the sight of her in silence.

her hands move to cup your face, her thumb drawing small circles on your cheek as she slowly leans in and kisses you softly. you can't help the little noise of surprise that escapes your throat when her lips touch yours, your face turning red embarrassingly. to her surprise, you kiss back. your lips move against hers perfectly, and you forget for just a moment that this is the most you'll get from her.

"wait," you quickly pull away, panting a little bit.

"what's wrong?" sophia asks.

"what about the girls? i don't–"

"they're crashing at emily's for her birthday, remember?" sophia cuts you off. "it's just us here." a moment of silence passes between you two. "do you want this?" she asks you.

it takes you a minute to answer. you don't know what you want anymore. the only thing you want is her, and her completely.

"yes."

a small smile curls on her lips and she nods before kissing you again.

you're not sure how it happened. your shirt and sweatpants off tossed somewhere in the room, your boxers at your ankles, sophia naked under you. but you don't care. not right now.

you pull your lips away from hers to breathe, trying to keep yourself from busting immediately. you sit up and reach into your bedside drawer, finding a condom and taking it when sophia suddenly grabs your wrist, making you freeze.

"you don't need that," she says.

your eyes widen slightly. sophia, the one who always insisted on you wearing a condom letting you go in raw? you thought she was joking, but the look in her eyes told you otherwise. with a nod, you toss it back in the drawer and position yourself on your forearms near her head.

looking down at her, you search her eyes for approval, and when she gives you a nod you slowly push inside her. a moan comes from both of you at the feeling, her arms wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer. once you're all the way in, you stop for a moment, giving her time to adjust and you to calm yourself down from the feeling of her warm, wet walls snug around you.

"please," she breathes out.

you slowly start moving your hips, building a steady rhythm making you both moan. "fuck..." you groan. "s-so tight." your eyes squeeze shut, breathy moans falling from your lips. "fuck, you feel so g-good, soph," you whimper.

soft moans escaped sophia's mouth without realizing, the noises right next to your ear only spurring you on further. her hand gripped your hair in a tight grip, tugging on it lightly. "faster– fuck, please, baby."

picking up your pace, sophia lets out a loud moan, tugging on your hair again as the sounds of the bed squeaking beneath you gets louder at every thrust you make. the dull pain in your head from pulling your hair has you opening your eyes, finally looking down and seeing her — eyes hooded, mouth agape with whines and moans falling from her lips that were swollen from kissing, chest heaving up and down. all because of you. "you're s' pretty like this," you murmur.

"oh, fuck!" sophia gasps when your thrusts start turning more rough, feeling the tip of your cock hit her g-spot. "right there, mahal, right– shit! mnnh you feel s-so good. making me feel so g-good, don't stop!" her moans proceed to get even louder, and you're grateful that the members are out of the house to not hear the sinful act you two were participating in. anyone would be able to tell with the way the bed was squeaking and the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly.

you slam your cock in and out of her, grunting every now and then with moans freely leaving your mouth. your eyes lock with hers, and she pulls you down into a kiss. one different feeling than the rest. one filled with all the love she had for you.

parting from the kiss, sophia rests her forehead on yours, her eyes staring up at you. she feels you throbbing inside her, twitching and desperate for release, and she decides now is the time.

"cum in me," she whispers.

"what?" your eyes go wide, your hips stuttering for a second.

sophia wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you impossibly closer so you were flush against her. "please, mahal. please, i want you– i want your cum in me, please. please, i need you so bad. wan-wanna have your babies– fuck, please!" she begs, tears building in her eyes.

your eyes darken at her words, feeling a newfound desire in you as you nod, your hips snapping against hers at a fast pace that had both of you moaning loudly. "gonna fill you up so good...gonna give you every last drop– fuck, you're so tight–"

sophia cuts you off by pulling you down into another kiss, mainly just you two panting against each other's lips. "i love you," she murmurs. "i love y-you so much, yn."

"i love you too," you reply without even thinking of what she said. "f-fuck, i'm gonna cum!" you whine.

"cum for me, baby," she tells you. "make me yours, please."

with a few more thrusts, you let out a long groan, spurts of your cum filling her up making her cum right after you, feeling her walls milk you for all your worth. you slouch against her, your arms sore from holding yourself up as you breath heavily to recompose yourself.

one of sophia's hands gently runs through your hair, her eyes closed while she also tries to catch her breath. when you pull your head from her neck, she opens her eyes and looks up at you. her hand pushes your hair out of your face and cups your cheek as she leans in, pressing a deep kiss on your lips. when she pulls away, she just smiles at you.

"i meant what i said, y'know," she says softly. "i love you, yn. and i want to have a family together."

your eyes widen, not being able to contain the surprise you felt as you tried to find any sign of her lying or just saying it to make you feel better. "really?" you can't help but ask.

"yeah." she nods. "i want to be with you, not whatever this is."

the smile that grows on your face has one growing on sophia's as you lean down and kiss her passionately. when you pull away, you both have matching smiles on your faces as you look at each other.

"i love you so much, sophia," you tell her.

"i love you too, yn," she immediately responds.

[stoneybun]

Another idea you'd love,

What if y/n is triggered by screaming and kinda by men in general, and they're visiting ted in LA (where the "do it for the bit" fiends live) and someone does some dumb screaming shit like that, and jschlatt, already annoyed, ushers them out of the area very quickly and calms them down, kinda telling them "hey its okay, you're safe w me" 

💕

YOU GET IT i always hated when ppl would do that in my high school,,, loud men are scary (but not our beloved) Schlatt x gn!reader, usage of toots and doll Schlatt has a crush on reader but doesn't really give a shit once he sees how panicked they get, instincts taking over.

Loud. That's all you could think, your head practically buzzing, the sensation even going into your eyes. This was a bad idea from the start, knowing you couldn't handle being in a group of guys like this. You were in LA for the time being, conveniently as Schlatt was also in town for something he was recording with Ted. Not like you could recall, especially not right now. It was at least manageable; currently you, Schlatt, Ted, Ludwig, Hasan, and multiple others you knew but just didn't have the energy to acknowledge. Drinking had been involved, having a drink in your own hand but it had barely been touched. Maybe a few sips to get your nerves down, but with how you kept bouncing your leg and chewing on the inside of your cheek, it was obvious it wasn't doing anything. You desperately were trying to get past this, to feel normal, but you never understood why it didn't ever work. Among the group, you noticed Schlatt a little more closed off right now. Not from you; if anything, you'd caught a few glances he was throwing your way. What you were oblivious to was the soft worry in his eyes when they'd land on you, only catching on to the look of his eyebrows being lightly furrowed, a look of aggravation on his face as the boys had started up yet another dumb bit. The buzzing in your head only grew louder as one of the boys let out a booming "THAT'S SO FUCKING-" Schlatt didn't bother even trying to listen to the rest. Enough was enough. He could see the way you flinched, your eyes widening as your gaze flicked to the boys as they were busting out laughs and profanities at one another. While he already had his own reasons to be unamused by this all right now, the sight of you looking like a scared puppy made his heart ache. He knew you needed space, fast, and he was more than happy to make it happen. Before you knew it, Schlatt's figure was looming over yours. "Hey," he murmured, hesitating before his hand ghosted over your back, just barely putting any pressure but you could feel the heat from his palm seep into your shirt. You blink, somewhat pulling yourself out of your trance and looking up at him. Really, you didn't need to say anything. He knew that look, the 'I'm physically here but not processing a single thing' look of your eyes as they were unfocused. "C'mon, toots," he whispers to you, genuinely being as soft as he could in that moment. He didn't want to make your overstimulation or anxiety sky rocket, knowing you probably were at a breaking point. You don't even process the pet name as he guides you to stand up, letting him take you out to a different room down the hall, seeming like a living room of sorts.

"Let's just sit 'n breathe for a minute, alright?" he coaxes you, making you just briefly nod since talking felt like too much. Something about him was different from guys you were used to being around, like you genuinely felt at ease; protected, even. "There y' go," he coos, not even really paying attention to how gentle he was being. Sure, the guy had the biggest crush known to man on you, but right now he wanted to make sure you weren't about to break down. You took precedence over those dumbasses. Schlatt lets you get comfortable first before he sat beside you, leaving a gap that was literally on the lines of being too close, swallowing a lump in his throat. He cared so deeply about you, feeling his heart leap when you slightly moved even closer to him. "...You can.. lay on me if ya want, y'know. They can be a lot, and-" You shut him up by just letting your head fall onto his shoulder, making him blink and turn his head to look down, watching as some of your hair fell into your face. He smiles at this, a soft chuckle rumbling in his throat as he lets his arm drape around your shoulders, shifting you so your head went onto his chest, your body lightly laying against his side. He let himself sink down into the couch, his legs spreading a little more than they already were as he just wanted to melt into the damn fabric and just relax with you like this, finally having some quiet. Well, almost; you could still faintly hear the boys. "I'm always here for ya, doll," he murmurs, letting himself rest his head on top of yours. Your heart already felt lighter, a soft smile on your face that makes Schlatt feel like his heart would give out.

[haedia]

Kiore Aldwir (my canon Rook): She has a ton of pics of their family cat, Fritter. If Fritter joins them at the Lighthouse, then there's tons of pics of Fritter with the Veilguard sons -- especially him and Assan doing cat (and cat + bird) things together.

More sobering and bittersweet, Kiore has a lot of candid shots of Lace and Varric while on their journey. It's only later that they realize that (probably) Lace took several candid shots of Kiore and Varric at various times as well: them trying to figure out a map, the Free March countryside behind them; them sitting together, probably swapping stories, if their shared smiles are anything to go off of; Varric clearly having a Bad Time playing cards with Kiore while they smirk at him.

Nera Aldwir (cousin of Kiore and supporting character to that story): Nera has a lot of city photography, both day and night, but she clearly prefers night time shots. Especially when the city is foggy or wet from rain or something like that. She also has a bunch of candid city life shots and pics of stray animals she comes across on her travels.

She also has several hidden folders in her photos app that contain pictures ranging from tastefully risqué to aggressively explicit. They were all taken with consent, of course. She just loves having reminders of her times spent with her favorite situationships (such as Elek and Illario).

Leandra Ingellvar: Leandra is really into astronomy and she no doubt figures out a way to do astronomy photography that isn't ass on her phone, for when she's stargazing and doesn't want to lug her actual equipment around. She also has some of the most stunning Nevarran countryside sunrise and sunset photos. She also likes to do nail art so she has a bunch of shots documenting her various designs she's given herself.

Vitali de Riva (unknowingly twin sibling to Lucius Mercar): they love their city, so most of their pics are of Treviso. Vitali has so many pictures of the skyline of Treviso at night, moonlit or just illuminated by the light cast by the city itself. They sometimes climb the spires of the palaces to get ever more abstracted shots of the city.

They like to play with distance and perspective to show Treviso from angles you otherwise never see. This also means they get right at the waters edge at the canals to take shots looking up at extreme angles and yes, they've lost multiple phones in the canals as a result (they tend to get emotional about Treviso when they're very drunk and so a lot of the water's edge shots happen then because their friends know better then to let them be alone when they get that way. If left to their own devices, Vitali would try to climb to take "beautiful pictures to show the world how beautiful Treviso is. Does she even know how beautiful she is??" "Vitali, Treviso is a city, I don't think she cares" "That makes it sadder!!" "C'mon, let's go home befeyou lose another phone in the canals" "... Okay.")

Lucius Mercar (unknowingly twin sibling to Vitali): Lucius takes more videos than photos, I think. Videos of street musicians; the dock cats lounging in the sun during a rare break in the drizzle; of boats navigating the harbor and of goods being unloaded at the docks. Lucius is an artist of some degree so they use these captured moments for inspiration for their drawings. They sometimes do dreamy to timelapse videos of the docks or the markets, where the figures walking through kind of meld into ghostly shapes. These videos become haunting to them later when Minrathous is devastated by the dragon.

what kind of photos would be on your rook's camera roll?

[virginiaisforvampires]

(Not the same anon) but what is interesting, is that people seem to miss that the rose-tinting was a part of Louis even when he WAS a human. In his confession scene, he tells the priest how he says that he is saving women and giving them opportunities but he KNOWS what he is actually doing to them. Louis has always been one to gloss over his darker side. Whether denying his job as a human, lying to Claudia about how and why she was turned, or his own part in the toxicity with Lestat.

It is an intrinsic, and honestly fascinating part of his character (and book Louis too) and it baffles me that so many fans just kind of miss that.

Indeed and it's such a shame.

I think a lot of it has to do with the current era of morality olympics (like everything else) and the nonsensical need to have a "good guy." And of course, it's also because they fell for the tale.

For example, certain ones were shocked and enraged in 2x02 when Louis did not give a shit about the coven having the murder party in the background of his little flirting session with Armand. They were asking things like "why didn't he stop it?!" and "why wasn't he calling Armand out?!" and "why did Louis not care?!" blah blah blah. It's just LOL ridiculous. Louis is not that guy and never has been. That's what makes him so amazing. Like, that's the entire point!

He's a vampire. You're watching a show about vampires. They're going to kill. They're going to do horrible things. Who gives a shit? THEY'RE VAMPIRES. It's just mind-boggling to see exactly how much people don't get it and how people cannot accept (or enjoy) gothic media for what it is.

I also think there's a lot of self-projection happening with Louis, and certain ones strip him of his agency and jumble the rich layers that make Louis Louis so it's easier for them to have their neat little self-insert. After all, the Loustat tag on AO3 is also being infiltrated with Louis as the submissive and breedable housewife to bad daddy Lestat, and I think we know what that's about. *cough* They want to be fucked by bad daddy Lestat. *cough*

For me, all that ^^ is LOL foolishness. The current approach to engaging with media — having self-induced outrage over things that don't fit their moral purity standards and using trendy buzzwords to sound intelligent and explain why said media is "problematic" in a bid to be awarded most virtuous — will. not. work. with this material, and it's sad and also pathetically hilarious to realize they're trying to apply the clickbait therapy-speak morality shit to a show about vampires.

They seem to have missed the moment in 2x01 when Louis turned his back on the humans in crisis and literally spelled it out — "Human affairs. Not our concern."

This is the Vampire Louis:

And he is bloody brilliant. If only certain ones could actually love him for him and not the cardboard piece of stale bread they've made up in their heads.

As for me, this is my Louis, and I adore him for everything he is and everything he isn't. ♥️🔥

[silverbriseis]

I think Tom/Voldemort(applying to either of them) deserve to have more fucked up humour in fics since it's basically canon.

Like let's be honest, both of them basically LIVE for weirding people out, you'd either be downright uncomfortable at best spending time with them or psychologically scarred/traumatized at worst. Young Tom was basically the most terrible kid in Wools orphanage with what he did to the rabbit and how he literally made two kids mute from some unnamed noodle incident. It's pretty clear even from the dialogue that he was practically on a powertrip, likely finding it humorous that the other children didn't have the power or magic to defend themselves.

Voldemort on the other hand, is more subtle with displays of psychological torment(when he isn't throwing around crucios) Eg. Calling Peter wormtail and taking numerous jabs at his cowardice and then joking about bellatrixes "highest pleasure" in that scene and then asking draco if he would babysit the cubs... lol

The only reason he doesn't come across like a guy who jokes around often is because most, if not all of his "jokes" are delivered very straightforwardly– and also most of his screentime is basically just torturing people, something he finds fun albeit it doesn't come across as jolly to the audience for obvious reasons

Like he's the type of guy to audibly snort at his own jokes, he probably used to write out edgy ass jokes along with anagrams of his name in that stupid diary of his— he probably thinks of himself as the pinnacle of hilarity along with being the greatest dark wizard who ever lived, hes like that boss who makes lots of cringe jokes and laughs afterwards then your forced to laugh aswell because you don't wanna get fired(do the DES actually find the jokes funny or is it just because it's Voldemort who's telling them? Guess we'll never know)

Also,

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

In joke form would sound like:

This is his sense of humor 100% in a nutshell, internally he thinks of himself as the funniest person ever because its soooo "unique" and definitely not like everyone elses

And the best thing??? He's completely socially aware of what constitutes as just "normal jokes" and "fucked up shit to say" when he isnt playing the subservient charmer act, he just doesn't CARE about appearing normal lmao

Sooo anyways Tomarry(mort if you want it) moment where they're maybe making out, and Tom pulls out just to monologue-

"Ah, I've never been so close to any soul but you and this special connection we share blooms further with every glance I devote to you, it shouldn't feel so significant yet it does undeniably so, our souls are connected just like how we are linked in blood, it is perhaps why we look so alike, we are releated after all—infact we share a common ancestor, we are practically family in roots. So tell me, Harry- how does it feel kissing your own flesh and blood?"

Tom laughs for a bit before leaning back in to kiss again and Harry is just gobsmacked in every single way like- 'Wtf??? I thought this was a makeout session and not a 23andme reveal??????'

Harry thought Tom was being serious for a minute and asking a question but Tom was genuinely fucking around In every way he just lowkey sucks In delivery LMDOEJSK

Also, Voldemort being dragged into a room of people(none of whom he likes) and the first thing he declares out loud is "Casting the impervious curse on everyone here would be deftly simple!" and everyone there just stops and stares at him like "????" And he laughs only to say something like "'Cease being so fretful, I am merely being humorous— unless..........."

Anyways, i could go on and on about scenarios like this LIKE let Tom/Vee be a little silly(murderously) He doesn't have to be serious/dark all the time!!!! Sometimes, he's just a jolly little fella who thinks he's the funniest person in the whole wide world(his murderous streak just adds to it, dont tell him the truth shhhh!)

Also, feel free to recommend fics here with a Voldemort/Tom like this because I would love to read them and im writing some of my own aswel!!l❤❤

[ageless-aislynn]

SPOILERS FOR THE ENDING OF MASS EFFECT 3

...if anybody cares. Yeah, it's been 13 years since it came out but hey, I'm just getting here myself, so I figured I ought to at least lob in a warning, just in case. 😉

Anyway, I'm not done yet but I realized, as I'm about to do the Priority: Rannoch mission, what's about to happen to Legion. 😭😭😭

Which has led me to really trying to figure out which ending I plan on going for. Note: despite this being my first trilogy playthrough, I've known about the various endings for years now, so I decided to try and RP my Shepard in the best way I can to achieve an ending that felt the most like he would've selected.

But here's the thing (as I'd imagine I'm hardly the first to struggle with): my Shepard doesn't want any of these endings. (My understanding may be off on certain points but this is the gist of what I understand about all of the endings.)

Synthesis offers the most survivors, with not only your Normandy crew including EDI but the Geth as well, though not Shepard. However, the incredible lack of consent just skeeves me out. Forcing every living being to be merged down to their DNA into an organic/synthetic hybrid is bad enough but the idea that this will keep the Reapers from continuing their cycle so therefore everybody's going to be fine is ignoring the fact that every species has fought amongst itself since time began. So what's to stop a future person/species from coming up with something that will wipe out all life anyway, no help from Reapers required? So, while I like the idea that EDI and the Geth survive (and even seem to thrive a bit more with them gaining organics), this ending is off the table for me and my Shep.

Control keeps EDI and the Geth alive as well as saves the Normandy crew but again sacrifices Shepard, just in a different way. Shepard merges with the Reapers to take them over and thus end their cycle of killing all organics in the universe. But this is predisposing that this new Shepard!Reaper being won't eventually be corrupted and decide to resume killing organics or certain species or whatever might be. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, after all, and Shepard isn't immune to that. Even worse, this ISN'T Shepard, this is a Reaper with Shepard's memories, creating a new being. If I were Shepard, I'd consider that all you're doing is HOPING that the Reapers don't, at some point, decide to restart their cycle but you've got no way to ensure that they won't.

Destroy is the only ending that I can see really being an option because the Reaper threat will be GONE. But you're also killing EDI and all of the Geth, including those Legion sacrificed itself to save and who have become your allies. To put it another way, it would be like saying, "Okay, we can guarantee that the Reapers will be destroyed but this will also kill all Turians, including Garrus." (Or insert name of other species/squadmate like Asari/Liara, Quarians/Tali, etc.) Would Shepard be willing to do that? I know he wouldn't want to sacrifice anybody, other than himself, and I think it sucks that no matter which ending you take, you have to sacrifice something significant. Yeah, I get that it makes it more realistic but, darn it, I get enough realism in real life, lol.

I also find it really odd that, according to the colors, Control is the Paragon choice and Destroy the Renegade one. I mean, yeah, Destroy and Renegade do go together but Shep becoming a Reaper Godlike being is Paragon? That just doesn't track for me. 🤔😬

There's also the fact that Destroy, with a high enough War Asset Score, is the only ending with a hint that Shepard survives.

At the moment, I'm leaning the most towards Destroy but, mannnnn, I wish there was a way to save EDI, whom I adore, and the Geth, whom I also love because of Legion and when they're allies and not shooting at me, lol! I'll have to just hope that someway, somehow, EDI and the allied Geth can somehow be resurrected, even if we don't see it in-game.

So, to those out there who've played the trilogy, which ending did you get/want? I'd love to hear about it! Let me just scribble down some notes as we chat...

😉Love you all, my friends, and I hope you're doing well! 💖

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 808: The jerseys competing for the lead!!

Pag 1

2: Onoda-san, now the lead have all left and entered the downhill towards the sea!!

3: Yeah!!

6: Do your best!!

Naruko-kun!! Imaizumi-kun!!

Pag 2 / 3

1: The men who are staring at the Inter High's first day's victory!!

(Congratulations!! 17 whole years of publication!!)

Pag 4

1: We're all here!!

Five teams, ten people!! These are

4: the jerseys

Pag 5

5: that are aiming

7: for the Inter High's first day's finish line!!

Pag 6

1: Let's go, Ninoshima!!

2: But be careful!!

Don't worry, Higashimura-san!! Downhills require courage and will-power!!

3: Don't leave any space!!

Those people are skilled!! The opposite lane

6: of the road, that we don't normally use and was closed for this race.....

7: Don't worry!!

Pag 7

1: They're using every inch of the inner side of the opposite lane!!

Ah!! There's only a small gap between them and the guardrail!!

Pag 8

2: I was bravely thinking of running as close to the guardrail as possible, yet in that tiny space on the inner side they....!?

I even moved before them exploiting the moment when Kyofushi and Gunam were talking... and yet!!

5: Downhills are all about “choosing a line” and “weight”, yon

Pag 9

1: Gunmaa!!

Yon

While taking the curve.... he gave me advice!!

2: Calm down, Ninoshima!! Just cling to them!! Follow me now!!

Dammit, and what was that about “choosing a pine” and “fruit juice”, Higashimura!!

…. no, he said “weight”*

(*NdT.: the words for 'weight' and 'fruit juice' sound the same in Japanese)

3: Ah, really

4: If in road racing downhills are all about choosing a line and weight, then it's easy!!

Pag 10

1: Sonomoto-chan

2: In MTB, on downhills there are so many bumps and trees' roots

3: Tires lose their grip, and you're busy trying to get traction and grip

4: In road racing, though, the tires are always on the ground!!

5: It's too easy, road racing

It even makes me

Pag 11

1: want to “play” a little!!

Pag 12

1: Uh-oh

4: What the hell was that just now!? Did their rear wheels slip!?

Did they let them slip!?

5: Huh...

7: Don't make such sudden grip turns

Sorry, since it's you I thought you'd get it

I did get it, but still (haha)

8: Kakaka, a friendly performance right before the Inter High's finish line!? You sure are confident, Gunma.san!!

9: Puku, what was that, so cool....

Puku

Pag 13

1: Are those the skills you cultivated through MTB? You originally raced in MTB, so you're showing off what you can do

Showing off how freely you can control your bike

So cool, will you

2: teach me too?

3: Teach me....

4: Teach

5: Number 41 is clinging to him!! He's getting too close

There's a left curve soon, get back....!!

Pag 14

1: me

me

me

2: Me me me me

3: We're in a curve, it's dangerous, so could you please back down a little?

4: Me me me me

5: Why won't you teach me that cool thing? Are you keeping it a secret from me?

6: Well, it's just that

Pag 15

1: I can't feel any impetus at all in your words, yon

2: You got me

Pag 16

1: They're taking the curve while his head is on his shoulder!! What incredible balance they have, Gunma's number 181 and Kyofushi's number 41!!

3: Even though the speed going downhill is frightening!!

4: But now, I

5: understand you a little, yon

Puku? Me? You understand me?

Pag 17

1: It seems like your impetus to win is fierce, yon

2: You too, you're not just a fancy small-fry

Not a small fry!!

Pag 18

2: Not bad

Yeah!!

3: Except for Hiroshima, who unexpectedly attacked earlier than usual, this lead is just what I had imagined

4: Kyofushi and Gunma too, even while arguing are still showing restraint

5: And Hakogaku too is carefully waiting

Pag 19

1: The real movement still hasn't happened

Get ready. If they move, we step on right away!!

Got it!!

2: 8km left until the finish line!!

3: There's no one else who'll join the final race for the finish line!!

Pag 20

2: Kakaka, what's wrong, Hotshot

Did you drop the energy bar in your pocket!?

3: No.... it's nothing, I just misheard

4: Sometimes, when I concentrate too much, I hear strange sounds

Ah, that's it!!

Pag 21

1: Kuaaaa

3: I hear...? A voice... and besides

Pag 22

1: I know it!!

2: No, that's impossible!!

He has probably fallen behind a lot with his team on the mountain!!

3: Moreover... there's no way with this “lead”...!!

4: No indeed, there's no way

I'm concentrating too hard, I'm even dreaming about the buddies training camp

6: Ah, there's one person catching up, yon

Yeah, the guy who was working so hard to cling to us

7: when we left the pack

Pag 23

1: I don't even know his name... the guy from the selected team

Pag 24

1: Kuaaaaaagh

2: That's the target!! That's the target we set!!

Pag 25

1: I'll catch up!! I will!! To the lead!!

2: Sugi.... moto!!

5: Now it's... eleven people!?

6: Insect....

[firstelevens]

23 + sambucky 💛

23. wearing someone's clothes

In spite of his phone buzzing for the sixth time in the space of two minutes, Sam doesn't bother to check it. He's not slacking on the job: he's flanked by other superheroes, all of whom would also be getting notifications if something world-threatening were happening, and he's got AJ and Cass and Sarah in his immediate field of view.

The frenetic buzzing of six--wait, no, make that seven--text messages in no time at all can only be the work of one person, and that person is safely ensconced at the palace in Birnin Zana, undoubtedly being as much of a nuisance to his friends there as he is to Sam.

There's not much of a question as to what the text messages say, so Sam lets them roll in undisturbed, and makes sure that all of the cameras catch him emphatically not checking his phone. Instead he brings his attention to the students in front of him, crouching down to get a better look at the device that they built in their environmental science club.

He points to the receptacle at the top--it's a water filtration system--and asks the group how it works. They're very excited to answer, and when Sam asks specific questions about the mechanisms and how hard the process was, he watches them light up. He talks to them for so long that one of the PR people has to gently nudge him along to another group. Sam's phone periodically keeps buzzing away in his pocket, but he ignores it in favor of talking to all the students, doing his best to ask relevant questions and toss around jokes to make the shy ones laugh.

The event ends with plenty of pictures and plenty of questions about his own wings and how they work, and when it's all over, he feels the same pleasant exhaustion that he feels after a good workout or a mission where things went to plan. In the car on the way back to the house, all AJ and Cass can talk about is how cool all the Stark prototypes were, and Sam promises to let them mess around in his workshop tomorrow so they can do some inventing of their own.

It's not until he's back home that he remembers to even check his phone, putting it on the charger and laughing when the screen lights up to reveal thirty-two text messages from Bucky. The last one came in just a minute ago, so Sam flops down on the cozy armchair in the corner, Bucky's favorite place to curl up on nights when sleep is hard to come by, and calls him back.

The phone barely rings once before Bucky answers, skipping a greeting entirely so he can say, "You stole my sweater!"

Sam laughs. "Hi to you, too, baby."

There's a huff on the other end of the line. "Hi, sweetheart. I miss you, and also, you stole my sweater."

"Did I?" asks Sam. "How do you know that it didn't just find its way into my side of the dresser? You're not very careful about keeping our things separate, you know."

"Yeah, I do know," says Bucky. "That's why when I was packing for Wakanda, I asked you, 'Sam, love of my overlong life, man I would do anything for, have you seen my favorite green sweater?' And when you said no, I asked if you checked your side and you said that it wasn't in your sweater drawer, either."

That's because it was strategically placed in a laundry basket under half a dozen polo shirts that Bucky would never touch, Sam doesn't explain. "Sounds like it just got misplaced, and maybe someone shouldn't wait to pack for their trips until half an hour before they leave."

"Yeah?" asks Bucky. "Is that what it sounds like, and not like someone had their eye on my sweater and waited until I was distracted to snipe it and wear it to a public event where he knew I'd see him on TV?"

"Well that's just silly, Buck. Who would do that?"

"It's impossible to say," replies Bucky, making Sam laugh. Then, after a moment of quiet, he adds, "It looks good on you."

"Thank you," says Sam, and it shouldn't still make warmth rush to his cheeks when Bucky compliments him, but here he is. "Does that mean I get to keep it?"

Bucky snorts. "Let's not get carried away, Wilson."

"That's hardly getting carried away; we just established that I wear it better than you do."

"When did we establish that?" sputters Bucky.

"Are you saying it's not true?"

"Of course not," replies Bucky, without hesitation. "I saw how your arms looked in that thing; it's a fucking revelation. That's not the point."

"Ooh, I've never been called a revelation before," teases Sam.

He expects another grouchy reply, but instead, Bucky just says, "Yes, you have."

Sam actually stops and pulls his phone away from his face to make sure he's still connected. "What was that?"

"Nothing," says Bucky. "Tell me about this science thing that was so important you had to steal my sweater for it."

"Uh-uh," says Sam. "Nope. You tell me who's going around calling me a revelation."

"Sam."

"Bucky."

"You know who it was."

And yeah, Sam's good enough at putting together evidence to get to that conclusion, but he wants to hear it from Bucky all the same. "Tell me anyway?"

"All those times when you crashed into my life in all those different cities, you brought something with you. Do you remember that?"

As if Sam could ever forget. "My folks raised me never to show up empty handed, you know that."

It had been more than that, of course. He hadn't known how else to get Bucky to trust him, sure he was still struggling to trust himself most days. The whole point had been to make sure that Bucky was safe and whole, so the first time Sam managed to cross paths with him, he'd brought a loaf of bread and some strawberries from a roadside stall. Another time, it had been flowers, other times cups of coffee or books.

"Every time you showed up and forced me to take the thing you were giving me, I had to figure out how to be a person about it. I'd forgotten what it was to be annoyed or impatient or to want someone to stay even when you knew they couldn't."

Sam's breath catches in his throat a little, but Bucky doesn't stop.

"And then you would just talk at me for a couple minutes, and then you'd get your stuff and be on your way, and I'd have to find a safe place where I could face up to the fact that you knocked me on my ass with some wilted daisies that you bought for five euros. What else do you call someone who brings you a part of you that you thought you'd never see again?"

"What the fuck, Barnes?" breathes Sam, rasping a little because of the sudden lump in his throat.

"It's the truth!" says Bucky, suddenly defensive.

"Yeah, well, you couldn't have waited to share that truth until I could hear it in person? So I could kiss the shit out of you the way you deserve?"

"Oh," Bucky says quietly. "You know, I could--"

"Absolutely not. Whatever you're thinking, absolutely not. You just managed to earn the Wakandans' trust again; you're not stealing a talon fighter for a booty call."

"It wouldn't be a booty call, Samuel."

"It would a little bit be a booty call, and Ayo would never let you hear the end of it."

Bucky huffs again. "Fine," he grouses. "But I'm coming home as soon as the last repair is done on my arm."

"Good," says Sam. "That'll give me time to steal the rest of your sweaters."

"Sam," Bucky all but whines, and Sam laughs in response.

"Fine. I'll only take most of your sweaters, and maybe one of your hoodies. Just one."

"If I say no, you're just gonna steal more, aren't you?"

"Probably," says Sam, shrugging even though Bucky can't see him.

Bucky sighs. "Fine," he says. "We'll work out a trade when I get home."

"Well, hurry back," says Sam. "I'm kind of curious about your negotiating tactics."

There's a loud laugh from Bucky's end, and Sam can still hear his smile when he speaks. "Back home as soon as possible, sweetheart," says Bucky.

"Gonna hold you to that, baby," says Sam. Then, just as Bucky's about to hang up, he tacks on, "I'm stealing your maroon sweater next!"

When he ends the call, Bucky's only halfway through indignantly crying his name.

[capriceandwhimsy]

Sailor Moon vs. The God Emperor of Man

As fun as it's been seeing the argument over who would win in terms of Sailor Moon vs. The God Emperor of Mankind, I think we're ignoring an important factor: setting rules.

Power Scalers always ignore that characters don't exist in a vacuum. They're a part of the universe they're in. And the universes of Sailor Moon and Warhammer 40,000 operate on very different themes and tropes.

=====

See, if Usagi and the Sailor Senshi were in the 40k universe, all their adventures would be portrayed as legends of an ancient time, before the current fallen state of the Galaxy. The major theme of Warhammer 40,000 being "The good old times are over, there is only decay and rot." It's not that all the things she did didn't happen, they just didn't mean anything when looked at through the lens of deep, DEEP time.

So Usagi would end up becoming the Queen of the Ancient Fallen Empire of the Moon Crystal Kingdom, and would be a million-year-old God Empress with her legions of Sailor Senshi super-soldiers, their bodies twisted and their minds degraded from aeons of battle against The Warp, each usage of their Sailor powers sapping some of their humanity until they are but empty husks of their former selves.

Each of the Sailor Senshi would be a hero model on a 50mm base and would cost about $40 msrp and 300 points to run. Usagi herself would be on a big oval base and be represented sitting on a giant crystal throne with an enormous number of crystal spires around her, shooting Moon Crystal Energy. She would be a god-level threat with the ability to destroy planets with a wave of her hand.

A named Ultramarine without a helmet would probably ruin all her plans and solo Sailor Mars. Because the only thing more powerful than galaxy-destroying psychic powers is plot armor.

=====

If The God-Emperor were in the Sailor Moon universe, he'd be a seasonal villain, like Queen Beryl or Sailor Galaxia. Each episode or two, he'd send a different Primarch to cause trouble, each of whom would use a different power set (Primarch Vulkan with his flame powers, Primarch Lion'el with his forestwalking powers and his skill at swords), and each one would be defeated by the Sailor Scouts.

At the end of the season, it would turn out that the Emperor's plan was to use up his Primarch Senshi and reclaim their soul energy, and thus enact his Great Crusade to conquer the galaxy. The Sailor Scouts would be slain, and Usagi would be destroyed, but at the moment of her death, she would have a vision of the Emperor as a young man, a scientist and a father who truly cared about his Primarchs and wanted to create mighty heroes to help humanity, but was twisted and turned to evil by the Lords of Chaos.

Usagi would defeat the Lords of Chaos with the help of the souls of the Sailor Senshi and the Lost Primarchs, as well as calling upon the last bit of nobility in the Emperor's Soul to help destroy the Lords of Chaos at their source.

In the end, the timeline would be reset, and all would be forgotten. But as Usagi goes to school the next day, she would find out that there's a new teacher at her school: Mister Jimmy Space, a transfer from another school. And he'd have brought nineteen new transfer students with him.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Four

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter just more cutesy fluff for now. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.9k

A/N : 😅😅😅they're both clueless, send help.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Master List

Chapter Four

True to his word, Billy appeared from his office at exactly midday.

For a few seconds, you forced yourself to keep your attention focused on your laptop and the invoice you were trying to finish, but Billy didn’t seem to want to wait. Without any sort of warning, he moved towards your desk and closed your laptop, barely giving you time to pull back your hands.

“Mr Russo, I was -” you started to complain, eyes fixed on the hand that was still holding your laptop shut.

“I said lunch at midday. It’s twelve-o-one now,” he said, almost managing to sound playful.

“You can’t be serious, I need to -”

You stopped yourself when you realised he was holding out his hand to you, expecting you to take it so he could lead you to lunch. And, for reasons far beyond your understanding, you did. It didn’t even cross your mind that you could refuse him as he helped you to your feet and held your coat as you slipped it on.

You didn’t even really think about the way his hand found the small of your back and he moved you both towards the elevator.

When you dared to look at him, you found the strangest little smile on his lips. The whole thing felt surreal, almost so much so that you had to wonder if you’d fallen asleep at your desk.

But, if you were sleeping, your surreal dream quickly became a nightmare as the elevator paused on the fifth floor and Jenny, one of Anvil’s analysts (not to mention the biggest gossip in the building) stepped on. She flashed you a smile before her attention completely shifted to Billy.

“Good afternoon, Mr Russo,” she greeted cheerfully. And, of course she was cheerful - Billy’s hand was still on your back, giving her plenty to talk about once she stepped off on the third floor.

Billy returned her greeting, seemingly oblivious to what the smirk on her lips meant and how she probably felt like she was already bursting to tell someone what she’d just witnessed.

She was there for less than fifteen seconds, but it was more than long enough. The damage was done and, soon enough, everyone who hadn’t seen the photos on the gossip blog would know that there was something going on between you and Billy.

You slumped a little and let out a sigh as she stepped off the elevator, but Billy said nothing; either because he didn’t know or didn’t care about her reputation.

(Or, maybe, he was glad - gossip around the office would certainly help sell the lie.)

When you stepped out into the foyer with him, you forced a smile, giving Carl a little wave as you passed the security desk while Billy remained stuck to your side.

The moment you were outside, his hand dropped from your back and you felt his fingers brush against yours. Instinctively, you pulled your hand away, feeling your whole face start to warm. Looking at him, you expected to see annoyance but, instead there was something else, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

He waited a beat before asking; “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered. “Sorry, I’m just... still getting used to the idea of doing this at work.”

“I know,” he said, a hint of genuine regret in his voice. “I’m sorry it’s all so much, so fast. If we had more time...”

Honestly, you weren’t sure what more time would really change. It would still all result in the same thing; your co-workers looking at you like you didn’t deserve your job and believing that you were getting special treatment. At least this way, you supposed, the band-aid had been ripped off and the likelihood of it getting any worse was slim.

Instead of trying to placate him with some lie about it all being fine, you reached for his hand and took it in your own before leading him across the street and into The Bean Grinder.

He fell into step behind you, looking around the little coffee shop that he’d never bothered to set foot in before. You came to a stop in front of the refrigerators, browsing the food selection before settling on a panini. Billy followed your lead and grabbed something for himself. Then he watched with a thinly veiled curiosity while you made small talk with the barista preparing your drinks and heating your food.

Everyone in there knew who Billy was, even if he’d never darkened their door before and, if the looks you’d gotten that morning were anything to go by, they all knew who he was to you. (Who he was pretending to be to you.)

Soon enough you were sitting by the window, Billy sat opposite. You both fell into a strange sort of quiet, one that wasn’t quite  uncomfortable but that left you feeling like something should be said. 

But it wasn’t you that chose to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?” He said.  You didn’t answer save for the slightest of nods, but it was all Billy needed to continue. “What is it about all of this that makes you so uncomfortable?”

You thought for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, I just don’t like other people being in my business.”

Billy gave a knowing hum as he lifted his panini and took a bite, his eyes remained fixed on you.

“I get it,” he said a few seconds later, “I guess I should’ve anticipated this.”

This? What did this mean? Was he already reconsidering the whole arrangement? 

For the few short moments he allowed you to spiral, you found yourself panicking. Surely things would be worse if he dropped you now; people would think you were like the other women he’d dated, or they’d assume that he'd only wanted you out of boredom, or worse pity. You wouldn’t be able to stay at Anvil, it would be too embarrassing, it would -

“I know you like to keep to yourself a lot,” Billy continued, not seeming to notice your discomfort. “I’m sorry, I should have at least tried to prepare you for what this is like.”

You waited a moment, waiting for him to drop the bombshell and tell you that he’d changed his mind. But it never came. 

“I just don’t know how you can stand them always wanting to know every little thing about you,” you finally said.

Billy shrugged. “I went from no one caring, to some people caring too much.” He paused to take another bite from his panini, prompting you to do the same. “At least we can try to control the narrative this way.”

You nodded and allowed another silence to fall while you both ate. Bily didn’t speak again until he saw you wrapping your fingers around your coffee mug, trying to warm them.

“Cold?”

“My hands are always cold,” you said.

You both returned your attentions to your respective lunches and you wondered if you should be doing more, trying to make conversation. Usually when you came into the little coffee shop for lunch, you were alone and you’d spend the whole hour reading or listening to a podcast on your phone and, while his company didn’t feel intrusive, you weren’t sure what to do with it.

“Do you like to run?” He asked, brushing crumbs from his lips.

“Only if I’m trying to get away from a bear.”

One of those strange laughs escaped him, the kind that seemed too real for what this was, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“Why?”

“I like to run through Central Park in the morning, I thought maybe you’d like to join me,” Billy offered. You know, like you were saying - doing fun things together,” he explained.

You didn’t need to stop and wonder if people would be paying attention to things like that. You knew for a fact that they did. Only a couple of months ago, your google alert had pinged with a very sweaty looking photo of him and some story about how he kept in shape since leaving the Marines - though, really, the article had been more focused on the fact that he still had a smoking hot body years after leaving the Marines.

“And that’s... fun for you? You asked after a beat, an almost teasing tone filling your voice. “Getting up early and running in the freezing cold?”

Billy smiled. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say half of the fun was stopping at the waffle truck on the other side of the park.”

The promise of waffles had you perking up.

“I guess we can try,” you offered, deciding it was only fair when you were dragging him to a movie festival you were certain he wouldn’t enjoy. “I haven’t really run anywhere since high school though...” 

You were already embarrassed, knowing that you’d look ridiculous trying to run with him. It wasn’t something you’d ever really thought about before, but just from looking at him, you knew Billy was in far better shape than you’d ever been.

But, at the same time, you tried to think of it as an opportunity. For years you’d been telling yourself that you should try to be a bit more active, even if it was just walking sometimes instead of always taking the subway. You’d just never really done more because the prospect of going to the gym or going to a yoga class on your own always felt a little daunting.

“We don’t have to run,” Billy said, somehow reading your mind, “we can just walk around the park.”

And that was how you ended up in Central Park at seven in the morning, shivering under your thick hoodie and wool hat. Billy was already there waiting for you, wearing a pair of fitted joggers that really accentuated his -

Okay. No. That was a thought you really didn’t want to think.

He smiled and, before you knew it, you were in his arms and he was  kissing you and... well, you weren’t sure it was something you were ever going to get used to. After only a couple of days, he was already going all in on the performance. It probably should have unsettled you just how easy it seemed to be for him, how he managed to turn on the charm and pretend like you were the most important person in the world to him.

But you chose not to think about it.

(Thinking about it meant wondering if he was a sociopath and that wouldn’t help you pay for your brother’s care.)

“Ready?”  He asked.

“Sure. I think?” 

You weren’t ready. Not even a little bit. All you could think about was how you were going to manage ten meters and then be so out of breath that you’d faint, or you’d clumsily manage to fall over your own feet and end up face-planting in front of him.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he said, going through the effort of fighting back a smirk, but he didn’t give you time to answer back before starting to move, “c’mon.”

He went slowly, more of a walk than a jog and you fell into step beside him.

“How far to the waffle truck?” You asked after about five minutes, smiling at how ridiculous the whole thing was.

“We’ll get there sooner if you want to pick up the pace a little?”

You were feeling warmed up enough to go a little faster, though what you ended up doing was still barely a jog, but it felt - not nice, but bearable in a way you hadn’t expected. There was a familiar ache in your lungs, but you tried to ignore it. You knew your body well enough to know your limits in that regard.

Fifteen minutes was all you managed at the faster pace before you started to slow, sucking in deep and awkward breaths as Billy fell in beside you.

“Sorry,” you managed before awkwardly having to cover your mouth to cough, the cold air exacerbating the sudden ache in your lungs. 

Billy came to a complete standstill, his hand finding your shoulder as you tried to suppress a coughing fit. He bowed his head a little, trying to catch your gaze while you very obviously tried to look anywhere but at him, until his hand moved to your cold but clammy cheek.

“Are you okay?” He asked, seeming more concerned than you thought he really had any right to be.

You nodded and tried to force a smile. “Fine. Sorry... told you it’s been a long time since -”

Another series of awkward coughs cut you off, leaving you gasping to catch your breath, while Billy awkwardly led you to a nearby bench and sat you down, crouching in front of you. Fortunately your face already felt like it was burning, so your embarrassment was slightly easier to ignore.

“Sorry,” you offered again.

“Don’t apologise. Why are you apologising?”

You didn’t expect to see concern on his face, or feel the warmth of his hand on your thigh bleeding through your leggings. 

Once your breathing settled a little and you were certain you wouldn’t start coughing again, you gave him a sheepish sort of look.

“I’m -”

“I told you, don’t apologise.”

“But I -” 

Just one look from him was enough to stop you from finishing the statement.

“Are you okay?” He asked this time slightly more firmly, his his hand still lightly gripping your thigh, and his eyes - fuck, his dark eyes were fixed on yours.

You managed a nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

For a few long, uncomfortable seconds he continued to look at you as if he didn’t believe you, but he seemed to decide against asking what might be wrong.

“Want to go get some waffles and a coffee?” He asked and, again, you nodded. “C’mon then.”

Billy slowly, reluctantly, stood back up and offered you his hand, and you took it without really thinking. 

You got to your feet and tried to ignore the sudden tension in his body, the way he was looking at you like he was worried he might have to catch you if you fell. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that you’d overdone it a little, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to explain it to him, didn’t want to have to tell him more about yourself than was strictly necessary.

With your hand in his, the pair of you walked the rest of the way across the park to the waffle truck. You could tell from the little looks Billy was giving you that he wanted to ask if you were alright,  but you were glad when he didn’t.

Instead, what he did say when the pair of you were finally standing at a table with hot  waffles and coffee was; “we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want.”

And, again, you felt that awkward feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“No,” you protested, perhaps a little too quickly. “I want to. I just... I think I overestimated myself. Maybe we could just try walking next time? I mean... if that’s okay? I don’t want to ruin your exercise routine or anything.”

The moment you realised you were babbling, you stopped yourself and quickly took a bite of waffle, pointedly trying to ignore the way Billy was smiling at you.

You wondered if he knew he was doing it, if it was all part of the act, or if that was just how he was with everyone and you’d only just allowed yourself to notice.. Already you were starting to understand how he charmed so many women, there was just something about him, something magnetic.

If you hadn’t been a party to the lie, you couldn’t help but think how easily you might have fallen for his charms.

“We can walk,” he said without a second thought. “I don’t think six months of walking is going to destroy my figure.

You decided not to comment on that. In fact, you were still very much making a point of not thinking about his figure at all.

It got easier. Not just the morning not-runs, but being around him, spending time with him - though you still struggled every time you saw your picture pop up on some gossip blog.

You fell into a rhythm with him, your lives slotting together in the strangest of ways; lunches together whenever he was in the office for it, walking through the park every other morning, and he even managed to convince you to let him take you out to dinner a couple more times.

You’d talk about books and movies, the news, and other little things that didn’t affect your lives in any meaningful way. But, every now and then, one of you would open up and let slip something real without seeming to mean to. It was how you’d found out that he’d grown up in foster care, and how he learned that you’d mostly been raised by your aunt.

In less than two weeks, he’d gone from being your boss to being someone who, under any other circumstances, you would have considered a friend. And, if you hadn’t known any better, you might have convinced yourself that you really were in a relationship with him.

And the pair of you had managed to convince everyone else.

By the time the horror movie festival rolled around, you were so comfortable with his presence that you were almost looking forward to spending the whole day with him, even if that day would be spent in a movie theatre, making him watch movies you were sure he wouldn’t enjoy.

Shivering, you looked at your watch before checking your phone. 

The first movie was due to start in fifteen minutes and he still wasn’t there. For a horrible moment you dared to think he was going to stand you up, that he’d had enough of you and the ridiculous scheme.

The thought hurt even though you knew that there was nothing between you, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought about what would happen after everything, the harder it became to deny that you’d miss him. 

Even if he was only showing you some small part of himself, you liked that piece. You liked his silly jokes and how utterly clueless he seemed sometimes, and you loved sitting with him and just listening to him talk about books. You enjoyed being around him and you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

So, when his driver pulled up outside the theatre, you breathed an audible sigh of relief, replacing the anxious look on your face with a smile as you moved to greet him.

Billy met you halfway, smiling that smile as he wrapped an arm around you and kissed you. And that was something you were getting used to too; how tactile he was and how he always seemed more at ease when he was touching you.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he pulled back, leaving one arm around you while the other arm lifted to present you with a bag. “I stopped off to get you something.”

For a few seconds all you could do was stare at the fancy looking boutique bag in his hand (from the same boutique the dress had come from) before frowning at him.

“You got me a present?”

He didn’t answer, just shook the bag, waiting for you to take it.

So you did.

Cautiously, you peered inside, pulling aside the tissue paper before pulling out a pair of fleece-lined leather gloves. Your first thought was about how much they probably cost, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sweetness of the gesture. It had been almost two weeks since you’d made the comment about your hands always being cold, and he’d seemingly remembered.

Your cheeks warmed at the gesture and you found yourself lost for words.

“Are you going to try them on?” He asked.

You did, immediately noticing how he’d made sure to remove the tags and hadn’t left the receipt in the bag. They were perfect - the perfect fit, the softest lining, and the light grey colour complimented your coat. (You were starting to think that Billy had missed his calling as a stylist.)

Still; “you shouldn’t have.”

Again there was that flicker of confusion and discomfort on his face, like he wasn’t capable of understanding that you didn’t need or want him to shower you with expensive things.

“But they’re lovely,” you quickly added. “Thank you, Billy.”

You reached for him, lightly grasping the lapel of his coat as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Despite yourself, you lingered for a moment, pressed against his side.

“C’mon, or we’ll miss the first movie,” you finally said, reaching for his hand and tugging him inside the little theatre. 

As you queued for popcorn, you explained that you’d taken the liberty of planning the day, choosing the four movies that you were going to watch; The Omen, Pet Sematary (the original version), Dog Soldiers, and the 1988 remake of The Blob. Billy had no objections and didn’t even ask why you’d selected those movies.

He just followed your lead, not-so-sneakily reaching into your popcorn bucket as you pulled him towards the first screening.

Throughout The Omen, you snuck glances at him, finding yourself amused by how much attention he was giving the movie. You wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that you’d told him it was one of your favourites, or if it was just because he was genuinely enjoying it. His attacks on your popcorn bucket became more brazen and it wasn’t long before he was taking handfuls every time he reached across, but you didn’t mind.

Neither of you spoke until the credits started to roll.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Well, there’s two sequels,” you answered, barely holding back a laugh at the look on his face.

“Great, now I’m going to have to watch them too,” he grumbled.

The next movie, the original version of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary, was a more amusing affair, both of you desperately trying to stifle your laughter at the very dated special effects and the very obvious use of a doll as a stand-in for the demonic toddler in some scenes.

Every so often, Billy would nudge you with his elbow, smirking at something that had you rolling your eyes and trying to not burst into fits of giggles. But, as silly as it was, you both enjoyed it.

During the brief break between screenings you both got coffee and you got another bucket of popcorn - you offered to get one for Billy too, but he told you that he’d much rather steal yours. You didn’t even argue. You were just happy that he seemed to be having fun.

The next movie seemed to catch Billy’s attention a little more and it didn’t take much for you to think you knew why; Dog Soldiers was about a squad of British soldiers trying to survive a  night in the woods with werewolves.

You thought - though maybe in all honesty you completely imagined it - that you saw him flinch when the gory violence started. And it wasn’t until that moment that you realised you hadn’t considered Billy’s past when you chose to see that particular movie. You’d never really discussed his time in the Marines and you had no idea how it might have affected him, but it was something you should have considered before dragging him to watch a movie where soldiers were getting torn apart.

Without thinking too much about it, you reached across and took his hand in your, linking your fingers through his. Billy didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look away from the screen, he just gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as if he thought the gesture was for your comfort and not his.

As the movie came to an end, neither of you said anything about it and, as the 1988 remake of The Blob started to play, you were glad that he didn’t let go.

While you’d enjoyed the other three movies, there was something about The Blob that unsettled you, made you feel queasy even. Just the sight of people being smothered and devoured by the gelatinous monster had you shifting in your seat, your fingers tightening around his hand.

You didn’t want to think about why the movie made you feel that way, but you quickly started averting your gaze every time you thought someone was about to get Blob’d.

Your discomfort hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Billy had the good grace to wait until the credits were rolling before saying anything about it.

He gave you a gentle nudge with his elbow, making a point of keeping your hand in his.

“You’re fine with blood and gore but The Blob made you squirm?” He asked, obviously amused by the thought.

“It just looked so... gooey and gross,” you tried to explain, knowing that you couldn’t really put your actual feelings into words.

Just thinking about it had you visibly cringing. Billy almost laughed but thought better of it, realising just how uncomfortable you’d been. Instead, he shook his head and reached into the popcorn bucket with his free hand only to find it empty.

“Well, you clearly weren’t so grossed out that you couldn’t eat all the popcorn,” he joked, smiling softly, trying to cheer you up.

And it helped. You weren’t the sort of person to let a movie affect you for more than a few minutes; like all the other things that bothered you, The Blob was forced to the back of your mind and your attention was redirected to Billy.

“I’ll buy you another bucket for on the way home,” you retorted as you got to your feet and started to pull your coat on.

Billy followed suit and it wasn’t long before the pair of you were stepping out into the cold evening air. The fresh air was nice after so long inside, but the chill had you pressing into Billy’s side.

“So, what did you think?” You asked.

“I liked the one with the werewolves,” he said.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if that one was a little...” you trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“What?” Billy prompted, wrapping his arm around you when he noticed you were shivering.

“Y’know, the military stuff. I wasn’t sure if you’d...”

You felt silly, and you could feel your cheeks warming. His arm tightened around you, and you heard him let out a  slow exhale that almost sounded like a ‘huh’, finally understanding why you’d taken his hand during the film.

“No, it was fine,” he said after a beat, “I’m not - I mean, things like that don’t tend to get to me.”

“Oh, okay,” you said. “I just - I should’ve asked, I didn’t think -”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, still smiling softly. “You don’t need to look after me.”

You hadn’t even realised that was what you were doing but, when faced with the very obvious truth of the matter, it was impossible to deny it. You were trying to look after him. It was just what you did, you looked after the people you cared about.

And you did care about Billy. You weren’t sure how or why, but he was a friend now.

He continued talking, but you found your attention drawn elsewhere to something else - someone else. Across the street there was a camera pointed at the pair of you. It served as a sudden reminder that this wasn’t real and whatever you felt about Billy probably wasn’t reciprocated.

No matter how much fun you thought you were having together, he was only really there because he wanted the VDK contract.

You needed to remind yourself not to get used to any of it because, at the end of your six months, he’d probably want to go back to his normal life - a life that had no space in it for you.

You let out a soft sigh and it didn’t go unnoticed.

His gaze soon followed yours and he let out a sigh of his own.

“Sorry,” he muttered before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

The gesture might have felt sweeter if you hadn’t been questioning his motivations; was he doing it for you, or for the camera?

“It’s fine,” you answered, suddenly feeling despondent, “I knew what I was getting into.”

Again, his arm gave you a squeeze and he started to lead you towards the car.

“I had a lot of fun today,” he said, opening the car door for you and saving his driver the job.

You wanted to believe him, but for a few wonderful hours, you’d allowed yourself to almost forget about the reality of your situation. Even if he had enjoyed it, you doubted he had any intention of ever doing it again.

“Maybe we could watch the other Omen movies together some time?” He said as he got into the car beside you.

“Sure.”

Once you started, it was easy to spiral, to wonder if he was performing as much for you as everyone else

It shouldn’t have mattered to you. Like you’d told him only a couple of minutes previous, you’d known what you were getting into. But, still, it was depressing to think that it was all fake, that every smile and soft word was a lie.

“You okay?” He asked over the hum of the car engine.

“Yeah, just tired,” you shrugged, “it’s been a long day.”

Billy didn’t press you for more than that, allowing silence to fall until the car came to a stop outside your building.

You didn’t even try to argue as Billy got out of the car with you and took your hand. Every time he brought you home, he insisted on walking you in and, now, for reasons beyond your control, all you could think about was that he was only doing it so his driver thought the two of you were going upstairs to fuck.

And you hated it. You hated how one silly little thought had suddenly turned everything on its head and was making you tear apart every little moment that you spent with him.

He didn’t speak again until you were both in your apartment, and you were automatically moving towards the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee for both of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

It was clear from his tone that he knew there was something going on with you, but he hadn’t managed to put it together.

“It’s nothing,” you said, but could tell straight away that he didn’t buy it. “It’s stupid, I’m being stupid.”

You didn’t expect him to move behind you as you turned away, or for him to place a hand on your hip to turn you back towards him. Your back pressed against the kitchen counter as you looked at him, trying to decipher his expression.

“Tell me,” he said.

For a moment you almost imagined that you saw his eyes dropping to your lips, but why would he even think about kissing you when there was no one around to see it? (More to the point, why were you even wasting time thinking about it?)

You sighed, taking a moment to consider your words, and a moment more to ignore just how close he was standing.

“How much of it is real?” You dared to ask, feeling like an idiot the moment the words left your lips.

Billy’s confusion was palpable.

“How much of -” he shook his head. “I don’t understand. This is -”

“No, I know what this is,” you were quick to tell him. “I mean... you, when we’re together. I just...” You trailed off into a sigh and remained quiet for a few seconds. “Sometimes when I’m with you I can’t tell if you’re lying to me.”

Your cheeks started to warm and you had to force yourself to hold his gaze.

“I don’t understand,” he said again.

“I just... I don’t want you to lie to me or feel like you need to perform for me,” you explained, but the confusion remained clear on his face. “Like when you said you had fun today, I don’t even know if -”

“I did have fun today,” Billy interrupted. “I - I like spending time with you.”

“Oh.”

That one little sound was all you could manage and, for an indeterminate amount of time, you didn’t move. And neither did Billy. His hand was still on your hip, and his eyes were fixed on yours.

Then, again, you thought you saw his eyes drop to your lips.

It wasn’t until the coffee pot behind you started to sputter that Billy pulled away, taking a step back and heading to the fridge to grab some milk for your coffee. You turned away and grabbed a couple of mugs, and it was as if the strange moment had never happened.

You were on autopilot, finishing making the drink while Billy put the milk back in the fridge, then the pair of you headed to the sofa, like you always did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

No, you really didn’t want to talk about it, but you knew that you should. It had only been two weeks, what you’d managed to achieve so far was only the groundwork, and you couldn’t spend the next five months questioning his every motivation without driving yourself insane.

You blew lightly on your coffee, lost in thought for a few moments, trying to put all of your ridiculous feelings into words.

“I guess I just don’t want you to lie to me,” you said.

“Lie about what?”

“Spending time with me,” you answered, fixing your eyes on your drink. “I get that we don’t exactly like the same sorts of things, but I don’t want you to lie to me about it. It makes me feel shitty thinking that you might not really be enjoying yourself. I know it’s all pretend, but if you hate it, I’d rather know...”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that,” he said without hesitation. “I told you, I like spending time with you, even if our relationship isn’t real. But, going forward, just so we’re clear; I won’t lie to you. And, I hope you won’t lie to me, especially not when it’s just me and you.”

“So you want to watch the other Omen movies some time?”

Billy laughed, and you finally felt yourself relax. “I have to. I want to know what happens next.”

You gave a laugh of your own before drifting back into silence. You hadn’t been lying when you’d said that you were tired. As much as you loved movies, watching four back-to-back really took it out of you.

“We’ve got the gala on Friday,” he said when his mug was half empty. “Do you think you’re ready for it?”

You’d been trying not to think about it at all.

It was going to be an extravagant affair, with titans of industry from all over New York raising money for charity. You’d never been to anything like it and you were already certain that you were going to stick out like a sore thumb, but there were bound to be members of the Van Der Koy family there, and you needed to help convince them that Billy was a changed man.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you answered.

A/N : I promise that there will be a bit more movement on the plot in the next chapter, I just needed to lay the ground work and create some tension between Billy and reader (that and I've been enjoying the cutesy fluff). But, now that they've established their fake relationship, they're going to get to flaunt it next chapter.

For anyone keeping track, I'm hopefully going to try and get through the last few 500 follower celebration prompts over the weekend, so if I've not gotten to yours yet, I promise I'll get to it soon!

As always thanks so much for your support with the likes/comments/reblogs, I'm glad so many of you are enjoying the slow burn. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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