#hostess apron

[oporotheca]

Seeing all this talk about restaurant aus lately is making me giggle because I’ve been wanting to channel my former hostess energy into a hostess!reader x coworker(s) au for a while and I just know that I’ll be running back to my draft document about it after reading even a single paragraph about Satoru Gojo in a server uniform…

[diabetesinsider]

Skulls roses apron gathered hostess mid century funky punk goth gothic tattoo pocket lined lace cotton 25.25" L 40" W at hem ready to ship

Short...sweet...and to the point well describes this flirty skulls and roses gathered apron. It is fully lined, top stitched and sewn by me from all cotton fabric. The polka dot hip pocket is trimmed in white eyelet lace. There is a fluffy bow as tie in the back. It has a goth - punk - funky vibe...fun and kicky in a mid century hostess style. See what you think... READY TO SHIP This apron is 25 1/4" long by 40" wide at the hem, 22" wide at the waist with 29" long ties (80" end to end).

$35.00

[rafeslittlepup]

Sexist!Rafe and his friends are watching some sport in the living room and bunny brings in a tray of snacks or drinks for them and sits down next to Rafe and she starts asking questions about the game stuff and the guys just laugh at how clueless she is about it.

— bunnywife!reader interrupting boy zone

the game’s been blasting on the living room TV all afternoon, so loud, aggressive, and completely unintelligible to bunnywife. she’s been floating around the house in her little apron, putting out trays of finger sandwiches and cold beer like the doting hostess she is.

when she walks in, all dolled up with her hair in a bouncy half-up style and the smell of vanilla and sugar trailing behind her, she’s holding a tray with more snacks. homemade cookies, more cold beers, and more mini cucumber sandwiches.

rafe is sprawled on the couch, legs wide, one arm thrown over the backrest like he owns the whole world. he’s surrounded by his stupid friends. they’re all sweaty, red-faced, and yelling at the big screen like they’re actually on the field.

she gently places the tray on the coffee table, smoothing her skirt as she sits delicately beside rafe. she asks in her sweet little voice, “so… who’s the one in the red again? the quarterback?”

there’s a pause.

“jesus christ, rafe” one of them says grinning, “she’s adorable but she doesn’t know anything, huh?”

“she’s trying, alright?” rafe drawls, slipping his arm around her waist and tugging her in like a trophy. “bless her heart.”

she just blinks up at him, lips parted like she’s trying so hard to follow, but clearly has no idea what’s going on.

“she thought the referee was the coach,” another guy chokes out between laughs.

rafe chuckles low in his throat and pinches her chin between his fingers affectionately. “nah, don’t worry, sweetheart. you just keep makin’ those little cookies… leave the sports to men.”

and bunnywife, so obedient and clueless beams... “okay, rafey!”

[sweetiechenle]

omgg can i pls get a foodservice au haechan where you're both servers and competing for tips?? but make it flirtyyy

pairing: haechan x afab!reader

w.c.: 2.5k

warnings: mdni 18+, restaurant!au, you are both servers and its a competition, rivals to lovers(?), no foreplay only some oral (f receiving, haechan is impatient), haechan is mean (please spit in my mouth), unprotected sex (don't do this), creampie, dirty talk, haechan is a switch, pet names, dirty talk, you guys basically fuck in the walk in fridge.

requests are always open ＼( 'ω')／

trying to drown out the high-pitched blabber coming from your co-worker's mouth; yet as you moved around the kitchen, he only followed, ignoring the glares from the other staff. your manager comes out of his office only to tell you both to return to the front. you roll your eyes and turn toward him, ‘can you please tell haechan to stop gloating about his tips first? then I’ll get back to work’ 

taeyong sighed, rubbing his forehead, ‘haechan, stop talking about your tip money and get back to work’

haechan put his hands up in defense, ‘hey, im just trying to help y/n work harder, if they made as many tips as i do, we wouldn’t be having this conversation’ you gasp and grab lettuce from the salad bar, chucking it at his apron-donned torso. he jumped in surprise, reaching over to grab food and throw it back. before he could, taeyong stopped his, telling him to get his ass back to the front, haechan huffed, walking through the kitchen with you trailing behind.

you both stood near the hostess stand, ‘at least i’m not a kiss ass’ you said first smirking at him.

he smiled lightly, ‘how did you know i love to kiss ass?’

your smirk fell, he could never be serious, you rolled your eyes, giving him a small ‘whatever’ and turning your attention towards something else.

‘how about’ he bounces on his tip-toes rocking back and forth with a grin, ‘we have a little competition?’

you turn back towards him, ‘ugh, you’re so annoying’ you paused and his smile got wider, ‘what is it?’ you groaned.

‘at the end of the week, whoever gets the most tips win… winner gets a day off and… loser has to spend two hours in the walk-in fridge’ he explains.

your mouth hangs open, ‘you’re fucking crazy, one of us could die in there!’

he laughed, ‘oh, so you’re scared you’ll lose? come on, sweetheart, you've got all the right parts to make some good money’ he looks you up and down. it was normal for haechan to always act like a horndog; you’d normally ignore his antics, but now it was finally an opportunity to fight back.

you groaned again, ‘fine’, he outstretched his hand, you took it and shook, ‘i’ll do it’

you two would count your tips together after every shift, on monday he got the most almost $200, while you only got around $120. you decided to try a bit harder the next day, putting on your most expensive makeup, topping it off with bright red lipstick along with the tightest pants and shirt you could find. walking into work that morning, it felt like all eyes were on you, the kitchen staff were nicer to you, taeyong let you take a longer break, and felt like the guests were putting down a lot more money on the table then you anticipated. you tried being as nice as possible to everyone coming and going. you felt like you were always, but for this week you tried to go above and beyond, there was no fucking way you’d be spending two hours in the walk-in fridge. haechan could see right through your tactics; he followed you to the back of the kitchen, stopping you before you could do whatever you had planned. ‘i see you dressed up for today’ you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, turning around so your back was leaning on the wall.

‘jesus christ, you scared me’ he laughed and moved closer to you, trapping you between him and the wall, out of sight for anyone else.

he moved closer, his breath hitting the outer shell of your ear, ‘sweetheart, did you wear all that and get all pretty for these lazy, uptight assholes?’

you gulped, the heat from his tall, lean body radiating off and onto you. ‘i did it so i could win’ you said firmly, ignoring how your heart was beating so fast from haechan.

‘but you’re already so beautiful’ he lifted his hand to your face, gently cupping your cheek to make you look at him in the eyes. you noticed how deep and brown they were, his long eyelashes batting against his gorgeous skin. you always thought haechan was cute, but his boisterous personality made you get the ick one too many times. he dipped his head back towards your ear, his lips ghosted over your neck, making you shudder. you sighed, melting into his touch, ‘its cute to see you try though’. the heat left your body, you opened your eyes, and he was gone.

that night, you left with $300, way more than haechan.

-

the final day, you continued to do the same, dress in the tightest outfit ever, and caked in makeup. the hostess had called in, you begged taeyong to not put you at that station for the day, opting haechan as a better fit. he agreed, but only if you’d help clean the kitchen later before closing. you immediately agreed, thanking him for keeping you at the server station. when haechan came in later that morning, he was furious. chenle, the shift lead, told him he would have to be the host for today, making him storm off and barge into taeyongs office. you and chenle listened in through the door, giggling as you watched haechan walk out five minutes later without his apron on and a button-up shirt just for hosts.

he heard you giggling and snapped his head towards the sound, ‘you think this is funny?’ he sneered.

you basically skipped over to the host stand, making him roll his eyes and groan as you looked up to him with a beaming smile, ‘it's actually fucking hilarious’

he clenched his jaw, trying not to show his anger too much, ‘at least i’m not some cheap slut parading myself around for tips’ he moved closer to you, ‘basically begging for something to happen… now get the fuck back to work’ he turned back around to the host stand. you watched, mouth shut tight into a thin line, smile long forgotten due to his outburst, the comment hitting deep. he busied himself organizing a stack of menus, and you just walked to the kitchen, trying to forget that any of this had happened.

later that evening, just as you promised before, you stayed to help clean the kitchen. the staff was dwindling down as the night grew darker, co-workers saying their goodbyes and ‘have a good night’. taeyong called your name from his office. you walked back to find him standing at his small desk, getting his stuff together, ‘i have to leave, personal stuff, haechan is still here’ he handed you his keys ‘are you good to lock up after you two are done?’

you were caught off guard. could you both be trusted? obviously not, but that was a topic of discussion for another day. ‘oh, um, sure’ he smiled and bid you a good night and left. you watched as he left the restaurant, haechan also watching from the dining area. when taeyong was out of sight, the taller boy stood up and walked over to the entrance to the kitchen, where you had followed your manager out.

‘well’ he sighed, catching your attention, ‘looks like you won… gonna lock me in the fridge now?’

you didn’t think he was serious, but you committed to the bit, ‘yeah, i’ll come let you out after your two hours’ you walked him to the entrance and opened it for him.

he chucked nervously, ‘a bet is a bet’ he entered the space and you let the door go, watching it slam into its frame, clicking the hatch you locked him inside.

you walked away, ready to leave him there in the walk-in fridge. alone. for two hours. you shook your head, this was fucking crazy, stupid, and dangerous. you stumbled back through the kitchen, stopping at the giant metal door that stood between you and haechan. unlatching it and heaving the door open with a pull, he was sitting on a box of tomatoes looking at his phone. you stepped inside, he looked up and smiled, slipping his phone in his pocket and walked towards you, making you back up until your back hit the door. you could feel the heat radiating off of him, making the air thick with tension, the coolness of the door to your back made a shiver flow down your spine. you thought back to earlier this week, when he had you trapped in the back of the store, caging you in between him and the wall, much like now. you failed to find the will to push him away, you couldn’t even do it before, so what could stop you now? now, it was just you and him.

‘i knew you wouldn’t leave me here’ he whispered, his head moving closer to yours. you made the unconscious decision to let your eyes roam over his face, his beautiful moles put perfectly into place, his plush lips that you couldn’t stop staring at. you looked up into his eyes, noticing how his eyes flickered down to your lips, too. despite it only being 2 celsius, it felt like you were burning over a fire. his lips smacked onto yours, fighting for dominance and creating a rhythm you both could move to. the softness of his lips made you moan into his mouth, wetness pooling into your panties, making the tight fabric stick to your skin. he pulled you closer, rubbing his tented crotch into your thigh, he licked your lips, sucking on the bottom and grabbing it between his teeth. he let go and attacked your neck, sucking, kissing, and licking. the cool air of the fridge hits the wet patches, making you shudder and arch your back in surprise.

he grabbed you and brought you over to a box of ingredients in the middle of the fridge, ‘jump’ he demands. you hop onto the box, back against the racks lining the walls of the fridge, he leaves a line of kisses along your neck, hands moving to unbuckle your belt and jeans. he tugs them down your thighs along with your underwear. the chilling air immediately hits your core making you shiver and sending a tickle up your spine. haechan groaned, watching the way your cunt throbbed and wept for contact with anything. ‘please, let me taste you’ he cried out.

you fiercely nodded, the frigid air being replaced by his hot breath as he kissed up your thigh, reaching your clit, and licking a fat strip up. you cried as he latched on and continued to suck and shove his tongue down your hole. you grab his hair, shoving him further down, he groaned every time you would tug on his scalp. he continued his attack until you feel the pit in your stomach light up, feeling the band snap you cry out as you come all over his mouth, he licked up every drop. rising from his crouched position slowly, he paid no mind to the sheen of wetness that covered his chin.

‘get up and turn around’ he ordered. you scrambled out of your spot on the boxes, turning, you place your arms on top of them to keep yourself steady. you could hear him undo his belt buckle and unzip his pants, he presses himself to you. his stiff cock brushing up your lower back, ‘you want a tip?’ you brace yourself, gripping the edge of the box. he lines himself with your entrance, gently pushing the head of his cock inside, you gasp at the slow, painful stretch. ‘you want it?’ he growled, stopping mid-thrust, making you cry out in desperation for him to continue.

‘p-please, i want it haechan’ you stuttered. he smiled wickedly, satisfied by your answer.

without another word, he slammed his cock into you making you cry out in surprise and pleasure mixed with pain. your back arched forward as he stilled inside of you, giving you some time to adjust. you clenched around him, pushing back now to get any type of friction. he grabs your hips to keep you from moving, bringing his hips back and harshly snapping them forward into you, making you lunge at the boxes supporting you. crying as he beat up your pussy made you see stars, your vision turning white as you tried to continue to focus on the shelf in front of you. the milk was going to expire in two days, ‘fuck’ you whimpered out.

haechan frantically moved his hips back and forth, pounding into your bruised hole at an alarming pace. he had been whispering in your ear, you paid no attention, you couldn’t with the way he was stuffing you full, your brain couldn’t think of anything else but the way his cock slammed in and out of you. the way his hands held you in place, knowing bruises would start forming soon with how tightly he was holding you. ‘i’m gonna come’ you rasped between heavy breaths, the fire in your lower stomach returning. ‘fuck. haechan’ crying out in desperation, you continued gripping onto the boxes holding you up until your knuckles went white. he reached a hand around and played with your clit as he sunk further into you. your legs flexed as you couldn’t stop yourself any further, your orgasm almost making you fall to the ground. the band in the pit of your stomach breaking as you cried out, leaning your head on the coolness of the boxes in front of you. coming down from your high, haechan continued to ferociously pound into you, trying to reach his own high, making you cry out in overstimulation. clenching around his length, he stilled deep inside, coating your cervix with his come. haechan slowed down, trying to catch his breath. he clung onto you, reaching his arms around your waist, holding you against him.

‘i’m sorry for what i said earlier… it’s not true, i-i really like you, i was just upset. you shouldn't have to dress up in order to get more money from those dirtbags’ he cooed, leaving a trail of tender kisses across your shoulder. you winced as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you craving that feeling more. haechan helped you pull up your pants before he could fix his, turning you around and capturing in his arms once more.

‘its okay haechan, besides, i still won, and we both ended up in the walk-in’ you giggled, watching his worried eyes go bright again, smiling as you lightly joked about the situation.

‘i want to make it up to you’ he smirked, ‘i can use my tip in a different way’

you gave him a funny look, playfully pushing on his chest in order for him to continue, ‘as in, let me use my tips from this week to take you on a date’

you laughed, nodding your head, you walked out of the fridge with him, hand in hand. you stopped before reaching for the exit, ‘what is it?’ haechan asked.

‘i need to leave a note for taeyong that the milk is expiring in two days’ you turned back, walking towards his office.

haechan watched as you scribbled on the manager's note pad, ‘what if we fucked here too?’

[acosmicbee]

Would you be willing to make a platonic yandere head chef at like a very baller restaurant. And reader is just like the hostess or a waitress. And some big mean guy starts yelling and throwing a fit about something. The food being could or the wait time?????

Yes Chef

500 Follower Celebration - Day 6

"Y/N-?"

"Ah!" You jumped, whirling around with your hand clutched to your chest. "You scared me! Make some noise when you walk, please and thank you!"

Your boss just sighed, already exasperated, as he crossed his arms. He was the head chef and owner of the restaurant you worked part time at. Chef Adonis, or as you called him Donny/Don Don, was some former semi-famous chef who had decided to open a restaurant. He raised an eyebrow as you dramatically straightened your apron, making a show of recovering from being startled.

"Look, your stepdad called. Said something about being late to pick you up from your shift, so do you want to cover for Lindsay so you're at least getting paid instead of sitting in the staff lounge? She was supposed to work a double but no-call no-showed for her first shift and I doubt she'd be here for the second one."

Your nose scrunched in annoyance as you considered it. You didn't like Lindsay at all, she was super bossy and the kind of person who peaked in high school, but you kept your opinions to yourself. The servers, and even some of the cooks, were a gossipy bunch and anything told to one person would soon be known by the whole restaurant.

You were one of the younger servers, being a high schooler yourself. You worked part time, thanks to a favor your stepdad had cashed in so you'd stop annoying him and your mother for money.

"Eh... Sure, why not? As long as I get paid. Is Jade helping out tonight?"

Jake was the boss' daughter who sometimes did random stuff around the restaurant for some money. You went to the same school but never really talked outside of work due to her being a senior while you were a sophomore. You also weren't in the same social circles with her being a cheerleader who usually hung out with the sporty kids and you only really talking to your close friends and having the athletic proficiency of a cooked noodle.

Inside the restaurant though? The two of you were past the point of work besties. If there was anyone you'd consider gossiping with, it would be her. However, you refuse to add to the gossip already flying around. Last you heard, apparently one of the cooks was dating some older lady who was basically his sugar mommy.

"Yeah, she'll be here tonight. I expect you two to actually get work done this time." Okay, so maybe the two of you had spent the last shift you'd shared having a deep discussion about whether or not a root beer float was a soup. (It was, by the way, and you would die on that hill).

"Sure thing, Chef! We'll be good employees." You cheekily promised, grinning at his exasperated eye roll.

If Jade was your work-sister, Adonis was your work-dad. It helped he was one of the sole positive male influences, your stepfather didn't want to be your dad, and you didn't want him either. With the chef, you found it easier to relax a little.

"Y/N!" The door to the staff lounge swung open as Jade ran in. Her eyes were wide and she'd obviously been running. A cup of iced coffee was held in a death grip as she stared at you catching her breath. "Baklava. Is it a sandwich?"

"Lasagna." You answered. "It has layers with stuff in between."

"Oh my god. Y/N, get to work. Jade, you're serving today." Adonis said, sounding like he truly regretted his life choices.

"I serve everyday." Jade answered, taking a long sip of his coffee and dramatically flipping her hair.

The long-suffering sigh Adonis let out would have been concerning but you had heard it enough times for it to be normalized. You blew a platonic kiss to Jade as you grabbed your notepad and made your way to the hostess stand.

You'd likely be serving food during the shift you'd picked up from Lindsay, but for now you got to rest easy. It was still early, and everything was empty so you barely had to get up. It was quiet enough that Jade eventually came to stand over your shoulder as you both worked on a crossword while talking about school.

"He does realize he isn't our only teacher, right? He assigned an essay due the day of the AP Bio test. 5-Down is 'emu'." Jade complained.

You penciled it his answer, glad you weren't a senior who had to deal with that teacher yet. "That mega sucks. What's the essay on?"

"Something about the key themes in Frankenstein and what it says about society." He answered before pointing at one of the clues. "That one is luna."

"Oh that reminds me. What are you doing for halloween this year?" You asked, scribbling in the answer as well as another one nearby you'd figured out.

"No idea. Probably gonna check with the team and see what they want to do. Maybe we'll do something matching." She said before looking at you confused. "Why did that remind you of Halloween?"

"Oh, I was thinking about maybe doing something Sailor Moon related at first. I changed my mind though, so now I'm trying to find a new costume idea."

"Y/N, Jade! You two have jobs to do, you know!" Adonis scolded, appearing behind you two. You, once again, startled, yelping and throwing the pencil.

"Stop it!" You huffed, glaring at Jade when she burst out laughing. "It's not funny!"

"You sounded like one of those small dogs." She giggled, wiping away an actual tear as you huffed.

"Does this count as workplace harassment?" You asked Adonis only for Jade to hang off your shoulders, making you stumble.

Adonis sighed as one of the regulars entered the restaurant, not even giving a second glance at you trying to fight Jade.

"Afternoon. Table for one." He said, Adonis grabbing him a menu as you were still attempting to squirm away from Jade. "You kids ever decide whether or not a root beer float was a soup?"

"It is!" "Is not!" Were shouted simultaneously, which only started up the argument again. At some point in the middle of it all the phone rang and you picked it up, shushing Jade as you did.

"Hello, you've reached Elysium Dining, how can I help you?" You asked sweetly, flipping off Jade who silently made a dramatic show of crying in hurt.

"I need a table for six tonight." A man demanded, already sounding pissed off with you.

"Alright, let me put you on hold while I see if we have any availabilities." You said, hitting the button to make the hold music start playing.

When you found the options you connected the line again, ignoring how he was already angrily muttering about something. "Alright sir, we have openings at 5, 6:45 and-!"

"I'll take the 6:45." He cut you off. You wanted to hang up on him but didn't, forcing your best customer service smile even if he couldn't see it.

"Alright can I please have a name for the reservation?"

"James." He hung up on you before you could even say anything about the late policy. You just huffed, adding the reservation into the system.

"He sounded pleasant." Jane said sarcastically. You chuckled as you grabbed a menu for a couple of guests who had just walked in.

"Pleasant, Jane? Don't make me laugh. Hope he's not in the section I'm supposed to cover."

⟡🍽️₊˚⊹♡

You should've known this shift would turn into a disaster. The second your second shift had started Lindsay had shown up, clearly hungover, and openly argued with Adonis about working the shift you were now covering. She had quickly been sent home, thankfully right before the dinner rush started and the restaurant was full.

Now both you and Jane were running around, taking orders and carrying dishes. You were in the middle of running some drinks over when you were pulled aside by the guy working the hostess stand.

"You were the one who put in this table for six at 6:45, right? Well, they're here and making a fuss because they're over 15 minutes late for their table so their reservation was canceled."

You groaned, before handing your tray of drinks to him. "You run these drinks to table 5, I'll go deal with it. The beer is for the lady and the margarita is for the man."

Jane briefly spared you a glance as you made your way to the hostess stand where a man was there, fuming. Behind him were a couple of others, looking equally annoyed.

"Hello sir, I was told you had a problem with your reservation?" You said, the epitome of perfect customer service person.

"You were the one I talked with on the phone earlier, so you should know that I have a reservation!" He said, glaring at you like he was daring you to say no.

"Sir it is currently... 7:09. Our policy states that there is a 15 minute window where tables are reserved past their reservation time. You are almost 25 minutes late so unfortunately, your table has likely already been given to another party seeing as we're currently full." You said, already preparing yourself for whatever he was going to try and say.

"Are you serious?!" He explodes. You back away a little when he starts angrily gesturing as he gets even angrier. "You're going to find me a table right now because I reserved a table! So what if I'm a little late?! I have a life, unlike you!"

By this point the restaurant has gone silent, everyone is looking at the two of you. You're trying your best to keep your cool as he continues yelling at you, as if him being late was your fault. "Get me your manager! I want to speak to someone who actually knows what's going on here!"

You made the mistake of partially turning to ask Jane to get Adonis to handle this. In a split second you were on the floor, your cheek burning as black spots danced across your vision. Jane was at your side in an instant, helping you up as Adonis stepped between you and the man.

You were led back to the staff room where Jane pressed an icepack to your face. Outside you could hear yelling and eventually sirens. You felt in a state of shock as Adonis led a police officer to the staff room, speaking to you softly as he wrapped a blanket around your shoulders.

You gave your statement, Jane also giving a statement as a witness. It was a long and tiring process and when it was over you just curled up on the staff room couch, letting yourself drift off.

You woke up being helped to the back of a car, not even questioning when your head was gently supported by someone's shoulder. You let your mind drift as you watched the city fly by outside the window, not even noticing that the buildings were turning into larger and larger houses.

Jane carried your bag as Adonis picked you up, letting you curl into him as he carried you into a nice foyer. You were eventually led to a room you assumed was Janes. She eagerly picked out some pajamas for you to change into, even letting you shower in her bathroom.

After that she led you to her bed, letting you curl up beside her as she turned out the lamp. You were asleep by the time Adonis checked on you, looking fondly at the two of you cuddling.

"You make such a good big sister Jane. Take care of them tonight, yes?"

"Of course dad. As if I'd let anything else happen to them after tonight. I should've been quicker." She said regretfully, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"We both should have been. But the past is the past. Tomorrow, we can get them settled here. Now, go to sleep honey, I have some calls to make."

Jane nodded, settling into the pillows as she felt your gentle breathing against her cheek. "Don't worry, Y/N. Your big sister has you and she's never letting you go. Not again."

[haologram]

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.

[novacorpsrecruit]

It’s lonely at the top

Part 1 | part 2 | here / final part

Read on Ao3

wc 1,698 | Steddie | angst with a happy ending!

“You need to give him some space,” Robin said over the phone. Eddie frowned. It’s been three days. He missed Steve. He nearly leaped over the couch to answer the phone, assuming it was him. Robin was the next best, he guessed. “You really hurt him.”

“I know,” Eddie said. “And I’m sorry. I really am. Will you tell him I’m done with the parties? Done with Trick? He means more to me than being liked.”

“Yeah,” Robin huffed. “You sure showed him that.”

“I mean it,” Eddie said honestly. “I do. I’m done with it all.”

“I think you need to tell him that yourself,” Robin said.

“How can I?” Eddie asked. “You won’t let me talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to you,” Robin corrected. “You need to let him be ready to accept you.”

Eddie sighed, pressing his forehead against the cabinet where the phone hung. He wished there was a way to tell Steve how sorry he was. As much as Eddie wanted to take the Green line to Robin’s dorm and talk to Steve, he can’t cross that boundary. But he needed a way to pour out his emotions, to let Steve know that he’s loved. That Eddie’s sorry. “Can I — Can I send him a letter? That way when he’s ready, he knows I’m there for him?”

There was silence on the other line as Robin thought it over. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Just address it to me. He’s not …”

“Supposed to be there,” Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I figured. Thank you, for being there for him.”

“Yeah. Look,” Robin huffed. “If he does let you back in again, and you fuck up again. It’s your balls, Munson.”

“Understood,” Eddie said. “I promise. Never again.”

Robin hung up with a click. Eddie sighed, running his hands over his face. He fucked up. Bad.

He guessed there was no time to start writing like the present.

💌💌💌💌

“Steve, someone at table 13 requested you personally,” Jenny, the hostess said. “He’s — uh — a little scary. So if you have issues, get Rod.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” Steve said, pulling his order book from his apron. He wasn’t sure who would request him at 3 pm. Most of his early birds on Saturdays stop by the diner for brunch and he barely saw a soul until 5.

When they first moved out to Chicago, Steve had no clue what he was going to do for work. He was attending Harold Washington College to get his associates in early education, and then potentially apply to UIC. Then one day, he got off a stop too early and saw the help wanted sign. It was easy for him to pick up, he made decent tips, and it worked with his schedule well. Plus, he was able to take home food at the end of his shift.

Robin’s been enjoying the pancakes lately.

Plus, Steve loved when it was slow and Eddie would —

He closed his eyes, letting the thought disappear. He missed Eddie. His heart ached any time he thought about him. But he was afraid that Eddie didn’t miss him in the same way.

He took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile as he greeted his table.

“Hi, welcome in. I’m Steve. I’ll be taking care —“ Steve stopped as he looked at the patron. He felt his lips turn into a frown. “Trick?”

“Patrick’s fine,” Trick winked. “I mean, we’re in your court, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve nodded. He pressed his lips together, feeling like he couldn’t stop staring at the black and blue circles under his eyes. “What happened to your — uh —“ he gestured to his own face. He winced. Trick didn’t like him in the first place. He wouldn’t give Steve the time of day. Why would he bother to tell him about an injury like that. “Sorry — shouldn’t have asked that. What can I get started for you?”

“Your boyfriend, actually,” Trick smirked. It was like ice water was dumped over Steve as the words washed over him. Trick’s smirk dropped. He leaned over the table. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hey — hey, sorry. I didn’t mean — It’s cool. It’s — Eddie and you — are cool, I mean.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he felt any better or worse. All he could say was, “Oh.”

“Yeah, uh —“ Trick ran his fingers over his buzzed hair and exhaled. “Half of our friends are gay or lesbian or queer. It’s — that’s fine. Promise.”

“Oh,” Steve repeated. He sat on the other side of the booth, across from Trick. “Okay.”

“I just —“ Trick looked up to the ceiling before turning his attention back to Steve. “We shouldn’t have judged you. We saw you and immediate thought you were gonna be some straight jackass like we’ve dealt with our whole lives. We built this community of accepting outcasts, and outcasted you while doing so.”

Oh.

Steve wasn’t sure what to think.

When Eddie and him started to date, the Corroded Coffin boys treated him similarly. But Eddie called them out on that before it got bad.

Before it got like this.

“I guess what I wanted to say was sorry,” Trick said. “For pushing you out. And name calling.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “I don’t recall any name calling?”

“Yeah, you weren’t around for that,” Trick winced, gesturing to his nose. “Eddie made sure I knew that was wrong.”

“Eddie,” Steve breathed. “My Eddie?”

“Yep,” Trick said. “I hope he gave you a big apology for everything. So, tell me. What do you got that’s good to eat here?”

Steve took Trick’s order — one strawberry milkshake and an order of fruit loaded French toast — sent it to the kitchen, then went into the bathroom. He shut the door behind him and pulled out Eddie’s letter from his apron pocket. The first letter arrived last Monday. And he received a letter every day that he’s stayed with Robin.

With a shaky breath, Steve opened the letter.

💌💌💌💌

Dear Steve, there’s nothing in the world that I can do to make this up to you. But I will try every day to make sure that you don’t ever forgotten again. You are the stars that light my way home, the sun that brings warmth into my light, and the moon that shines love over me. To experience your love is something truly unreal. And to think I put you on the back burner for a taste of popularity? It was like the Ring of Power overtook my mind. I got lost in the feeling of being admired by many, I forgot what it’s like to be loved by one. I’d travel to Mordor and back for you. Through the Gap of Rohan and through the Mines of Mora.

In a world where everyone could know my name, I’d only want to know yours.

My apologies will never be enough. Love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I hope you are well. I hope your classes are going good and that you’re excelling. I know you are. You’re so fucking smart, you blow me away with every new piece of knowledge you brought home. I hope that basketball at the YMCA is going good. I’m sorry I missed your last couple of games. There is no excuse. I hope one day you’d allow me to be by your side again, cheering you on.

You deserve the world, baby. Nothing will stop me from showing you that. Everything from the water in the rivers to the trees in the forest. From the canyons in Arizona to the mountains in Colorado. It’s yours. It’s all yours. You deserve everything. You deserve the best. And I promise that I will prove that.

Forever in love, Eddie

💌💌💌💌

I’d move heaven and hell

Just to see you smile again

Or remember how it felt

To have you in my arms

When I begged God for mercy

In the depth of hells

It was nothing compared

To begging for the mercy of you

To hear you laugh, to see you smile

To counting the stars across your skin

To pick up where we left off

To start all over again

I’d move heaven and hell for you

💌💌💌💌

Steve folded the letters, slipping them back into the envelope and set them on his nightstand.

He laid back down, turning to his side. Eddie’s side of the bed was empty. Like it has been for four days.

After Steve read the first letter, he found his way back to their apartment. Eddie was hope and nearly wrapped his arms around Steve, stopping as if there was an invisible barrier in between them. Eddie stopped, respecting that boundary at the threshold.

It was Steve to crack.

Steve who took that step over the threshold and fell into Eddie’s arms, burying his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” was all Eddie could say.

They agreed they needed to slowly integrate back into each others’ lives. Communicate when they’re feeling alone and listen when one’s feeling distressed. Nightmares seemed easier to deal with, but they were going to work it through.

Eddie said he would sleep on the couch until Steve was ready for him. “No matter how long it takes, sweetheart,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss against Steve’s knuckles. “When you’re ready for me, I’m here.”

And Eddie truly meant that. They could go back to just friends and Eddie would accept it. He would be heartbroken, but to have Steve in his life again?

That’s worth everything to Eddie.

Eddie was jostled awake, feeling the couch cushion shift underneath him. The blanket on his body lifted up and a familiar weight settle on his chest. He felt at home again. Eddie tugged the blanket back over the both of them, one hand around Steve’s waist and the other tangled in his hair as Steve laid his head on Eddie’s chest. Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, taking a silent vow to never lose him again.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[wakandamama]

Strike a Pose, Royal Blue

A/N: FREAKS 🫵🏽🫵🏽🫵🏽. Here is the winner of the Post WTS poll, the freak nasty Smut sequel to Stay Awake, Strike a Pose. I had to take out the songs I linked at first lol. Just look em up y'all..

Smut warnings: Semi-public, fingering, stripping, rough sex, hair pulling, Sugar Daddy Smoke! Sugar Baby Annie! Breeding kink

---

Since Smoke's been so tired out from work at home, Annie decides to bring her fashion show to him.

The 369 is Smoke’s newest endeavor, a bar and cigar rooftop lounge on top of the new event/venue building the twins and Bo had put in together. Aimed at those who want a slower paced kind of party, only slow jams and live instruments were allowed to play. Smoke insisted on it when they bought the building, he loved his brother’s energy and appreciated the release of a proper party scene but truly he wanted to offer something more laid back. Something that was easier for him to stay in when his nerves would fray and didn’t get blood boiling. 

Annie likes it. Now when Smoke comes home from managing at 369 he is less stung than when he was called into the Juke Joints. He also smoked less at home now. Annie likes the slower pace of the lounge, it means less issues arose. It means that even with him on the clock Smoke had more time on his hands. It means that when Annie walks in his establishment, she is promptly addressed by him.

Like tonight, a warm but breezy evening, the moon is high in midnight and a soul singer with a sultry cover band is playing live. Annie opens the door and sways into the lounge as the singer’s velvet alto pours out the devilish lyrics to Satisfaction by SiR from her wine colored lips.

Annie’s hair is in french curl braids that frame her face in playful layers as it cascades down to her waist. Her make up is light, dewy skin with big lashes and eyeliner, a glossy chocolate lip to tie it together.  Annie smells just as delicious, Shea butter vanilla tuberose with a hint of musk that always sends Smoke into a tizzy. The only jewelry she wears is Smoke’s gold chain, diamond studs, and her wedding ring. 

What was most important, Annie currently wore nothing but a Knee-length trench coat dress and navy leather, red bottom heels.  

The full-figured woman takes the long way around the venue towards the bar. Pausing to greet the hostess and regulars, swaying and switching her hips enough to draw curiosity as to just why she was concealing those sinful curves of hers. She gives an innocent look towards the one-way glass wall that walled the part of the venue where Smoke’s office and watch point laid. 

Annie makes sure to blow a kiss towards there before finishing her round and ending up at the bar. 

“Hey Toni, let me get that bottle of Ceretto off you.” Annie says, the curly headed bartenders raises both her eyebrows in surprise. 

“Do you mean a glass Mrs. Moore?” Toni squeaks but gasp when Annie sends her a cheeky grin and pulls a roll of 100 dollar bills from her pocket. 

“No baby, I mean the whole bottle. A fresh one.”

“Mrs. Moore, that’s a 300 dollar bottle.”

“And here’s 400. Keep the change.” Annie offers, leaning in over the bar top to place the money in Toni’s apron pocket and accepting the elegant black bottle from her. 

“Quiet night?” Annie asks once she sits back on her stool, opening the bottle and taking a deep drink.

“Uhh, yes. Everyone's behaved.” Before Toni can say anything more, Annie’s phone goes off with a soft bell sound. 

Smoke’s text notification, she’s been spotted. 

Good.

“Have a fantastic night!” Annie says before getting off her stool and sauntering towards Smoke’s office. Her heels tapping steady and dangerously as she climbs the short stairway, turns the corner and finds herself in the open doorway. Annie leans on the frame, crossing her legs, she takes in the sight of herself in the mirrored wall first, before dragging her eyes over to her man. 

Smoke is temptingly handsome as usual. In a nice-fitting gray dress shirt, a blue with a tasteful pinstripe tie and black slacks. Smoke sits in the leather lounge chair that usually faces the window wall that stares down at the lounge below. Instead it was turned to watch the doorway. 

Turned so that Smoke sees just Annie through the haze of his cigar smoke. Annie smiles at him, then tilts her head back as she takes another deep drink off the expensive bottle. Smoke can’t help but drag on the cigar as he watches Annie’s throat bob and neck stretch, ever her tiddies tease with a slight bounce that is half-hidden by her dress.

“Mrs. Moore.”

“Mr. Moore.” Annie purrs as she finally struts in, hand brushing behind her to close the door. Annie locks Smoke in a stare akin to that of a pantheress spotting prey, that smoke matches with a gaze that promises to devour. Annie’s free hand loosens the knot at front of her dress, enough slack so she now gives her man a peek-a-boo of cleavage. The only thing that allows the fabric to cling to her body is a dangerously loose tie and two buttons.

“What's the meaning of this visit tonight?” Smoke asks as he settles back, legs spread wide and his free hand tapping his knee. Annie stands between his legs, she eyes his cigar and Smoke smoothly gives it up to her soft hand. He licks his lips to see her wrap those luscious lips around the thick end, cheeks hollowing to pull a drag on it that roasts the lit end. Annie moans a little in her chest at the hint of black coffee off the wrap of tobacco before pulling the cigar back and slowly blowing the smoke out her mouth and over him. 

“Just a woman who wants some Smoke.” Annie says and Smoke lets out a deep sound that half chuckle half growl, all full of amused arousal. 

“I can offer that.” He tells her. Annie smiles before snuffing the cigar in the ashtray next to them. Her blue french-tipped fingers tip Smoke’s chin up then rubs his bottom lip, “I think you needa drink,” she whispers. Smoke obeys, opening his mouth and letting her pour a hefty swallow in his mouth. He gulps when she pulls back, his tongue pokes out to taste the smear of Annie’s lipgloss that transferred from the bottle to his lips. 

“You know ‘Lijah. I think I’m a little jealous.” Annie tells him . Instantly Smoke’s hands land on her wide hips and pull her impossibly closer before giving the top of her left breast a kiss. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Annie says, poking her lip out with a pout.

‘Imma fix that. Whatcha want, it’s already got.” He promises before start to suck a hickey on top her right breast. Annie gives a breathy moan at the action. Her head leans down and she licks the side of his ear then whispers into it.

“I bought such a pretty outfit the other day, but Poppa fell asleep before he could see my fashion show.” She whispers huskily. Smoke hums in intrigue.

“That’s a damn shame. C’mon then, show poppa what you spent his money on momma. Let me see that pretty.” Smoke asks of her, smacking her ass in encouragement and slyly taking her bottle of wine. The smack makes Annie groan. She takes a few strides back from the man, then gasps to find that Smoke has fully loosened the belt from around her as it drops to the floor. The only thing giving her decency were two buttons. 

“Play my music, Dj?” Annie asks. Smoke does as such, grabbing the remote to the office's entertainment system and pressing play on the last song Annie had queued on her phone earlier that afternoon behind his back. Leak It by Ari Lennox and Chloe starts to play, Smoke takes his own deep drink off the bottle as his eyes lock in on his woman. 

As the music comes alive, Annie sways her body to the bump of the guitar beats. Her rolling curves and swinging ass are akin to an anaconda descending down a tree to prey. Annie plays her hands into her hair, stretching her body so Smoke can witness every stretch mark and swell of thickness move for him as she tightly wraps her braids around until they're in a high ponytail with curls dripping around her face. 

Annie’s hands fall back to her waist, over those pesky buttons as her legs spread. She pops the top button open first and Smoke grunts as her tiddies spill free from behind the dark fabric. 

With another roll of her body to a pitchy note in the song, she pops the last button and tosses all the fabric to the floor. 

Just like that, Annie is displayed. 

Up top Annie wears a royal blue corset that’s all dainty lace between sheer boning on dark skin. The pull of the corset has her curves taunt in presentation. Her heavy breasts and plump cleavage enhanced by a deep v cut down the front of the corset, rose shaped applique barely concealing her dark nipples. The garter straps dive down her front, framing her lap then end mid-thigh, little gold and crystals on the end twinkle in the low light of Smoke’s office.

What excites Smoke the most is the thin royal blue stingy straps the bite into her plush sides, all leading down to a lacy rose over top of her fat pussy in the sheer panties. Annie slowly turns around, her flirty eyes still peering at Smoke over her shoulder.

“Oh, my coat.” she purrs.

Smoke groans, as all he sees is wispy blue bows down her back and Annie’s juicy, round ass. The g string a bold stripe between her cheeks when she slowly bends down to pick up that damn coat. Smoke even sees a peek of that pussy from the back already wet and teary.

Annie trails her hand down the smooth skin of her thick leg until she grabs it and playfully presses it to her front and stands back up straight. Annie teases Smoke by hooking a finger under the first string of her panties and starts to pull it down to expose herself.

She stops with a wink, “Imma let you do that.” Annie tells him as she slowly turns back around to face him. Annie struts up to Smoke and places the coat over his knee before sitting down sideways on his strong leg.

Smoke hums his approval at her choice of clothing while his hand runs down her back. Thick and hard-worked fingers brushing through the silky and tight-tied ribbons of the corset then resting on her lower back. Annie arches it, crossing her legs as she does so, the back meat of her thigh brushing over Smoke’s crotch. Annie nods down at the half drained bottle of wine and Smoke brings it to her lips this time. Smoke watches closely as the pink tip of Annie’s tongue follows around the glass rim before taking a noisy gulp of wine akin to how she chokes on his shaft. 

Smoke jerks the bottle away, jealous that it now knows how heavenly Annie’s lips are and carelessly Smoke lets it clatter then tip over upon his desk. Wine dribbles down Annie’s chest as she gasps at his sudden action. 

Annie giggles and Smoke grunts when the man swiftly adjusts them both Annie rests fully in his lap now, straddling his hips. All the while Smoke takes in a deep pull of her sexy scent. 

“How much it cost, momma?” He practically growls in her ear before kissing into her neck. Annie hums out a moan at the pressure of his eager lips and wet tongue on suck on the soft column on her throat.

“Six Hundred on the Louboutin's. Eight hundred on the coat, it’s Santinni.” Annie purrs as she wraps her arms around Smoke’s neck, pressing his head down from her throat to her chest. Smoke starts licking clean her cleavage of the careless spills of wine down her skin before it can stain the fabric of her lingerie. 

“Uhmm.” Smoke rumbles. 

“Three seventy on the corset, custom.”

“Yeah? I can feel it.” Smoke compliments into her skin as he starts to pull at the ties, one at a time the ribbons unloop and fall to the floor. Annie shivers at the release of tension mixes with her bassy voice echoing over her sternum. 

“Yeah, saved ya money on the panties.” Annie pants once the corset was fully untied she yanks it out the way. Tiddies spilling forward and pressing into the front of Smoke’s chest. “One ninety, Kiki de Montparnasse. Caughta sale.”

“You shoulda bought two pairs.” Smoke reprimands, giving her a few gentle slaps that send waves across the thickness of her ass. Annie’s breath hitches as Smoke grips the left side of the G string af with one strong yank that her rips clean through the lace. Cool air hits the back of her sensitive pussy. 

Smoke brings his hand down between them and Annie gasps as he yanks the rest of the sheer fabric out of his way so he can curl two fingers through her wetness there.  Once-twice-thrice until his whole hand is made slick before his thumb circles her clit. 

“You know I did poppa. I’m good like that.” Annie moans. Smoke nods the affirmative before Annie latches their lips together, pouring her moans of pleasure down his throat as Smoke fingers her properly. Annie grinds on his fingers, the pressure of her movements making his dick harden in his pants. 

“Ya fuckin’ floodin me, Ann! Dammit!” Smoke grunts out as the squeeze of her thick thighs and the barrier of wetting fabric strain against his dick. 

“You made me.” Annie pants.

“So damn pretty.” Smoke swears as he coaxes more and more of Annie’s taste upon his hand, grunting when Annie’s shivering thighs press together and lock his digits in her pussy. Annie powers through to keep grinding down on her lap through the press of her legs, Smoke groans at the pressure building on his shaft from her actions. The need to get in her aching him into madness.

“No getting shy now Pretty Woman. You betta show ‘er to me.” Smoke commands through gritted teeth.

“Make me.” Annie hiss back as she fights to hold herself out just a moment longer, aching for the edge. 

Smoke reaches back with his free hand and sweeps everything off it; papers, a cigar box, a full ashtray, and the empty bottle of wine. Annie chuckles at the clatter of things and it pitches to excited giggles as Smoke swiftly picks her up with in stand then plops her face down on the desk, her face landing in the puddle of wine. The chair is kicked over next to give Smoke plenty of  room work. 

Annie lets out a long moaning whine as Smoke’s fingers curl into a new place inside her while his palm slaps down on her puffy pussy, finally Annie’s legs unclench and spread for him.. 

“Fuckin’ freak.” Smoke groans when Annie looks back up at him with lusty eyes and licks her pink tongue through the peachy puddle of wine on the desk.

“Do something about it.” Annie taunts.  

And that Smoke does.

 Annie grips the chain around her neck as the jingle of Smoke belt unbuckling echoes in the space, she giggles again when Smoke hand grabs the end of her ponytail and slowly wraps her bundle of braids around his wide hand.

“How much this cost me?” Smoke asks as he starts with a gentle tug on that ponytail that starts to tilt Annie's head back.

“Four hundred dollars, gotta full service.”

“It’s good work,” Smoke says as he wraps another twist, and Annie’s head is completely cocked back. “What you tip her?”

“Two hundred.”

“Hummm… let me test this shit.”

“Elijah” Annie yells as Smoke yanks her up, back up and arched, her head on his shoulders. Smoke lets go of the braids in favor of snaking his hand around the front of her throat just as he thrusts into her leaking pussy from behind. Annie’s velvet walls tighten around his hard dick instinctively to the cold metal of Smoke’s chain now pressed to her bobbing throat. 

Skin slaps, the desk creaks, the music turns up in pitch as Anointed By Miguel starts to play.

Both of them grunting and panting in unison when a moan puffs off Annie’s lips, "Wreck my shit baby.”

One of Annie’s hands wraps around his wrist to move Smoke’s hand down to her sternum. The other hand slaps down harshly on Smoke’s outer thigh. Smoke’s dick jumps inside her making both groans before it finds the bottom of his shirt by his hip and tugs him in deeper. Smoke’s hands grips into the meat of Annie’s hip so hard it promises to bruise as he drills deeper in passion. 

“Feel that dick in ya belly Pretty Woman? It’s gotta put another baby in ya,” Smoke growls out as he bucks in and Annie whines out.

Smoke can’t help but suck, then bite into the shea butter soft flesh of her shoulder. Annie cries out then bites into him as well when Smoke tries to silence her pleasure with a hand over her pretty mouth.

 Smoke thrusts in quicker, Annie’s grinds back match perfectly. Thrust for Thrust. Milking one another in chasing sexual highs.

“ ‘Lijah!” Annie cries out as Smoke thrust becomes wild forcing her ass to clap back on him. Both of Annie’s arms go slack and force Smoke to hold her down onto his dick as she cums. Hard. Fucking boneless and tight on his pulsing shaft.

“Ann, shit!” Smoke hisses out before grunting and they both go slack against the desk and into one another.

Smoke cums into Annie, that pretty flutter of her pussy making him lose himself as well. Heavy rope after heavy rope of cum loading Annie’s creaming pussy.

He shot the fucking club up. 

Annie’s pants as she shakes. Smoke takes a deep breath, kissing the bite mark he lefts on her skin before sitting up and pulling out. Annie moans and nearly cums again at the loss of contact, she claws up the desk until she’s on it enough to properly turn and sit on it. 

Annie takes in the sights of her man, pants and drawls around his ankles and wet with the mix of both of their fluids, his shirt rumpled and damp with sweat and his eyes blow out in lust. Annie places a hand on his chest, right on the button line.

“This the Thom Browne?” Annie whispers hoarsely. Smoke swallows but wordless nods, Annie smirks as she grabs into the seam and rips his shirt open, two buttons popping off at her pressure. Annie runs a hand down his front, feeling every ridge of his torso and licking her lips. 

“Annie, please.” Smoke pleads, “I gotta get you home before this club closes.” the man asks for, but his feet obey as Annie drags him back between her legs with a pull on the shirt. 

“So, you the only one allowed to, rip off clothes, and toss three hundred dollar wine bottles on the ground, huh? There’s over sixteen hundred on the floor Elijiah. Wasteful” Annie rasps while she licks up his collar bone, then sucks on his neck. Smoke hums low in his throat at that, he goes to hold her but Annie forces his hands to her thighs.

“You gonna have to pay up.” Annie commands, Smoke nods. Her hand wrap around his hardening dick, thumb circling the wet head of it and her pinky taps on the side vein. 

“You know where my wallet is.” Smoke grunts. Annie smirks devilishly and pumps on his shaft..

“I don’t want yo money today. You gonna put another baby in me Poppa. ” Annie tells him. 

Smoke matches Annie’s smirk, watching as she lines his dick back up with her pussy slit. Both man and woman gasp as Smoke slips in, Annie moans as he gets back to work. 

---

It’s two am. Both the concert in the venue and the cigar lounge have cleared out of patrons and most of the workers. The only one left is Toni cashing out her register. She perks up as suddenly the door to Smoke office slams open, then heavy steps down the stairwell and finally the people exit. 

Toni shakes her head as Smoke saunters by with Annie perched on his back and hugging around her husband’s shoulders. Annie’s edges and curls fucked out, make up half smudged off, skin stanking of sex and cigars, her eyes dumb and insdead of Annie’s sexy but prim trench dress she wears a wrinkled black maxi dress and Smoke’s blazer. 

“Have a good night Mr. and Mrs. Moore.” Toni says politely. Smoke grins so hard his gold tooth gleams, he slips another one hundred dollar bill.

“Night Toni. When you see Stack tomorrow, tell ‘em the lounge closes for the rest of the weekend.”

-- -- -- --

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[kiribakuswife]

Love Thy Neighbor

Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Kinktober day 14!!

There was something weird about your next door neighbor. You had moved in about a month ago, and every interaction you had was not exactly what you had imagined. It was a small neighborhood, and you had gotten close with nearly every other neighbor around you; everyone besides the grumpy man next door.

It started your first day after moving in. Ever the hostess, you decided to bring cookies to all of your neighbors, sort of as an introduction sort of thing. It went great until you reached the last house in your loop, smiling brightly with your last batch of cookies as you knocked on the door. Your smile didn’t falter as the door opened slowly, revealing an exhausted looking man. You had to admit to yourself he was quite handsome, hair pulled back as his blank expression looked down at you.

“Hi!” You said, “I just wanted to introduce myself! I just moved in next door, my name’s (y/n).” You beamed at him as his eyes followed your thumb pointing to your house. “I brought these for you.” You continued, holding out the tray for him. He stared down at it briefly before looking back to you with a quizzical look.

“Why?” He asked, with a brow raised. You flattered for only a second, stumbling over your words. You had thought it was pretty normal. No one else had questioned you.

“Um, as a welcome, I guess?” Your response sounded more like a question, even to your own ears, causing you to cringe internally as his heavy gaze watched you intently.

“I don’t take food from strangers.” Was all he said, closing the door gently in your face, causing you to defleat, both with embarrassment and relief that his stupidly captivating eyes were no longer on you.

The next time you saw him, you were outside planting flowers, trying to add some light into your incredibly bare front yard. He was leaving the house in a suit, looking far more put together from the last time you saw him. His hair was brushed back off his forehead, allowing you to get a good look at him this time as you squinted up at him from below your sun hat. He was clean shaven this time, a scar under his eyes, pulling you in a way you didn’t want to think about.

“Hi neighbor!” You called, waving at him. He seemed to pause for a moment, startled by your voice. He waved a hand awkwardly in your direction, as you stood, wiping your hands on your apron before making your way over to the waist high fence that separated your yard. “I never got your name.” You prompted, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Shouta.” He provided plainly, squinting at you as he went to open the door to his car. “You have dirt on your face, (y/n).” Your face flamed as he got into the car, driving off as you watched, gaping. You weren’t sure if the blush was from embarrassment from smearing dirt on your face or from the fact that he had actually remembered your name.

The fact that he had actually remembered your name spurred you on though. You didn’t have to be best friends, but you were determined to at least develop some sort of acquaintance ship with him. The type of relationship where you wouldn’t feel bad if you had to ask him for a cup of sugar or something. 

It had continued on like that for a few weeks, a few words here and there as you passed each other. His hours were weird, typically working throughout the day, concluding he might have been a teacher or something, but every so often he wouldn’t come home until late in the evening, headlights shining through your window as you curled on the couch. It wasn’t like you were stalking him, you worked from home, your office window looking out onto the street. It wasn’t like you were trying to learn more about him than the little bit you had pulled out from your brief conversations. It wasn’t like you were interested in him or anything. Nothing like that.

The summer had turned into fall, morphing into winter as snow began to fall outside the window. He was home today, sort of confirming your teacher theory as the news droned in the background, calling out the cancellation of certain schools due to the weather. With the weather as nasty as it was, you decided it was time to bake. The warmth of a fresh out of the oven pie as the snow piled outside your window was a feeling next to nothing and you smiled to yourself as you pulled ingredients out of the cabinets. 

You had everything you needed for a pumpkin pie, everything except the eggs. You grimaced as you looked outside. The snow was only piling higher, and even if you did trust your car to get to the store without sliding off the road into a ditch, you would have to unearth it from the snow to even start the drive. A pie was not worth that effort,deciding today was going to be a lazy day as soon as you woke. As you looked outside weighing your options, your eyes suddenly flicked next door. Shouta! He was sure to at least have two eggs!

You rushed to the door, pulling on a jacket, boots, a hat and a scarf before throwing the door open. The chill from  the wind ripped into you as you marched down your drive and up his. You regretted not grabbing a pair of gloves as your hands shook, red as you knocked on his door. He sure took his time coming, shivering on his porch as he swung the door open, almost looking concerned as he took you in.

“Are you alright, (y/n)? What are you doing out here?” He questioned before you could speak, brows pulled together as he scanned you over.

“Hello Shouta!” You smiled at him, “I’ve come to ask if I could pretty please borrow two eggs.” You asked, placing your hands together and squeezing your eyes shut. He said nothing as you waited, cracking an eye open.

“You braved this shit for two eggs?” He asked, opening up the door further, gesturing you inside. “Come in, I’ll grab them.”

“Thank you!” You cheered, following him inside as he grunted out a reply, moving deeper into the house as you bounced on your toes by the closed door, trying to warm up. His home was sort of what you had expected, clean and quite minimal as you looked around. It seemed cozy though, a fire burning in the fireplace and a book placed open on the table, a blanket pooled on the couch. You almost felt bad for bothering him as he approached from the kitchen, eggs in hand.

“Ah, thank you! I owe you!” You smiled up at him as he held them out to you. “I’m making a pumpkin pie, I’ll bring you some!” You decided as he nodded.

“Perhaps wait until after the storm to come back out.” He said, and you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile across his face.

“Only because you said so,” You winked at him, pulling your scarf tighter as you turned to the door. “Thank you again, Shouta. I totally owe you.” You added with a wave as you exited, braving the cold as you hustled back home, a stay warm! Echoing behind you.

You had seen less of him in the days following the storm. The streets had been cleared, and the only interaction you had actually had was the plate left on your doorstep with a note saying “Pie was great. Thank you.” Maybe it was the end of the grading period, you reasoned as you looked outside. He was gone before you woke in the morning, and didn’t get home until way late in the night. You almost missed the little waves he had started sending in your direction as he drove off in the morning, or the small conversations you had as you conveniently had to take the trash out as he pulled in.

You shut off your computer with a sigh, heading into the kitchen to scrounge together a dinner of whatever little bits of foods you could find in the fridge, leaning against the counter as you scrolled on your phone. You nearly jumped out of your skin as a stern knock rang out, banging on your door. It was dark outside, nerves setting in as you read the time. It was nearly midnight, no reason for anyone to be knocking. You glanced out the window as you approached the door cautiously. Shouta had gotten home at some point, and you hoped that if something happened and you screamed loud enough he would at least call the police for you.

The knock came again as you grabbed the knob, honestly starting to get annoyed with whoever was on the other side. If they were banging on your door at midnight, they could at least have some patience. You nearly fell back as you swung the door open at the sight before you. Shouta stood on your porch, breathing heavily as he stared into your soul.

“(y/n) I-” He cut himself off, shaking his head, “I’m so sorry to bother you, I don’t know what’s come over me.” he shrank into the shadows of your porch, stepping back as his nose flared.

“What happened, are you alright?” You rushed out, reaching a hand out to grab his arm as he stumbled back further. He was dressed differently, all back with a heavy looking belt, a gray scarf wrapped tight around him. He shook his head again, trying to pull his arm away before freezing as he looked down at you. You squirmed in his gaze, you hadn’t even thought to throw on a jacket or something over your thin tank top as you opened the door, chills going through your skin at the icy air, nipples hardening to a point.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was low, almost a whisper as you shook your head, not having a clue what he was talking about, “When you said you owed me.” He explained, grabbing onto your own arm, embarrassingly making you lean into him. His words sent a spark through you, a spark you had been trying to snuff out since you first stood on his doorstep offering him cookies.

“Of course.” You mumbled out, eyes caught in his own.

“I was hit with a quirk.” He explained, guiding you back into your open doorway. “But I promise you, this is not just because of the quirk.” he slammed your door shut behind him, dragging you further into your house. He looked around, finally pulling you up the stairs. “Room?” he asked suddenly, whipping around to you.

“Room? What? What is going on?” Your head spun, gesturing to a door down the hall anyway.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked bluntly as he dragged you through the doorway, causing you to choke. 

“Well I’m not going to say no.” You laughed awkwardly. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, you had fantasized about him in your bed more than once, and you were going to take the chance if it presented itself to you his words of it’s not just because of the quirk echoing in your mind. “What do you mean by the quirk what happened?” You questioned, breath catching as he pulled you close, hands sliding under your shirt as his lips fell on your neck.

“Stupid fucking sex quirk.” He breathed out, “Makes you irresistibly horny for the one you’re most attracted to.” His words made you flush, suddenly feeling almost too hot as he lifted you, legs coming around his waist as he led you to the bed.

“Most attracted to?” You squeaked as he dropped you, soon coming back and capturing your lips on his own as a response. Your shirt was fully pushed up now, his hands cupping your breasts in a way that had you moaning into his mouth.

“I’ll tell you everything later.” He huffed out as he pulled back, a heavy gaze falling down to watch as he massaged your boobs. “I’m sorry if I came off as rude.” He continued, pulling your shirt over your head, his own following. “You make me-” He cut himself off with a groan as he ground against you, causing you to arch into him. “Fucking insane.” he finished, pulling back to yank off your shorts.

“In a good way?” You asked, trying for a joke but failing as you moaned out, his fingers sliding along your entrance.

“The best way.” He answered, sliding a finger inside and curling it, your hips bucking. He added another finger, easing you open. “I won’t be able to be gentle with you.” he sighed out, almost sounding disappointed as he pulled his fingers out, causing you to whine at the loss.

“I never said I wanted you to be.” You whispered out, watching as a smug grin split his face as he leaned back, pulling down his pants.

His cock was incredibly hard, almost looking painful as he looked down at you below him, stripped bare, legs spread wide and cheeks flushed. “You’re irresistible, you know that.” he cooed down at you, hair falling in his face as he looked down, guiding his cock to slide along your core. You groaned at the sensation, breaking out into a high pitched moan as he slid in roughly, entirely in one motion. 

His pace was almost brutal as he gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed as you cried out below him. “Look at you…” He said, brushing your hair back from your face as he grunted, “Just letting me in to fuck you.” You cried out at his words, your moans filling your empty halls. Your brain had officially left your body as you melted into him, pliant in whatever he wanted from you.

Your voice only raised in volume as his hand snaked down between you, finding your clit and rubbing with a brutality that matched his thrust, the pleasure almost making it hard to breathe. You felt the pressure increase, and knew you were close, far closer than you imagined. He leaned down, sucking harshly at your nipple, and with that you were done, nearly screaming his name as you came around him. He moaned at the feeling, hips stuttering before pulling out suddenly, grasping his cock in his hand, and with a few jerky movements he was cumming too, painting your skin with thick ropes.

He held his eyes tightly shut as he came, stilling above you. He looked like a god in this light, and for this moment he was yours. “I’ll grab you a towel.” He murmured, finally pulling away from you. Your eyes followed him as he left the room, brain finally deciding to reconnect as you asked yourself what the fuck just happened?

[calitears]

VLOG #2. ARE WE GIVING TEEN BEACH MOVIE?

PREVIOUS | STORY MASTERLIST | NEXT

The week had gone by faster than you expected, and you felt somewhat disappointed about no longer having the excuse to see Megumi everyday.

The past few days you had spent with him had been surprisingly enjoyable. Despite how much he was perceived as ‘nonchalant’ or preferred to keep to himself, he wasn’t boring. You found out he lived further down the same street as you and Maki, allowing you both to walk home together after your shifts. Along with that, you appreciated how surprisingly easy he had been to get along with.

He wasn’t aware, but by the end of your shift Thursday night, you had left with a list of his recommendations in movies, music, and places to visit that you’d built throughout the week.

“What’s got you pondering off?”

You looked up to meet Maki’s eyes, her usual glasses replaced with a more stylized version of those typical when you think about the 60’s.

“Nothing… just reminiscing about my first week.”

“Reminiscing?”

You sighed dramatically, and proceeded to help her fix the bumpit on her head. “Yeah, no more easy shifts.”

She rolled her eyes, and once satisfied with her hair, walked out the girls bathroom with you following behind. “You sure that’s all you’re gonna miss?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well…” she started, nodding her head in the direction towards the hostess stand.

Your gaze followed, and landed on Megumi. If it hadn’t been for his slicked back hair, you would’ve assumed he had just thrown on one of his usual outfits and called it a day. Especially standing next to Yuta, who had really gone all out tonight. Bandana, button up shirt, shorts, shoes and all.

“What are you hinting at?”

“I think you like my cousin.”

“Oh, Maki shut up-“

“I’m being serious, don’t lie to my face y/n. You’ve spent the whole week with him, and i’ve seen how you try to get his attention.”

“I’m not trying to get his attention-“

Yet maki cut you off a second time, continuing, “You mess around with him, take your breaks at the same time, you’re into him.”

She looked back at Megumi and Yuta, before sighing. “Honestly i’m more surprised it’s working than anything.”

“What?”

“I mean i’m surprised he’s… reciprocating whatever you two have, guess the beach’s air finally created some chemical balance in his brain.”

“Okay? So he’s handsome, doesn’t mean im gonna go after him, plus he’s your cousin so…”

“So? He’s a grown man, he knows what he’s doing and what he gets himself into. I couldn’t care less what he does. He’s not my responsibility just because we happen to be related.”

She nudged your shoulder gently, watching as the two boys attended the first few dressed up guests that started showing up.

“I mean, obviously unless you did something insanely evil to him. But even then, i’m closer to you than i’ll probably ever be to him, or even would want to be.”

You wrapped your arms around her neck, smiling over her shoulder. “Aw Maki…”

She scoffed and gently pushed you off, but she couldn’t hide the smile that passed her face. “Alright don’t push it. Just if anything ends up happening, know I warned you that no man around here is conventionally attractive and normal.”

Maki tied her apron around her waist, and proceeded to put a few extra straws in the pocket, “I feel it in my tits he has a secret account where he thirst traps to lana del rey for attention.”

NOTES:

they ain’t got a clue in the fucking world rn

megumi lore drop

will slowly reveal what happened between yuji and yn throughout the story

and i just wanna say thank you to everyone that’s commented or like or reblogged you guys rlly do motivate me like tysm babes i appreciate every single one of you!! kisses xx 🩵

TAGLIST - open! comment on story masterlist or dm to be added

@qtnchuu @kaiiibxby @not-a-glad-gladiator @frootloopscos @oreotunes @mikasaspatas @sttaejoon-blog @viaelax @0rangej0e @rustymind @ckaulitzz @gradmacoco @getosh0e @chososcamgirl @cleomenelac @axquella @agzio180 @enchantinghonymoon @lauuriiiz @1l-ynn @piwonzne @l1v1ngzomb1e @iluvchuuyaa @missionarymia @sazzinova @good-mourning0 @taefanclub @lanovelera4 @juliarchiv3s @saeskiss @xo-nyx @linamacchiato @izukusfangirl @s3ns4ti0n4l @anqelkoz @reicyberia @yourbeautifulfairyprincess @rwura @saltypuffin1040 @hawk3y @veriiques @onmycloudyet @fushigurq @ppyn @ladytamayolover @armin-fein123 @ilovewonyo @ilybbg @denverex @tfshiz

[yunholic-jongholic]

Hi i’m the anon that also wants you to do the jongho fluff🤭 If your requests are still open, could you do one with Jongho where he’s protective over the reader? I think i’d be interesting to see since he doesn’t really show his emotions a lot and doesn’t like physical touch (at least out in the open lol) Thanks!!

Not Just Protective | C.JH x Reader

PAIRING | Choi Jongho x Reader

RATING | Not really bad but just in case; 16+? 18+?

CONTENT WARNINGS | FLUFF, Protective Boyfriend!Jongho, Jealousy, Hint of Possessiveness, Drinking, Alcohol Consumption, Suggestive/Talking about Smut, Bar Setting, Insecurities, Anxiety (Might be missing some. I will have to come back.)

WORD COUNT | 12.4k

AUTHOR NOTE | Omggg yes!! more Jongho fluff stories :3 (I will take all recommendations hehe) I hope you enjoy! This is a bit long hehe. I want to make an ACTUAL protective boyfriend Jongho series story... Maybe one day <3

•

You were in the middle of getting ready for work, slipping into your uniform as you caught your reflection in the mirror. You sighed quietly. The truth was—you didn’t really feel like going in today.

After finishing your associate’s degree, you’d spent months applying to office jobs, hoping for something steady, something that matched your efforts. But all you got in return was radio silence.

So, for now, you were working at a high-end hotel restaurant. Most days you worked as a hostess, other days behind the bar—wherever they needed you, really.

You grabbed your bag, gave yourself one last glance in the mirror, and headed out the door. The familiar weight of your routine settled over you as you walked to your car, keys jingling quietly in your hand.

The drive to the hotel wasn’t long, but your mind wandered the entire way—thinking about everything and nothing. The same playlist played softly through the speakers, a background to the same streets you took every day.

Pulling into the employee parking lot, you took a deep breath before stepping out, smoothing down your uniform. You could already hear the faint hum of the lobby through the entrance—soft piano music, distant conversation, the clinking of glasses from the bar.

Inside, everything was polished and perfect. The floors gleamed, the lighting warm and elegant. You clocked in, slipped on your name tag, and forced the usual smile into place. Time to play your part.

“Morning,” one of the servers greeted as they passed by, already balancing a tray of champagne flutes.

“Morning,” you replied, your voice even but distant.

Another day. Another shift. Same script.

You headed straight to the back to clock in, tying your hair up into a ponytail with practiced ease. Tonight, you were assigned to the bar—one of those nights where they were short-staffed and needed extra hands. No time to dwell, just time to move.

You made your way behind the bar and slipped into your routine, already taking orders, mixing drinks, and putting on your best "I’ve got this" expression.

Then, mid-pour, your phone buzzed from inside your apron pocket.

You let it ring the first time, brushing it off—probably nothing urgent.

But then it buzzed again. And again.

You sighed and glanced around, making sure you weren’t in the middle of something, then pulled your phone out for a quick peek.

Jongho.

Your heart softened a little at the name, even if the timing made you sigh again. You wiped your hands on a towel and quickly stepped to the side, just long enough to answer.

“Hey!” you greeted with a small smile, already feeling a bit lighter just hearing his voice.

“Hey,” Jongho replied. “Have you left for work yet?”

You sighed, glancing down at the towel still in your hand. “Yeah, I’m already here. Just started my shift at the bar.”

There was a pause on his end, then the sound of game effects filtered faintly through the call. “Hmm… I might stop by. After my game, of course.”

You could practically hear the controller clicking in the background.

“Aww, do you miss me already?” you teased, grinning as you leaned against the counter for a second, stealing a quiet moment.

“I’m just bored,” he said flatly.

You rolled your eyes, the smile still lingering on your lips. “Wow. So romantic.”

He went quiet for a beat… and then you heard him chuckle under his breath.

“You know I miss you,” he finally muttered.

That made your stomach do a little flip—like it always did when he slipped up and let the soft side show.

“I miss you too,” you said quietly, the words slipping out more tenderly than you expected.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, and you felt your heart flutter in that familiar way only Jongho could stir—like no matter how routine the day felt, just hearing his voice reminded you you weren’t alone in it.

There was a pause on the line again, not awkward, just… comfortable. You could hear him shifting a bit, maybe setting his controller down.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, softer this time.

You smiled, still holding the phone close. “Can’t wait.”

Just as you ended the call, a coworker passed by with a smirk. “Ooooh, someone’s blushing.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, slipping your phone back into your apron pocket. “Mind your business.”

But you couldn’t help the smile that lingered on your lips as you turned back to the bar, the night suddenly feeling a little brighter with the thought of Jongho stopping by.

You slipped back into the rhythm of work—pouring drinks, wiping down the counter, checking orders. The usual. But your thoughts kept drifting to Jongho. Even just the idea of him stopping by made everything feel a bit easier.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked in, hoodie half-zipped, hands in his pockets, and that usual soft look in his eyes when he spotted you. He made his way to the bar and plopped down directly across from you.

“Apparently Wooyoung and San are coming too,” he sighed, leaning his arms on the counter like a man preparing for war.

You raised an eyebrow, already grinning. “Oh, that’ll be fun.”

He gave you a look. “Fun for you, maybe.”

You laughed, already picturing Wooyoung’s usual chaos and San’s dramatic reactions. “C’mon, they love you.”

“They love teasing me,” he muttered, reaching for the straw in your water cup like it was his now.

“Well,” you smirked, leaning on the bar and lowering your voice playfully, “I’ll protect you… as long as you tip well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally my girlfriend.”

“Doesn’t mean you get free drinks and immunity from chaos.”

Jongho just groaned, resting his head dramatically on the bar. “I should’ve stayed home.”

You laughed again, already grabbing a clean glass and sliding it his way. “Too late. You’re here now.”

Jongho sat up again, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you move behind the bar—grabbing bottles, mixing a drink for another customer, wiping down the counter with easy rhythm. You could feel his eyes on you, and when you glanced up, he didn’t even bother looking away.

“What?” you asked, giving him a playful side-eye as you filled a glass.

“Nothing,” he said, voice soft. “Just… you’re cute when you’re focused.”

You paused for a second, surprised by how casual yet sincere it sounded. That flutter in your chest returned, spreading warmth through you in the middle of your shift like it belonged there.

“Stop it,” you mumbled, trying to hide your smile as you turned away slightly, pretending to check something under the bar.

He smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Just telling the truth.”

You leaned back over the bar, elbows resting on the surface as you looked at him. “If you keep talking like that, I’m gonna make you wash dishes.”

“Worth it,” he said without hesitation.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was already melting.

He reached across the bar, brushing his fingers lightly against yours where your hand rested on the counter. It was quick, subtle—but enough to remind you how grounding his presence was, how even with all the noise around you, it felt like everything quieted when he was near.

Before either of you could say anything else, the front doors swung open, and you both turned your heads.

“I see you, Jongho!” came Wooyoung’s voice, way too loud for the room.

You groaned, laughing under your breath. “And so it begins.”

Jongho muttered, “There’s still time to run.”

You handed him a menu. “Too late. You’re mine now.”

He smiled, already bracing himself. “Lucky me.”

Jongho pulled his hand back with a sigh, sitting up straighter just as Wooyoung strolled in like he owned the place. He made a beeline for the bar, sliding onto the stool right beside Jongho with that signature mischievous grin already in place.

“Awwww, little bear visiting his girlfriend at work,” Wooyoung cooed loudly, nudging Jongho with his elbow. “That’s soooo cute. Look at you—soft and whipped.”

Jongho coughed, clearly trying to play it off, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red. You smirked as you grabbed a couple of glasses, already starting to make drinks for the two new guests.

“Be nice,” you warned, shaking a mixer with practiced ease. “Or I’ll mess up your drink on purpose.”

Wooyoung gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

As you moved around behind the bar, you caught the little frown that formed on Jongho’s face. He slouched slightly, muttering just loud enough for you to hear, “Would’ve loved it if it was just us two.”

You glanced at him, your heart tugging a little at how sincere he sounded.

Setting Wooyoung’s finished drink in front of him, you leaned a little closer to Jongho and said softly, just for him, “We’ll get our moment again. Promise.”

He met your eyes and gave a small, grateful smile—one that said he believed you.

Then, right on cue, San walked in.

“Let the chaos begin,” you whispered under your breath.

San arrived moments later, arms spread dramatically as if he were entering a concert, not a classy hotel bar. “Ahhh, I made it! The night can officially begin!” he declared, sliding into the seat on your side of the bar next to Wooyoung.

“You’re just on time,” Wooyoung smirked, lifting his drink. “Jongho’s here being all soft and romantic.”

San raised a brow, glancing at Jongho, then back at you. “You must be something special if he’s skipping game time for a mid-shift visit.”

You chuckled, handing San his drink with a playful shrug. “I’m just that magical, apparently.”

San placed a hand over his heart. “I respect it.”

You noticed Jongho glance at San after his comment—not full-on glaring, but the look definitely had an edge to it. Subtle, but there. A silent watch it kind of moment.

Before things could get weird, you jumped in to shift the energy.

“So,” you said, offering a bright smile as you leaned on the counter, “what are you guys doing this weekend?”

Jongho finally relaxed at the change of topic, leaning back in his seat, his usual calm returning.

Wooyoung perked up. “Our friend Seonghwa is throwing a party tomorrow night. Real classy, probably candles everywhere and a strict 'no shoes in the house' rule.”

You laughed. “Sounds like him.”

“Anyway,” Wooyoung continued with a grin, “he wants Jongho to come, but you know how hard that is. Someone refuses to go to parties unless food, bribes, or emotional guilt is involved.”

Jongho shot him a look. “I just don’t like people.”

“Exactly,” Wooyoung said, pointing at you now. “That’s where you come in. You’re his weakness. Help us. Use your powers.”

You laughed and nodded. “Oh, I’m totally down! I’ll just swap shifts—my manager’s pretty chill. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Bless you,” San said, raising his glass in appreciation.

You gave Jongho a wink before turning to help a customer waving from the other end of the bar. “Be right back!”

As you walked off, Wooyoung leaned over to Jongho with a smug grin. “See? She’d trade a whole shift just to party with you. That’s love, bro.”

Jongho didn’t say anything at first, just watched you as you smiled at a guest and took their order, light on your feet, completely in your element.

“Yeah… it is.”

Jongho’s voice was quiet, like the words slipped out before he could stop them. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and as soon as he realized it, he quickly cleared his throat and looked down at his phone, pretending to check something—anything—to shake off the feeling.

You came back a moment later, smiling like sunshine. “You guys want anything else to drink?”

Wooyoung shook his head. “I’m good for now.”

Jongho gave you a small smile. “I’ll take another water if you’re not too busy.”

“On it,” you said, already grabbing a clean glass. “By the way… what time’s the party tomorrow?”

Wooyoung pulled out his phone and tapped through his messages. “Uhh… Seonghwa said people should start arriving around 7pm. And it’ll go till, like, 2am or something. You know how he is—candles, jazz playlists, and exact timing.”

You laughed and pulled out your phone, quickly setting a reminder with a little star next to it. “Perfect. I’m gonna go ask my manager to switch my schedule now before I forget.”

You were already halfway down the bar before they could even respond—determined, focused, and just a little too excited.

Jongho watched you go, a faint smile tugging at his lips again. Wooyoung leaned over with a teasing grin.

“She’s really doing it. For you. That’s girlfriend of the year energy.”

Jongho tried to play it cool, sipping his drink. “Yeah, well… she’s kind of the best.”

Wooyoung smirked. “You’re so gone.”

“I know,” Jongho muttered, almost proud of it.

San leaned over and playfully ruffled Jongho’s hair. “Aww,” he cooed with a grin, dragging the word out in the most annoying way possible.

Wooyoung absolutely lost it, nearly falling off his stool with laughter.

Jongho shot San a glare and immediately shoved his arm away, smoothing his hair back down with dramatic offense. “Touch me again and you’re walking home.”

San just winked. “Still worth it.”

Jongho grumbled something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh.

Just then, you returned, a triumphant smile on your face. “Manager said it’s all good! I’m off tomorrow night!”

“Let’s gooo!” Wooyoung fist-pumped in the air.

But before you could rejoin the boys, a customer three seats down waved you over. “Excuse me, could I get another drink when you get the chance?”

“Of course!” you said warmly, already moving in their direction.

You chatted with them as you poured their drink, asking how their night was going, if they were staying at the hotel, and tossing in a few light jokes here and there. It was natural for you—easy. You had a way of making people feel comfortable, seen, like they belonged there.

It didn’t go unnoticed either. The guest chuckled, smiling more with every word, clearly enjoying the conversation. And a few seats away, your little trio of chaos-makers watched it unfold.

“She’s so good at this,” San said, sipping his drink. “I’d leave a tip just for the conversation.”

Jongho leaned his chin on his hand, watching you with soft eyes as you laughed at something the guest said.

“Yeah,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “That’s why everyone loves her.”

Wooyoung glanced down at him, catching that rare softness in Jongho’s voice. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “You’re so down bad, bro.”

Jongho didn’t respond. Instead, he looked away, shifting in his seat like he was trying to shake off the weight in his chest. He sat up straighter, eyes flicking toward you behind the bar as you finished chatting with the guest—still smiling, still lighting up the room like it was nothing.

Then, almost out of nowhere, he cleared his throat and said, “Well… once you both finish drinking, may I have some alone time with her?”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this new side of Jongho. “Oh? Look at you being all bold.”

San grinned around his straw, then shrugged. “Say less.”

He immediately chugged the rest of his drink like it was a challenge, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up with a dramatic flourish. “I have no problem being a wingman. Go get your girl.”

Wooyoung, still smirking, raised his glass and finished the last sip slowly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That narrows it down to nothing,” Jongho shot back dryly, finally cracking a smile.

Wooyoung winked and slid off the stool, following San toward the lounge area. “You’re welcome.”

Now it was just Jongho at the bar, quietly waiting for you to make your way back over, fingers tapping lightly on the counter—trying to look casual, but his heart already beating faster.

As San and Wooyoung disappeared into the lounge, the bar grew a little quieter. The clinking of glasses and low hum of conversation continued in the background, but for a moment, it felt like the world had pulled back just enough to make space for the two of you.

You walked back over, wiping your hands on a bar towel as you noticed Jongho still sitting there, alone now, quietly waiting.

“No more teasing?” you asked with a playful tilt of your head.

He looked up at you, eyes softer than before, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Only from you.”

You chuckled, resting your hands on the counter as you leaned in just a little. “Everything okay?”

He nodded slowly, then glanced down at the glass in front of him, turning it absently with his fingers. “Yeah. I just… kinda wanted a minute with you. Just us.”

You blinked, heart doing that quiet little flutter again. “You have me,” you said gently, voice dropping just a little.

There was a pause—one of those quiet silences that didn't feel empty, just full of things neither of you had said yet.

“I like watching you here,” Jongho admitted, finally looking up again. “The way you talk to people. The way you make everyone feel like they belong.”

You smiled, eyes softening. “It’s just part of the job.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s you. It’s just who you are.”

Your breath caught for a second, the sincerity in his voice hitting deeper than you expected. You reached over the counter, brushing your fingers gently over his hand.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” you said quietly. “It… means a lot.”

He turned his hand under yours, lacing your fingers together, his touch warm and grounding. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I just like being where you are.”

And in that moment—amidst the low lights, the quiet chatter, and the clink of glass—it felt like the rest of the world faded out, leaving just the two of you in that small, perfect pocket of peace.

You leaned in, forehead resting gently against his, your fingers still loosely tangled with his. For a brief, breathless moment, the two of you just looked at each other—eyes locked, everything around you fading into background noise.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” you hummed, your voice low, a little playful, but full of something softer. Your gaze flicked to his lips, lingering just long enough to make your intentions clear.

But Jongho, ever the flustered and stubborn one, pulled back slightly and coughed—completely betraying how affected he actually was.

“Yeah… sure,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Just… don’t tell the others I’m staying at your place tonight. They’ll never shut up about it. I’ll hear about it for a week straight.”

He looked away, clearly trying to avoid your eyes now. But you didn’t miss the pink tint rising to his cheeks.

You rolled your eyes with a teasing smile. “God forbid your friends know you actually like spending time with your girlfriend.”

He groaned quietly. “They already know. That’s the problem.”

You laughed under your breath, leaning on the bar again. “You’re lucky I think it’s cute when you act all cool and distant.”

“I am cool,” he muttered, still refusing to look at you—but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You tilted your head slightly, voice dropping just a little. “You know if we weren’t in public right now, I’d kiss you.”

Jongho’s eyes finally flicked back to yours, a flicker of something unreadable—desire, longing, shyness—crossing his face.

“I know,” he murmured, lips twitching into a small smirk. “That’s why I’m staying.”

And just like that, your heart did that stupid thing it always did around him—fluttered and clenched at the same time.

The night moved on around you—drinks ordered, conversations drifting in and out, music playing low in the background—but your moment with Jongho lingered, hanging like warmth in the air between you.

Eventually, you sighed, reluctantly straightening up. “Alright, I’ve got like twenty more minutes until I can clock out.”

Jongho nodded, sipping the last of his drink. “I’ll hang out here until you’re done.”

“Try not to fall asleep on the bar again,” you teased, walking away to tend to a few final tables.

He smirked behind his glass. “No promises.”

The rest of your shift flew by. You stayed busy, wiping down the counter, cashing out tabs, chatting with a few regulars. Every time you glanced over, Jongho was still there—quietly watching, head resting on his hand, a soft look on his face that he thought you didn’t see.

By the time you finally clocked out and tossed your apron in the back, the bar had mostly cleared. You returned to him, slipping on your jacket.

“Ready?” you asked.

“Always,” he replied, standing up and stretching slightly before falling into step beside you.

The walk to your place was quiet, but comfortable. The streets were calm, the cool air brushing softly against your skin. Jongho kept close, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, glancing over at you every now and then like he was making sure you were still there.

Once inside, you kicked off your shoes, dimmed the lights, and threw your keys in the little bowl by the door. Jongho followed behind, slower, quieter, taking in the calm of your space.

You turned to look at him. “You can borrow some clothes if you want.”

He nodded. “Thanks. You always have the best hoodies.”

You smiled and grabbed him one from your drawer—one he’d worn before, one that probably still smelled faintly like him.

He disappeared into the bathroom to change, and when he came out, hair a little tousled and hoodie slightly too big on him, your heart did another quiet little flip.

You were already curled up in bed, blanket pulled halfway up, lights low, your phone forgotten on the nightstand.

Jongho climbed in beside you without a word, slipping under the covers and immediately letting out a soft exhale as he settled in next to you.

You turned to face him, resting your hand gently against his chest. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

He looked at you, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks for being my peace.”

You didn’t say anything—you just leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to his cheek, letting the moment speak for itself.

And as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, you knew this was it—your safe place, your quiet ending, your little piece of forever tucked into one sleepy night.

---

The next morning, you woke up with the familiar warmth of Jongho's arms wrapped around you, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. His body was relaxed, lips slightly parted, completely lost in sleep.

You shifted slightly, pressing your face deeper into his chest, not quite ready to leave the little world the two of you had created between the sheets. His warmth, the faint scent of his hoodie, the quiet—everything in that moment begged you to stay.

But reality tugged at the edges of your peace.

You sighed softly, carefully untangling yourself from his hold so you wouldn’t wake him. Your feet hit the cool floor as you padded to the bathroom, freshening up and slipping into your daily clothes.

By the time you came back into the room, Jongho was awake—barely.

He was lying exactly where you left him, the blanket halfway off his leg, phone in hand, earbuds in, and music playing just loud enough for you to catch the beat. His hair was a soft mess, and his eyes were still heavy with sleep, but he smiled lazily when he saw you.

“You’re up early,” he said, voice deep and raspy from sleep.

You crossed your arms with a smirk. “Someone in this house has to be responsible.”

He stretched dramatically, his hoodie riding up just enough to reveal the waistband of his sweats. “Mmm, give me like… ten more years. Then I’ll get up.”

You chuckled and grabbed his free hand, giving it a small squeeze. “I gotta head out soon. Want anything before I go?”

He blinked at you, squeezing your hand back. “Just one more hug.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead before sinking into the bed beside him, letting his arms wrap around you one last time before the day truly started.

You melted back into his arms for a moment, letting yourself indulge in the comfort of it—his warmth, the way his fingers found your waist like muscle memory, and how he let out a soft sigh the second you were close again.

“Okay,” you whispered, cheek against his chest. “Just five more minutes.”

“Mhm,” Jongho hummed, smug. “Told you I was the bad influence.”

You both stayed like that a while longer, the music still playing quietly from his phone. Eventually, your stomach let out a quiet grumble, and you groaned, burying your face into him.

He laughed. “That was either your stomach… or a really dramatic protest about leaving me.”

You peeked up at him. “Maybe both.”

Jongho finally sat up, stretching with a sleepy yawn as you got out of bed again, heading to the kitchen.

“Cereal or pancakes?” you called out.

“Pancakes if you’re feeling fancy. Cereal if you’re running late.”

“I’m always running late,” you replied, grabbing the pancake mix anyway.

He wandered in a few minutes later, still in your hoodie, hair sticking up in soft little waves. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you pour batter into the pan.

“You know,” he murmured, “you look really pretty like this.”

You looked over your shoulder, eyebrow raised. “Like what? Rushed and barefoot in the kitchen?”

He grinned. “Exactly that.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the smile creeping in.

He came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Let me flip the next one.”

“You? In the kitchen? Scandalous,” you teased.

“I’m multi-talented,” he replied proudly.

You handed him the spatula. “Alright, chef. Impress me.”

He flipped it… and somehow managed to fold the pancake in half mid-air.

You burst out laughing. “Wow. So talented.”

“I panicked,” he admitted, dead serious. “It betrayed me.”

The morning continued with small laughter, messy pancakes, shared bites, and clinking mugs of coffee. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t a big event. But it was your kind of morning—full of love in the simplest, most beautiful way.

Jongho had his head leaned back against the cushion, eyes half-closed as you scrolled on your phone beside him. Occasionally, he’d peek over at your screen just to see what you were watching, or randomly poke your leg with his foot like he was silently asking for attention.

You nudged him back. “You gonna nap before the party?”

He opened one eye, looking at you with the laziest smirk. “Tempting.”

You tilted your head. “If you fall asleep now, I’m leaving you behind.”

“Liar,” he mumbled.

You laughed. “Okay… maybe.”

Eventually, you both stretched and pulled yourselves off the couch, the sunlight dipping just enough to remind you the day was sliding into evening.

You walked to your room to pick out something cute but comfortable, something party-worthy but still “you.” Jongho lingered behind, checking his phone, probably responding to Wooyoung's 15 unread messages. Then you heard him call out:

“Do I need to dress up for this thing or is hoodie-acceptable?”

You grinned. “It’s Seonghwa’s place. You show up in a hoodie, he might disown you.”

“Seonghwa would never disown his favorite child,” Jongho sighed dramatically. “Guess I will try anyways.”

You pulled a few outfit options from your closet, debating in the mirror, and called out, “Wanna help me pick?”

He appeared at the door, leaning on the frame like he had nothing better to do—but his eyes lit up the second he saw you holding up outfits.

“You’d look good in anything,” he said smoothly.

“Flattery doesn’t help me choose,” you shot back, but your cheeks warmed anyway.

He stepped in, gently tugging one of the hangers from your hand. “Wear this one. It’s… very you.”

You raised a brow. “You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

And just like that, you could feel the shift—the lazy morning slipping away, replaced by the excitement of what the night might bring… and the quiet thrill of having him by your side for all of it.

The sun had just finished dipping below the horizon when you and Jongho stepped out of the car, the glow of streetlights and the warm ambiance from Seonghwa’s house lighting up the front porch like a welcome sign. Music thumped softly behind the front door, the kind that set the mood without being too loud. You could already hear voices inside laughing, chatting, glasses clinking.

You looked over at Jongho as you both approached the door, nudging his arm with a grin. “You ready to socialize, introvert?”

He sighed. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I’m only here because you said you’d stay near me the whole time.”

“I never said that” you teased.

He shot you a look. “Wow.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his as the door swung open. Seonghwa greeted you both with a warm smile, dressed to perfection as always.

“Hey! You made it!” he beamed, pulling you into a quick hug and giving Jongho a clap on the shoulder. “Didn’t think I’d see you tonight, man.”

Jongho gave a dry smile. “I was blackmailed.”

You grinned proudly. “Happy to be the reason.”

Inside, the space was glowing with soft lights—candles, fairy lights, and the flicker of ambient lamps casting a cozy, social vibe. Some people were lounging on the couch, others around the kitchen island, a few already dancing in the open space by the speakers.

“Drinks are in the kitchen, snacks on the table, and if Wooyoung challenges you to anything, don’t accept,” Seonghwa warned with a laugh before disappearing to greet more guests.

You glanced up at Jongho. “So… what’s the plan? Drinks? Couch cuddles? Social suffering?”

He smirked. “Surprise me.”

You tugged him gently toward the kitchen, already spotting San and Wooyoung waving at you from across the room, drinks in hand, chaos practically radiating from them.

You gave Jongho’s hand a squeeze.

“Welcome to the party,” you whispered.

He leaned in close, lips by your ear, voice low. “Just don’t disappear on me.”

“Never.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, watching his face immediately turn a soft shade of pink. He tried to play it cool, but the way his ears tinted red completely gave him away.

You plopped down on the couch beside him, legs brushing his as you leaned in comfortably. He shifted just enough to let you rest against him, your presence fitting perfectly into the curve of his side.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, giving his arm a gentle caress before leaning your head on his shoulder for a brief moment. “I’m gonna grab us some drinks.”

But Jongho immediately pouted, lips poking out slightly as he gave you a look of pure betrayal.

“You just said you wouldn’t disappear on me!”

You giggled, standing up anyway. “I’m disappearing to the kitchen, drama king. That’s like… twenty feet.”

“That’s twenty feet too far,” he muttered, crossing his arms and slouching into the couch like a sulking puppy.

You grinned and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “I’ll be right back, bear. Promise.”

He peeked up at you with that reluctant smile—the kind he gave only you when he knew he was being ridiculous but couldn’t help it.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “Bring something sweet.”

��You, or the drink?” you teased.

He snorted, finally laughing. “Both.”

You winked before heading off to the kitchen, leaving him there watching you walk away with that same soft, quiet look you’d caught him wearing so many times before.

You made it to the kitchen with no issues—grabbed two drinks (something fruity for you, something simple and sweet for Jongho), and even snagged a cookie from the snack table because, well, why not?

But just as you turned around, ready to return to your pouty, sofa-bound boyfriend, you heard it.

“There she is!” Wooyoung’s voice rang out from across the kitchen like a siren of chaos.

You barely had time to blink before San popped up beside him, eyes wide with fake urgency. “We need a fourth for this game, and it’s literally life or death.”

“What game?” you asked suspiciously, backing up slightly—but too late.

They were already flanking you like bodyguards of mischief.

“Never Have I Ever,” Wooyoung declared proudly, grabbing one of the drinks from your hand—Jongho’s, of course—like it was part of some secret deal.

“We already dragged Yeosang and Yunho in, but they’re boring,” San added, grabbing your wrist. “You’re chaos. You make things fun.”

“Jongho’s gonna be so mad,” you laughed, half resisting as they started guiding you toward the living room again.

“Then tell him to come join!” Wooyoung grinned.

You looked over your shoulder, already seeing Jongho still sitting on the couch exactly where you left him—until his eyes met yours, narrowed in suspicion as you were being dragged away like a crime scene witness.

“Babe!” you called, laughing. “It’s not my fault! They’re kidnapping me!”

Jongho stood up with a groan, clearly considering whether to intervene or let it happen. “I leave you alone for two minutes.”

“Come on!” San yelled. “If she’s playing, you’re playing!”

And with that, you were plopped onto the floor with a group of overly excited friends, drinks in hand, hearts already racing from the chaos to come. Jongho sighed in surrender and slowly sat down next to you, his knee pressing against yours.

“You owe me,” he muttered.

You smirked, clinking your cup softly against his. “I’ll pay up later.”

You sat cross-legged on the floor between Jongho and San, your drink in hand, surrounded by a semi-circle of your most chaotic friends. Wooyoung clapped his hands together like he was about to summon a demon.

“Alright,” he grinned. “Never Have I Ever. The classic. Five fingers up, first one out gets a punishment. Probably something dumb. Or mildly illegal. We’ll see.”

You all lifted your hands in the air, fingers splayed. Jongho, beside you, already looked so done, but his hand went up anyway.

“I feel like I should lawyer up now,” Jongho muttered.

San smirked. “Too late. You’re in too deep.”

Wooyoung looked around like a game show host ready to ruin friendships. “Okay, I’ll start us off strong. Never have I ever… kissed someone in a public restroom.”

Gasps. Scandal. Laughter.

You stayed still. So did Jongho.

But San? Down went a finger.

“Bro!” Yunho shouted, eyes wide.

San just shrugged. “Look, it was clean. And it was late.”

“Define ‘clean,’” Jongho mumbled.

Next went Yeosang, calm as ever. “Never have I ever… lied to get out of a date.”

You dropped a finger. Wooyoung dropped two, because of course.

“Wow,” Jongho teased, glancing sideways at you. “I’m scared to ask.”

“Hey,” you grinned, nudging his knee. “That was pre-you. Obviously.”

San pointed at Wooyoung. “Your turn.”

Wooyoung took a large gulp of his drink. Already ready to bring Jongho down.

“Never have I ever… have slept with someone in this room.”

You flushed and tried to hide your smile as you very slowly, very casually… lowered a finger.

Jongho noticed. His face deep red as he lowered a finger as well.

The group exploded.

“BRO.” “YOU DID NOT—” “OUR BABY BEAR AND HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!”

You shrugged with a smirk. “Might’ve been the same person who’s pouting on the couch earlier.”

Jongho bit back a smile. The group lost it.

“I KNEW IT!” San yelled.

“THEY'RE SO GONE FOR EACH OTHER,” Wooyoung added, already throwing a pillow in the air like this was some romantic K-drama climax.

You and Jongho just exchanged a look. You—grinning. Him—trying so hard not to smile like an idiot.

Yunho, barely keeping it together, wiped his eyes. “Okay, my turn… Never have I ever fallen asleep while someone was talking.”

You, Wooyoung, and Yeosang immediately dropped fingers.

Jongho leaned toward you with a soft grin. “Is this where you confess that I bore you to sleep?”

You laughed, leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. “Only when you talk about video game updates.”

“Wow. Noted.”

After a few more rounds and a lot more chaos—accidental flirty confessions, someone admitting to stealing hotel slippers, San nearly losing a bet to Yeosang of all people—you were all breathless with laughter.

Jongho was still beside you, fingers long since folded, shoulders relaxed, his hand now loosely laced with yours.

You excused yourself quietly from the group, letting Jongho know you were heading to the bathroom. He gave your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, nodding with that sleepy-eyed look he always wore when he was finally relaxed in a crowd.

After finishing up in the bathroom, you made your way back down the hall, but your steps slowed as you passed the kitchen. You could hear low voices—Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

You paused, not meaning to eavesdrop, but their tone caught your attention.

“I don’t know, man,” Seonghwa said, voice softer than usual. “It’s weird… watching everything change. We used to talk every day. Now it’s all catching up with me.”

“I get it,” Hongjoong replied gently. “It’s life, not distance. You’re still his person. He’s just figuring stuff out, like the rest of us.”

They laughed quietly—bittersweet, but warm. It was one of those real moments between friends. Raw, vulnerable. And it made you smile a little, heart full just hearing the closeness between them.

But before you could turn to head back, a voice from behind startled you.

“Hey, cutie…”

You blinked and turned, eyebrows raised slightly.

A guy—mid-twenties, tall, casual smirk on his lips—stood leaning against the hallway wall behind you, clearly tipsy but trying way too hard to look smooth. You didn’t recognize him immediately, but you assumed he was one of Seonghwa’s coworkers or plus-ones.

You gave him a polite smile, already stepping back slightly. “Hey. Sorry—I was just heading back to my friends.”

He didn’t take the hint.

“You here with anyone?” he asked, smile crooked.

You took another small step back, tone firm but still calm. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“Oh c’mon,” he chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. “Guys like that don’t appreciate girls like you. You should hang with me instead. Promise I’m more fun.”

Before you could answer—before you even had to—another voice cut in, low and sharp.

“She already said she’s taken.”

You turned to see Jongho standing there now, just a few feet away, eyes locked on the guy with that quiet intensity he rarely showed in public.

He stepped forward once, not threatening—but very, very clear.

The guy blinked, looking between you two, then laughed nervously. “Whoa, hey man, chill—was just talking—”

“Yeah,” Jongho said, voice calm but icy. “Talk somewhere else.”

The guy held his hands up, muttering something under his breath before turning and slipping back into the party.

Once he was gone, Jongho let out a breath and turned to you, gaze softening immediately. “You okay?”

You nodded, smiling a little at his protectiveness. “Yeah. He was just being annoying.”

Jongho stepped closer, his hand gently brushing yours. “If I’d known someone was hitting on you, I would’ve followed you the second you stood up.”

You chuckled, leaning into him slightly. “Aww. You were keeping an eye on me.”

“Of course I was,” he said softly. “You're mine.”

You squeezed his hand, heart fluttering just a little more than it should’ve. “Let’s go back before Yunho starts a fire trying to make s’mores on the stove.”

Jongho gave you a small, almost shy smile, still holding onto your hand as you walked back together.

But this time, he didn’t let go.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek—slow, gentle, reassuring. His face flushed a little again, but this time he didn’t pull away. He just held your hand tighter.

You both settled back on the sofa, slipping into the comfortable corner you’d claimed earlier. You took a slow sip from your drink, trying to relax back into the night, but you could feel it: Jongho wasn’t quite settled.

His arm slid around your waist with a quiet kind of certainty, pulling you closer into his side. His body was warm, but there was tension in his hold—protective, almost instinctive.

He scanned the room slowly, eyes drifting across faces, especially the people you didn’t know well. His jaw was set, brows slightly furrowed. He wasn’t being dramatic or obvious—but you knew him. You could feel it.

You rested your head against his shoulder, brushing your fingers gently along his thigh in small circles. “Hey…” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, finally glancing down at you.

“I know,” he said softly. “I just… didn’t like that guy getting near you. The way he talked to you.”

You looked up at him, your voice just above a whisper. “You didn’t even hear the worst of it.”

His jaw tightened again, but he stayed quiet.

“You can relax,” you added gently, cupping his cheek for a second. “I’m here. With you. He’s irrelevant.”

Jongho looked at you, really looked at you, and slowly, you felt his grip soften. His shoulders eased, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I just don’t want anyone thinking they can treat you like that,” he murmured.

“They can’t,” you said. “And you made that very clear.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Guess I did, huh?”

You nodded, snuggling back into him. “You're kind of hot when you’re mad.”

That got a small laugh out of him, and you felt the tension start to melt away. His hand found yours again, lacing your fingers together and holding them against his chest like a quiet promise.

And even though the music played on, and the conversations buzzed around you, Jongho didn’t pay attention to anyone else for the rest of the night—only you.

Wooyoung appeared out of nowhere—again—this time holding a tray of food like some kind of chaotic party butler.

“I don’t think y’all have eaten,” he said, offering the platter with an uncharacteristically sincere smile. “Here.”

“Thanks, Woo,” you said warmly, taking it from him.

Jongho nodded. “Appreciate it.”

Wooyoung gave you both a knowing grin, already backing away. “Seonghwa’s about to start a fire out back, by the way. Y’all are welcome to join if you ever stop being disgustingly adorable.”

You giggled. “Hmm… maybe.”

“Just don’t set anything on fire,” Jongho added flatly.

“No promises!” Wooyoung called out, disappearing into the crowd again.

You turned your attention back to the food—finger snacks, a couple of skewers, something warm and savory that smelled way too good to ignore. You grabbed a piece and held it out to Jongho, who blinked at you like a cat slowly waking up from a nap.

“Open,” you whispered with a grin.

He smirked but complied, taking the bite and chewing while still holding you close.

“My turn,” he said, grabbing something off the plate and lifting it to your lips.

You took the bite, humming in satisfaction as he wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. He rested his chin against your shoulder, clearly more relaxed now, eyes half-lidded and full of something soft.

“Mm,” you mumbled while chewing, “we’re gonna get too comfortable and fall asleep right here.”

“I could live with that,” Jongho said against your shoulder, voice low and warm.

You turned your head slightly, brushing your nose against his cheek.

“You still wanna join the fire outside?” you asked gently.

He shrugged. “If you want to. I’m good either way.”

You smiled, watching how the flickering lights inside danced in his eyes. “Let’s finish this, then maybe we’ll go warm up by the fire.”

“Only if you promise to keep feeding me,” he murmured with a small smirk.

You laughed, feeding him another bite without hesitation. “Always.”

After finishing up the last few bites from Wooyoung’s platter (and playfully fighting over the final piece), you and Jongho finally stood, stretching just a little before making your way through the house and out into the backyard.

The fire pit was already lit, its flames dancing gently in the cool night air. The warmth reached out to greet you the second you stepped outside, the scent of wood smoke and toasted marshmallows floating lazily in the breeze.

Hongjoong stood nearby with a set of metal skewers, looking like a Pinterest dad with his sleeves rolled up and a mug of something warm in hand. San and Wooyoung were already seated around the fire, Wooyoung aggressively roasting three marshmallows at once while San was arguing with Yunho about the “correct” way to make a s’more.

You and Jongho walked over quietly, hand in hand, and dropped down onto a bench across from them. The fire cast a soft orange glow across his face as he tugged you closer, your knees brushing, your bodies naturally leaning into each other.

“There they are,” Wooyoung announced dramatically. “The lovebirds finally decided to grace us with their presence.”

“You’re just mad we didn’t need your s’more tutorial,” you teased, grabbing a skewer from the pile and poking the fire with it.

“I give great s’more advice,” he argued.

“You almost lit your sleeve on fire ten minutes ago,” San pointed out.

“Details.”

Laughter rippled through the group. Seonghwa passed out mugs of hot cocoa with cinnamon sticks in them—because of course he did—and you took one with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing warm against the mug as you sipped.

Jongho sat back, letting you rest against his side as he draped his arm around your shoulders. He was quiet, as usual, but his eyes were softer than usual too, reflecting the firelight as he watched everyone talk and laugh.

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “You good?”

He nodded; voice low. “Yeah. I like this.”

“Me too,” you said, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

Wooyoung started telling a story that was probably exaggerated, San was already laughing before he finished, and someone tossed another log onto the fire, sending sparks swirling upward into the night.

And in the middle of all of it—your arm wrapped snugly around Jongho’s, the fire crackling at your feet, the sound of laughter all around you, and the kind of night that felt just a little too perfect to be real—you closed your eyes for a second and simply existed in it.

That peace, however, was short-lived.

Wooyoung, with his signature smirk and zero sense of personal space, suddenly swooped in and grabbed Jongho’s arm, dramatically wrapping it tighter around you like he was making a grand romantic gesture.

“There we go,” Wooyoung grinned. “Make it look like a K-drama, come on.”

Jongho blinked, processing the moment… then immediately blushed, his entire face turning that soft pink hue he always got when someone caught him off guard. He glared at Wooyoung and threw a light punch to his shoulder—not hard, but enough to make a point.

“Ow!” Wooyoung fake-cried, laughing even as he stumbled back. “Abuse! I’m just trying to spread love!”

San, witnessing the chaos from the other side of the fire, snorted into his drink. “He’s so whipped. It’s adorable.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to laugh as you leaned into Jongho a little more, smug. “You know… you didn’t have to pull me closer.”

“I was already holding you,” Jongho muttered, flustered as ever.

“Mmhm,” you teased. “Sure you were.”

He groaned softly and buried his face in your shoulder. “I can’t hang out with you when they’re around.”

“Yes, you can,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You just have to accept your fate.”

“Unfortunately,” he mumbled, but you felt the way his grip on you tightened slightly, like even in the embarrassment, he wouldn’t change a thing.

And as Wooyoung retold the moment to Yunho like it was a dramatic soap opera twist, and San tried to burn a marshmallow into a torch for no reason at all, you and Jongho just stayed wrapped up in your own little world.

A little chaotic. A little sweet. Just perfect.

After the fire had burned low and the group began to scatter with tired smiles and warm goodbyes, you and Jongho decided to call it a night too. This time, though, instead of him staying at your place—you went home with him.

His apartment was quiet when you stepped inside, the hum of the city faint through the windows. You kicked off your shoes and stretched with a sleepy sigh, the scent of smoke from the fire pit still clinging to your clothes.

You frowned, tugging at your hoodie. “Ugh, I smell like burnt marshmallow and regret.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow as he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door. “So… the usual?”

You gave him a dramatic look. “Rude.”

He chuckled as you wandered into his room, flopping onto his bed without a second thought. You buried your face into his pillow and groaned, muffled, “All my clothes smell like smoke. Can I borrow yours?”

When you peeked up at him, you gave your best puppy-eyed look—the one he never resisted.

He sighed playfully, already walking over to his closet. “Why do you even ask when you know I’m gonna say yes?”

“Because I like the illusion of choice,” you said with a grin.

He tossed you one of his oversized shirts and a pair of soft joggers. “Here. You better give these back.”

You stood up and took the clothes with a proud little smirk. “Are you sure about that?”

He paused mid-step, turning to look at you. “Are you… not going to give them back?”

You shook your head slowly, backing toward the bed with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Why would I?”

And then—with a dramatic flourish—you threw yourself backward onto his bed, hugging his pillows to your face like you’d just found treasure.

He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched up. “You’re such a menace.”

“You love it.”

He walked over to the edge of the bed and leaned down, hands resting beside your head on the mattress. “Unfortunately,” he murmured, his voice soft, eyes warm.

You looked up at him with a sleepy smile. “You love me anyway.”

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “I do.”

You changed into his clothes, the fabric instantly comforting—warm, familiar, like being wrapped in him. His hoodie was far too big, the sleeves swallowing your hands, and the scent of him clung to every thread.

When you walked out of the bathroom, hair tied back and face washed clean, Jongho was already under the covers, the lamp casting a soft, golden glow over the room. He looked up at you with that gentle, sleepy gaze—the one he only gave you when it was just the two of you, in moments like this.

You slipped into bed beside him without a word. The second your head hit the pillow, his arm was already around you, pulling you close like you were exactly where you belonged.

You melted into him, one leg wrapping around his as you rested your face against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand slid into your hair, fingers brushing softly along your scalp.

Neither of you spoke for a while. You didn’t need to.

The world had quieted outside those walls. No teasing friends, no firelight crackle, no playful chaos—just warmth, soft breathing, and a sense of peace that couldn’t be faked.

“Comfortable?” he whispered, lips brushing against your forehead.

“Mmm,” you hummed sleepily. “You make the best pillow.”

“I try.”

You smiled against him. “Thanks for tonight.”

He kissed your temple. “Thanks for staying.”

You let out a long, content sigh as your eyelids grew heavier, your body sinking further into his hold.

“Don’t let go,” you murmured, voice trailing off.

“Never,” he whispered.

And with that, the room faded into silence—his arms wrapped around you, your breaths slowly syncing, hearts steady and full. The night wrapped itself around you both like a lullaby, gentle and safe.

And sleep came easy.

Together.

---

The next day rolled in peacefully, slow and golden. You and Jongho got up late, lounged around for a bit, shared a lazy breakfast, and eventually decided to head out for the afternoon—no real plan, just time together.

You ended up at a small local restaurant, the kind with cozy lighting and the smell of good food wafting out the door before you even stepped inside. You were excited, already scanning the menu in your head, and as you walked up to the counter to order, Jongho followed close behind.

But something felt… different.

You were halfway through telling the cashier your order when you felt him standing unusually close behind you—close-close. His chest nearly brushed your back, and you could feel the low hum of tension in the way he stood. His arms were loose at his sides, but his presence was… hovering. Protective. Watchful.

You blinked, confused for a moment, then glanced over your shoulder.

Jongho wasn’t looking at you—his eyes were fixed on something across the room, jaw slightly clenched, body stiff. His posture was straight, shoulders squared, like he was trying to make himself look bigger. Tougher.

You leaned back slightly into him, enough to get his attention without drawing the room’s.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, a little amused but mostly curious.

His eyes flicked down to you, then softened just slightly. “Yeah.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re acting like a bodyguard. What’s going on?”

He glanced toward the corner again before muttering, “Guy over there’s been looking at you since we walked in.”

You blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

Jongho nodded subtly, his tone low. “Didn’t like the way he smiled at you when we walked past. Just being careful.”

You bit back a small laugh, touched and a little flattered by his subtle burst of possessiveness. “Jongho… you’re kind of puffing your chest out right now.”

“Am not.”

“You are,” you whispered, grinning. “You look like you're trying to win a fight you haven't even been challenged to.”

He huffed softly and shrugged, but he didn’t back down. “He was looking at you like he wanted to come over. Not happening.”

You finished placing the order, thanked the cashier, and then turned fully to face him, poking his chest gently. “You’re cute when you get all bodyguard mode.”

He frowned slightly, but the way his hand slipped around your waist said more than his words. “I’m serious.”

“I know,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “And I love it. Just don’t forget you already won, okay?”

That finally earned a small smile from him. “Yeah… I know.”

He still kept a hand on you the whole time you waited for the food—just in case.

You both took your food to a quieter table in the corner of the restaurant, tucked near the window. Jongho sat across from you, unusually quiet as he picked at his food. Normally, you’d be sharing bites, making sarcastic comments about the weird decor, or teasing each other over who ordered better.

But today… something was different.

You watched him for a few moments, catching the way his eyes kept flicking to the door, then to you, then down at his plate. His body was here, but his mind? Somewhere else.

You reached across the table, gently touching his hand. “Hey,” you said softly. “What’s going on with you today?”

He looked up slowly, blinking like you’d pulled him out of a deep thought. “Huh?”

“You’ve been acting kinda off since this morning,” you said gently. “And not in a bad way. Just… distant. Like you’re stuck in your head.”

He hesitated, glanced out the window, and then sighed, resting his forearms on the table.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s you, so it’s definitely not stupid,” you said, giving his hand a soft squeeze. “Talk to me.”

Jongho was quiet for a beat, then spoke without looking at you. “I think I just… noticed a lot yesterday. At the party. The way people talk to you. Look at you. And it’s not that I don’t trust you—I do. I really do.”

You stayed quiet, letting him get it out.

“It’s just… I’m not used to feeling this way. I guess I’ve been thinking like… what if one day you realize I’m not enough? That you could have someone easier. Louder. Cooler.”

Your heart sank, but not in a heavy way—in the way that comes from seeing someone you love finally to reveal something they’ve been carrying alone.

You got up without a word and moved to his side of the booth, sliding in next to him. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look up—but when you reached for his hand again, he held onto it like a lifeline.

“Jongho,” you said softly, “I didn’t fall for you because you’re loud or flashy. I fell for the quiet, thoughtful, stubborn, protective, real parts of you. And you are so enough. More than enough.”

He finally looked at you, and you could see it in his eyes—uncertainty mixing with that deep need to believe you.

You rested your forehead gently against his. “I don’t want easier. I want you. Always have.”

His breath hitched just slightly. “Even when I get weirdly possessive in restaurants?”

You laughed softly. “Especially then.”

He let out a breath of relief, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be possessive.”

“You’re not possessive,” you whispered. “You’re just in love. And so am I.”

And for the first time that day, Jongho relaxed. Fully. Shoulders softening, tension draining, hand tightening gently around yours as if silently saying, thank you.

After lunch, you gently tugged Jongho’s hand and led him outside, not saying much—just quietly guiding him toward the small walking path near the park nearby. The air was cool but crisp, and the late afternoon sun painted everything in soft golden hues.

He didn’t resist, just walked beside you in silence, his fingers tangled loosely with yours. He hadn’t fully shaken whatever he was feeling—his quiet tension still clung to him, like he was fighting thoughts too loud for the peaceful atmosphere around you.

You let the silence stretch for a while, giving him space. Sometimes the best thing you could offer wasn’t words—it was just being there.

Still, your heart ached. You could feel how deep his fear ran. And you knew it—because you carried the same one.

You slowed your steps and finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “You know… sometimes I get scared too.”

Jongho glanced over, a little startled, like he hadn’t expected you to speak.

“Scared of what?” he asked, his tone softer now.

You kept your eyes on the path ahead. “That someone else will come along. Someone louder. Funnier. Prettier. Someone who doesn’t cry when they get overwhelmed or overthink every little thing. Someone who doesn’t wear your hoodies and ‘forget’ to return them on purpose.”

You tried to smile, but it trembled.

Jongho stopped walking, gently pulling you with him. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek as he made you look at him.

“You’re scared of me leaving?”

You nodded slowly. “I think about it more than I’d like to admit.”

He blinked, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But… you’re you. You’re everything.”

You gave a breathy laugh. “That’s exactly what I think about you.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The wind rustled through the trees around you, and the sun dipped just a little lower in the sky. But something shifted in that silence—something honest and wide open.

“I always feel like I don’t deserve you,” he said finally. “Like you’re gonna wake up one day and realize you settled.”

“And I always feel like I’m not enough,” you admitted. “That you’re gonna meet someone who doesn’t get anxious over dumb things, someone cooler, prettier… someone better.”

Jongho stepped closer, both hands holding your face now, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“You’re everything,” he whispered. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t see anyone else.”

Your voice cracked a little. “Me neither.”

He kissed you, slow and grounding—like he was pouring all the words he didn’t know how to say into that one moment.

And when he pulled away, he didn’t go far. He just wrapped his arms around you and held you, right there on the path, like he was anchoring both of you in place.

Two imperfect people. Both afraid. Completely in love.

And holding each other like they’d never let go.

“You’ve never kissed me in public like that before…” you murmured, voice small and heart still racing. Your cheeks burned instantly, that warmth spreading all the way to your ears.

Jongho looked at you, a little shy himself, but smiling.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Guess I stopped caring who sees when it’s about you.”

You blinked, stunned speechless for half a second—and then he laughed, trying to play it off before his own face turned pink.

“I wish I could do more to prove how much I love you,” he added, scratching the back of his neck. “But it’s hard being broke.”

You laughed softly, the kind that came straight from your chest, warm and full of everything you felt. “That was enough,” you said, voice sweet as honey. “More than enough.”

He glanced at you, and you swore there was a shine in his eyes he was trying to hide.

You walked back to his place hand-in-hand, the world quieter now, both of your hearts a little more settled.

Once inside, you grabbed your bag from the side of the couch, letting out a small sigh. “I need to get ready for work.”

Jongho sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with that same soft look he always saved for these moments—when things felt too good and too short.

“If you want to visit me again tonight,” you said as you slipped your shoes on, turning back toward him with a small smile, “I’d love it.”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek gently, slower this time. “I always do better when you’re around.”

Jongho nodded, his voice low. “Then I’ll be there.”

You gave him one last look—affection in your eyes, a silent promise between you—before stepping out the door, already missing him the second it clicked shut behind you.

And behind it, Jongho just sat there, hand resting where you kissed him, heart full and already counting down the hours until he saw you again.

Work wasn’t too hectic yet, which was a blessing. The evening had barely begun, and the restaurant was still in that calm before the storm—dim lights, soft music, quiet chatter from a few early diners.

Your manager waved you off with a warm smile. “It’s slow for now—go ahead and chill until we pick up.”

You nodded, grateful. “Thanks.”

You slipped behind the bar and perched on one of the staff stools tucked to the side, your apron tied loosely, hair tucked behind your ears. Your coworker, Mina, glanced at you with a knowing smirk.

“Long night?” she asked as she shook a drink behind the counter.

You smiled to yourself. “No… actually, it was perfect.”

She raised a brow, passing you a drink she threw together with a wink. “Perfect usually has a name.”

You laughed, taking a sip. “It does. And he might be visiting later.”

Your coworker grinned. “Jongho?”

You nodded, pulling out your phone and shooting him a quick message.

As your coworker Mina moved back to prep for the night rush, you leaned your elbows on the bar and stared out at the slowly filling restaurant, sipping your drink and letting your thoughts wander. You could already picture it—Jongho walking in, hoodie on, soft eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. And then that small smile of his, the one no one else really got to see.

You sat at the bar, slowly nursing your drink, phone face-up next to you in case Jongho replied. A few more customers started trickling in, the soft hum of the restaurant gradually picking up—but it was still manageable, still slow enough to breathe.

Mina passed by again, offering a playful, “Still no Jongho?”

You smiled. “Not yet. He’s probably on his way, though.”

You turned back to the entrance just in time to see a familiar face walk in—not Jongho.

It was him. That guy from the party. The one who hit on you outside the bathroom.

Your stomach dipped a little.

He didn’t seem to notice you at first, heading straight to the hostess stand. But then, as the host led him toward a table near the bar, his eyes scanned the room—and landed on you.

He stopped. Smirked.

You immediately looked away and pretended to scroll on your phone, heart beating faster—not out of fear, just discomfort.

Mina leaned in slightly, whispering, “You good?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… someone I was hoping not to see again.”

The guy casually took his seat, now just a few feet from the bar, and—of course—turned his chair slightly like he was already angling for another conversation.

And as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

"On my way there, don't fall asleep before I arrive." You read the message.

You smiled at the message—but when you glanced up, you noticed the guy was still watching you. Not in a creepy way. Just… like he was waiting to catch your attention again.

You took another sip of your drink, this time slower, more focused. You weren’t nervous. You weren’t threatened. But you were really hoping Jongho walked through that door soon.

Because some people just didn’t know when to quit.

You set your drink down with a quiet clink and slowly exhaled through your nose. The guy was still watching you—subtle, not obvious enough to call attention, but persistent. Like he thought there was still a chance you’d come over and entertain him.

You weren’t about to play that game again.

You stood from your seat behind the bar and walked out to the front casually, as if checking on something, then circled back toward his table—keeping it professional, but not shy.

His eyes lit up slightly as you approached. “Hey,” he said, that same smug smile creeping onto his face. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

You gave him a short, polite smile. “Yeah, funny how small the city is.”

“You work here?” he asked, eyebrows raising.

“I do,” you replied, voice even and calm. “Which means I’m here to take care of paying customers… not to be flirted with during my shift.”

That made him blink. “Whoa—relax, I was just being nice.”

“No,” you said, gently crossing your arms, “you were being persistent. Last night wasn’t the time, and neither is now. I’m not interested. I’m with someone. Respect that.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to argue, voice dropping into something smug.

“I promise I’m more fun,” he muttered, eyes flicking down to your legs. “Your little boy toy isn’t here to protect you.”

Before you could react, his hand slid up your thigh.

But before your body could even register the shock, the sharp slam of glass against wood cracked through the moment like thunder.

Mina.

She stood tall behind the bar, jaw tight, eyes locked on the guy with the coldest glare you’d ever seen her wear. The bottle she slammed down stood upright—but it was clear the threat wasn’t subtle.

“She is not interested,” she said, voice like steel. “Leave her alone. Or I’ll call security. And trust me, I won’t be the one to regret that.”

You didn’t say anything right away—but the small smirk on your lips said everything. You straightened your posture, eyes locking with the guy’s, letting him see exactly how done you were.

And then, before he could even respond—you felt it.

A shift in the room. A ripple of heat.

You glanced toward the door—and there he was.

Jongho.

His eyes locked instantly on the scene—on you, and the guy’s hand still on your thigh.

And that was all it took.

He stormed over in three long, heavy strides. No words. No hesitation. His hand grabbed the guy by the collar, yanking him up from his seat with a strength you didn’t see coming.

The guy stumbled back, shocked. “What the—”

Jongho’s chest puffed out, standing between you like a wall, eyes burning. “Don’t you ever touch her again.”

His voice was low, but full of fire. Calm in a terrifying way.

The guy tried to play it off, holding his hands up. “Hey, hey—I didn’t know she was—”

“You knew,” Jongho snapped. “And you didn’t care.”

The guy froze, realizing he wasn’t winning this one. Not against Jongho’s death stare. Not with half the restaurant watching. Not when Mina still had her hand on the bottle, like she wanted a reason to throw it.

Jongho stepped forward again, his voice a warning. “Leave. Before I make sure you can’t come back.”

The guy didn’t argue this time.

He turned and stormed off, muttering under his breath, disappearing out the front door in seconds.

Silence hung in the air for a beat—tense, charged, heavy.

Then Jongho turned to you.

His breathing was shaky, and his hands—though clenched moments ago—were now soft as he reached out to check on you.

“You okay?” he asked, voice tight.

You nodded slowly, heart racing. “Yeah. Thanks to you… and Mina.”

Mina gave a low whistle, finally relaxing. “Damn. That was kind of hot.”

You laughed, still breathless. “Kinda?”

Jongho didn’t smile, not yet. His hand cupped your cheek gently, thumb brushing under your eye.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

You leaned into him. “You were right on time.”

And as the tension began to melt, and Mina muttered something about needing a real drink after that, you clung to the one truth that mattered most:

Jongho didn’t just show up.

He showed up for you.

Every time.

After the guy was gone, your manager came over, told you to take a break, maybe step outside for a bit—and without hesitation, Jongho had his hand on the small of your back, gently guiding you out through the side door, away from the noise.

The evening air was cooler now, the city lights flickering just beyond the alley behind the restaurant. It was quiet back here, save for the distant hum of traffic and the thud of your own heartbeat finally beginning to slow.

Jongho leaned against the wall beside you, arms crossed, gaze downcast. His chest was still rising and falling a little faster than usual.

You stood next to him for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Then, softly, “Are you okay?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s supposed to be my question.”

You turned to him, gently nudging your shoulder against his. “Well, I’m asking first.”

He looked at you then—eyes a little glossy with all the emotion he was holding back. “I almost lost it in there.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t. You handled it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated with himself. “I walked in and saw his hand on you and… I didn’t think. I just reacted.”

“You were protecting me,” you said quietly. “It wasn’t too much. Not to me.”

His eyes searched yours, almost like he didn’t believe you at first. “I was scared.”

You blinked. “Of what?”

“That I was too late,” he admitted. “That something would happen, and I wouldn’t be there. That you’d be hurt or scared and I couldn’t stop it.”

You stepped closer, slowly, carefully, and placed your hands on either side of his face, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“I was scared too,” you whispered. “But then you were there. And suddenly I wasn’t anymore.”

His eyes closed at your touch, leaning slightly into your hands.

“You didn’t fail me, Jongho. You never do.”

He opened his eyes again, softer now. “You’re really okay?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your forehead to his chest. “I am now.”

He held you close, arms wrapping around your shoulders tightly, like if he let go, the whole world might fall apart again.

You stood there like that for a while, just holding each other under the quiet city sky. No pressure. No noise. Just the safety of his arms and the weight of everything unspoken settling between you in the most honest way.

Finally, he whispered, voice so low it was almost lost to the wind, “I love you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “I love you too. So much.”

He smiled then—small, real, and full of everything you needed.

“Let’s go home after your shift,” he said softly. “I just wanna be with you.”

“Deal,” you whispered, taking his hand again.

And together, you stepped back inside—stronger, closer, and more in love than ever.

•

A/N: I hope you enjoyed :3 (I actually decided to make an entire series of this that is in my drafts already hehehe (this is just a short version, but I might tweak some of it in the actual series)

[meadowfics]

visitor

kang sae-byeok x mother!reader

synopsis: you had a stressful day at work, and two of your favorite people stopped by to say hi

in your ears, all you can hear is the clatter of plates and conversations in the restaurant. there has been nonstop noise since your shift started five hours ago.

you’re weaving through the crowded restaurant, your job which has been unusually busy tonight.

right now you're balancing a tray of drinks in one hand while scribbling an order on your notepad with the other.

your apron is stained with a splash of soy sauce from an earlier mishap, and your feet ache in your worn sneakers. the lunch rush at the restaurant has bled into the dinner rush without a moment’s pause, and you’re running on fumes.

your throat is parched since you haven’t had a sip of water in hours, and the thought of the next three hours stretching ahead feels like a weight pressing down on your chest.

every table is full, every customer seems to need something, and the kitchen is barking orders faster than you can keep up.

you’re trying to keep your cool, but the stress is building. it is a tight knot in your stomach that threatens to unravel into tears if you let it.

you pause for a split second by the hostess stand, trying to catch your breath, but a customer waves you over, asking for extra napkins. you force a smile, nod, and promise to be right back, even though you’re not sure how you’ll manage it.

the air smells of sizzling garlic and sesame oil, and while it’s usually comforting, today it’s just another reminder of the craziness occurring.

you’re starting to dread every step, every order, every forced “how can i help you?” that you have to muster.

you love your job on good days but today is not one of those days.

today, it feels like the world is moving too fast, and you’re barely keeping up.

as you're going to grab sugar for a customer, the bell above the door chimes, a small sound almost lost in the preexisting noise.

it still catches your attention.

you glance up, half-expecting another group of customers to add to your already overflowing section. instead, your heart does a little flip.

it’s sae-byeok, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her sharp eyes softening the moment they meet yours.

she’s holding the hand of your five-year-old daughter, mi, who’s clutching a small backpack with her favorite bunny keychain dangling from it.

mi’s eyes light up when she spots you, her tiny sneakers scuffing the floor as she tugs sae-byeok forward.

you feel the knot in your stomach loosen just a fraction, like a ray of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

sae-byeok gives you a small, knowing smile, the kind that says she sees right through your tired facade.

she’s always been able to read you like that, ever since you fell in love two years ago.

back then, you were both a little broken. sae-byeok with her guarded heart, you with the weight of losing mi’s father and raising a toddler alone.

however, sae-byeok slipped into your life like she was always meant to be there. she became mi’s stepmom, not just in name but in every way that matters.

mi adores her, and you’ve watched sae-byeok soften under your daughter’s influence, her edges smoothed by mi’s giggles and endless questions.

you’ve changed too, your heart lighter because of them both.

they’re your family, your safe place, and seeing them right now feels like a lifeline.

“mommy!” mi calls, her voice cutting through the noise.

she waves enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing, and you can’t help but grin, even though your eyes are stinging from exhaustion.

you make your way over as the hostess leads them to one of your tables...a small booth near the window, thank goodness, where you can keep an eye on them.

mi scrambles into the seat, already pulling out her coloring book and crayons from her backpack.

sae-byeok slides in across from her, her movements graceful but relaxed, her leather jacket draped over the back of the booth.

she looks at you, her gaze warm but searching, like she’s checking for something in you.

“hey,” you say, your voice softer than it’s been all day, “didn’t expect you two to come in tonight.”

“mi insisted,” sae-byeok says, her lips quirking, “she said she missed your rice and chicken.”

mi nods vigorously, already scribbling a bright yellow sun on her coloring page.

“it’s the best, mommy! better than home food.”

you laugh, a real one this time, and it feels good, like a release.

“alright, kiddo, rice and chicken it is. and for you?” you turn to sae-byeok, but you already know the answer.

she’s predictable in the best way.

“bibimbap,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “you know me.”

“i do,” you say, and there’s a warmth in your chest at how familiar this is, how comforting.

you don’t even need to write down their order since you’ve got it memorized, down to the extra side of kimchi sae-byeok always asks for.

you head to the kitchen to put it in, stealing a glance back at them.

mi is chattering away, showing sae-byeok her drawing, and sae-byeok is listening intently, nodding like it’s the most important thing in the world.

it’s moments like these that make you fall for her all over again. sae-byeok's patience, her quiet love for mi, the way she’s made your little family whole and complete.

the kitchen is a whirlwind, but you manage to slip in their order, grabbing a glass of water for yourself while you’re at it.

you take a quick sip, the coolness soothing your dry throat, and for the first time in hours, you feel like you can breathe.

you check on your other tables, refilling drinks and clearing plates, but your eyes keep drifting back to sae-byeok and mi.

they’re a small island of calm in the storm of your shift, and you hold onto that feeling.

when you return to their table, mi is engrossed in her coloring, her tongue poking out slightly as she focuses on staying inside the lines.

sae-byeok looks up at you, her expression shifting to something more serious.

she leans forward slightly, her voice low so mi won’t hear.

“you okay?” she asks, her eyes scanning your face, “you look… stressed.”

you hesitate, your instinct to brush it off warring with the part of you that trusts her completely.

“it’s just been a rough shift,” you admit, keeping your voice quiet, “nonstop since i got here. haven’t had a chance to slow down.”

sae-byeok’s brow furrows, and you can see the concern in her eyes, the way she wants to fix it for you.

“three more hours, right?” she says, and you nod.

“when you get home, i’ve got you. okay? you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

sae-byeok's words are clear, but they wrap around you like a warm blanket.

you smirk, a playful edge creeping into your voice despite the exhaustion.

“oh, yeah? what’s that gonna look like?”

she raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

“you’ll see. now go get our food before mi starts eating her crayons.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head, and turn to head back to the kitchen.

their food is ready, the plates steaming and fragrant.

you carry them carefully, setting the rice and chicken in front of mi, who claps her hands in delight, and the bibimbap with extra kimchi in front of sae-byeok.

she gives you a grateful nod, her fingers brushing yours as she takes the plate, and the small touch sends a spark through you still.

“thank you, mommy!” mi says, already digging in, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

sae-byeok chuckles, stirring her bibimbap with her chopsticks, and you linger for a moment, watching them.

it’s like the restaurant fades into the background, and all you can see is your little family, happy and together.

for you, it is enough to make your heart feel full, even on a day like this.

you move through your other tables, checking on customers and running orders, but it feels different now.

lighter.

every time you pass by sae-byeok and mi, you catch a glimpse of them with mi giggling as she shows sae-byeok a new drawing, sae-byeok sneaking a piece of chicken from mi’s plate only for mi to swat her hand playfully.

it’s a reminder of what you’re working for, why you push through the long shifts and sore feet.

they’re your reason, your everything.

as the evening wears on, the restaurant starts to slow down, the dinner rush finally easing.

you steal a moment to lean against the counter, watching sae-byeok and mi from across the room.

mi is telling a story now, her hands waving animatedly, and sae-byeok is listening with that quiet intensity of hers, her eyes soft and full of love.

you think about how far you’ve come together...how sae-byeok stepped into your life out of nowhere, when you were still figuring out how to be a mom on your own.

she didn’t just fill a void; she built something new with you, something stronger.

mi changed her, softened her but she changed you too.

you’re braver because of her, more open to love, to hope.

when their plates are nearly empty, you head back over, clearing the table with a smile.

“how was it, kiddo?” you ask mi, ruffling her hair.

“so good!” she says, her mouth still half-full, “can we come back tomorrow?”

“we’ll see,” you say, laughing.

you glance at sae-byeok, who’s watching you, “you good?”

“always,” she says, her voice low, “but you’re not done yet, are you?”

you shake your head, “two more hours.”

she nods, then reaches across the table to squeeze your hand.

“we’ll be waiting for you at home. take your time, but don’t overdo it, okay?”

“okay,” you say, and you mean it.

sae-byeok's touch lingers on your skin as you head back to your other tables, and you feel a little stronger, a little more capable of making it through the rest of your shift.

sae-byeok and mi stay a little longer, mi coloring and sae-byeok sipping a cup of tea, and every time you pass by, they’re there. you love it.

when they finally get up to leave, mi runs over to hug you, her arms tight around your legs.

“love you, mommy,” she says, and your heart melts.

“love you too, baby,” you say, kneeling to kiss her forehead.

you look up at sae-byeok, who’s standing by the door, her hands in her pockets.

“see you at home?”

“see you at home,” she says, her smile soft and promising, “we’ll take care of you.”

they head out into the evening, mi’s hand tucked securely in sae-byeok’s, and you watch them go, feeling lighter than you have all day.

masterlist

[22ayla21]

I beg for more Father Jing yuan scenes and Big brother Yanqing

When the lions sleep

A rare silence descends upon the general's house, and his wife finds her three beloved ones asleep amidst the toys.

The evening in their home descended softly, enveloping everything in the warm glow of lamps and teasing with the aroma of braised rice with ginger and sesame sauce. In the kitchen, the familiar domestic symphony played: the splashing of water, the quiet rustling of a wooden spatula against a pan, the clinking of dishes in the sink, and a barely audible purr—as if the hostess wasn't singing, but breathing a melody.

The house lived its own life—not only thanks to the presence of people, but also to that special atmosphere of coziness that is born when true happiness resides within its walls. Just recently, boisterous children's laughter, the kind with a hoarse edge that makes any parent's heart skip a beat—whether from delight, a whim, or another "I want everything at once"—had echoed from the room behind the kitchen. Then came Jing Yuan's muffled voice, soothing the little girl, and Yanqing's higher, mischievous voice, who was undoubtedly impersonating someone again—most likely the poor teddy bear that had fallen into the hands of the little commander.

And then—silence.

Not a ringing silence, no. Just an unusual one. No hum, no patter of tiny feet, no measured steps of the general, no inspired story from the lieutenant about the adventures of toy animals. His wife, stirring the dinner, instinctively froze, listening. The silence had stretched for a couple of minutes already. Something pricked at her chest.

"Asleep?" she whispered to herself, wondering if her daughter had dozed off in her father's arms, and the men had decided not to disturb her sleep. But... even muffled voices weren't audible. Nor steps. Not even the light clatter of toys.

Something about this silence felt unnatural. Or perhaps, too perfect.

She wiped her hands on her apron and quietly walked down the hallway, obeying her maternal instinct—the one that senses trouble or, conversely, catches rare, precious moments. She stopped at the door to the children's room. She opened it slowly, trying not to make a sound.

And froze on the threshold.

The scene that unfolded before her eyes seemed to have stepped out of the pages of the brightest dreams, the kind that warm the soul for a long time afterward.

On the floor, on the soft carpet among the scattered toys, lay Jing Yuan. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his chest rose and fell rhythmically in sleep. On him slept their daughter—her tiny fingers clutching the collar of his tunic, and her cheek nestled comfortably against the medallion on her father's chest. The little lion peacefully dozed on the big lion, however amusing it sounded.

Nearby, as if for contrast, sat Yanqing in the lotus position, embracing a huge teddy bear. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, but a smile was frozen on his face—clearly, he had fallen asleep right in the middle of a game, lulling his sister to sleep with his stories and voice. The bear, it seemed, was also part of the sleepy ritual—a second ago an actor, and now—a pillow.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh at the tenderness that washed over her in a wave, stronger than any pain or joy. This scene exuded such warmth and perfect peace that it seemed if the whole world were to collapse right now, these three would still remain in their small, fragile paradise.

She took her smartphone out of her pocket. Took one picture. Then another. She moved a little closer, trying not to disturb their quiet. She found an angle where their calm, almost reverent faces were visible. Click. Click.

And only then did she allow herself to exhale.

"My boys..." she whispered tenderly. "And my girl. The strongest army on the Loufu."

She quietly left, deciding not to wake them. Dinner would wait. This moment was much more precious.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷 ⟡ 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; it's your first day on the job and james is your trainer . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 2.4k

⟢ warnings/tags: is profanity a tw pls lmk actually, coworker!james, coworker!marauders, accidentally wrote an anxious!reader, trying out that headcannon where remus is a bit of a hothead, only lightly grammar checking this series bc i just wanna have fun w it

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

note: here, bc i gotta chill and write something light for once. i think this will be an ongoing fic. also im not beating the mentioning tea in ever fic allegations anytime soon how does this always happen.

“Welcome in! How many in your party?”

“Oh! No, I’m Y/N. It’s my first day.” Your fingers pitter patter nervously on the host stand.

“You’re the new waitress!” the bubbly hostess exclaims, “I’m Mary! It’s so nice to meet you. Stay right there, I’ll go get the manager.”

She disappears into the busy restaurant, leaving you rocking back and forth on your heels nervously.

Mary, you repeat the name in your mind, recalling what she looked like so that you wouldn’t forget who the name belongs to. You had a thing with learning names—you just hated forgetting them. It felt so humiliating to have to ask someone to remind you of their name. One time, you worked with someone for months and their name lived on the tip of your tongue the entire time. Luckily, they quit before it ever came up.

“There she is! Ready for day one?” The manager, Nate, greeted as he followed Mary back to the host stand.

Not in the slightest. You always hated first days, with all the pressure to make a good impression. Not to mention it’s only the start to the slow climb over the learning curve. You hold out hope that everyone will be as nice as Mary seemed, it would make today a lot easier.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you say, straightening out your black shirt. The dress code for this job was essentially the color black from head to toe. You used the lack of a formal uniform to your advantage, expressing your personal style as much as you could within the confines of business casual.

Nate clapped his hand together, “Right, first up is a tour and introductions. I have all your paperwork already, right? So, after that we’ll get you in an apron and find someone for you to shadow.”

“Sounds good,” you try sounding cheery and excited, only for you to start worrying about whether or not you sound too eager.

“So, front of house is up first. You’ve already met Mary, our lovely hostess—“

Marry wiggles her fingers at you as a playful wave while she takes a phone call, “Yes, we do takeout!”

“You don’t need to worry about the host stand, but I’ll show you the book so you can get a feel for the sections and how we operate. We’ll only give you a small group of tables at first…”

You try to commit everything Nate says to memory, wanting to do well here. You really need this job. Rent isn’t cheap, especially without roommates. And you really don’t want a roommate. Plus this place pays their servers well, so you want to be good at it. You really really need to listen to Nate if you’re gonna be good at this.

But, jeez, Nate seems like he loves to talk. He’s going on and on and on and you’re fighting back a yawn when Mary swoops in like a hero, telling Nate she needs the book back to make a reservation.

“Sure, I think you’ve got the idea of it anyway, right?” Nate asks.

You blink, “Oh, yeah. Sure do!”

Shit, you think. You totally zoned out.

“Great, let me show you to the bar,” Nate says, already walking away.

Another reason why you really want to work here was for the ambiance. It’s a contemporary place with a grungy interior, all while remaining slightly upscale for restaurants in this area. Another upside was the live music. If you’re gonna be working, at least let it be somewhere nice with good music.

“Sirius! New server’s here,” Nate interrupts the bartender who’s in the process of mixing up a cocktail. You introduce yourself with a shy smile as you study him, trying to make a permanent link between his name and face in your mind.

Sirius the bartender—mischievous gray eyes and long black hair. He wears half of it tied up in the back of his head, surly to avoid having it fall in his face while he mixes drinks.

He puts the shaker down and rolls up the sleeves of his satin black dress shirt, “Hey there, doll, y’alright? Natey not being too boring for ya?”

“Alright, back to work, Sirius.” Nate says, sounding snappy.

You follow Nate to the back of the restaurant.

“This is the kitchen—“

“Who the fuck rang in scallops? We’ve been 86 scallops all fucking day.”

“Don’t look at me! Was probably James, the bloody dolt.”

“This seems like a bad time,” Nate spins on his heels and ushers you out of the kitchen quickly, “Whoever trains you will get you acclimated to the kitchen later. That’s Remus, just so you know, head chef.”

You nod, not having anything else to say as you begin to worry everyone won’t be as nice as Mary.

You want to take a moment to commit Remus’ name to memory like you had Sirius and Mary’s, but you only caught a glimpse of him. Still, you were sure you wouldn’t forget who the name belonged to now that you’ve had such a lovely first impression.

Next, Nate takes you down a hall, past the bathrooms, to show you his office and the staff area complete with a rickety table for breaks and some lockers. In the corner are two plastic bins with fading sharpie scrawled across the front of them: CLEAN and DIRTY. Nate reaches into the “clean” bin and picks out a slate gray apron.

He hands it to you, and you try to tie it the way the server in the kitchen had it. Nate starts leading you back out into the dining room as you continue to fiddle with the ties.

As you dart around the restaurant, the “fast-paced environment” detail from the job listing is really starting to materialize, and this was only the tour.

“Right, now where are my bloody servers.” Nate mutters under his breath, “Slacking off by the host stand, of course.”

There’s two servers at the host stand: a girl with red hair hanging in two braids on either side of her face and a tall boy with glasses. They’re huddled with Mary, looking like they’re sharing hot gossip.

You and Nate make it to the host stand at the same time as the other server from the kitchen.

“Hey, team!” Nate says, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Chef’s fuckin’ pissed at you,” she says to Glasses.

“What I do!?” He asks, whipping his body out of the huddle. Mary and the red-haired girl keep talking without him.

“Thinks you rang in some scallops,” she shrugs, blowing a strand of blonde hair out of her face.

“Why would I do that? We’re 86.”

“Yeah, but I forgot,” she says nonchalantly, leaning her back against the host stand.

“And you let him think it was me!?”

“Oh yeah, obviously. Anyway, I should probably go tell my table they’re not getting their scallops.”

“Servers!” Nate interrupts loudly, finally making your four new coworkers quiet down. You feel all eyes suddenly train on you. You smile through the uncomfortable sensation of your stomach lurching.

“We have a new member joining our team today. Please give a warm welcome to Y/N.”

“Hi,” you flash a smile to the new faces in front of you.

“Welcome!” The red-haired girl returns a bright smile of her own, “I’m Lily, I love your earrings.”

“Marlene,” the blonde says plainly.

And finally—

“Hiya, Love. I’m James,” the one with glasses says coolly as he rests an elbow on the host stand. He exudes confidence, and it makes you want to shrink into yourself.

You try to study the three of them to commit names to faces.

Lily—fiery red hair, kind eyes, and a fair complexion with a sprinkling of freckles.

Marlene—you like the way her blonde hair is cut into a shag. She also kind of intimidates you, so you really want to remember her name.

James—glasses, tousled dark hair, very attractive. That last part probably wasn’t a necessary attribute to help you remember his name, but it was true. He has a tall, toned frame that would’ve made him seem intimidating if not for the way his eyes transformed into the physical embodiment of sunshine when he smiled. Were your hands getting sweaty?

“Alright, great. Introductions are done, now I need someone to be a trainer.” Nate claps his hands together, waiting for a volunteer.

“I have to go give a table bad news, so-”

Nate cuts Marlene off before she can hastily run away, “Wasn’t gonna ask you anyway.”

James is eyeing you, sizing you up it seems, when he pipes up, “I’ll do it.”

Marlene snorts. “Weren’t you saying an hour ago that Nate better not dump the-”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Marls,” James says through clenched teeth, glaring sideways at her.

You felt like quitting on the spot, thinking that you were obviously a burden on these people. Being a burden to James, specifically, felt particularly embarrassing. It had your face heating up.

“Great! Thanks James,” Nate says, “Y/N, you’re in good hands. I’ll be in the office if you need anything. The rest of you, get back to work!”

With a reluctant groan from Marlene and a “nice to meet you” from Lily, the small crowd disperses. All except for you and James.

“I’m sorry you got saddled with training me.”

“Aw man, no! Marlene was just-” James cuts himself off with a sigh, “Fine, I didn’t think I’d want to train today. But I changed my mind, so don’t feel like you’re a burden or something, alright?”

James seems pretty genuine, so you digress. Not without a joke first, though.

“Just remember you asked for it later when you get tired of me.”

“I have a feeling that’s not gonna happen,” James says, a certain playfulness dancing in his eyes.

As a new party walks into the restaurant, James leads you toward a nearby order station so that you’ll be out of the way.

“So, you’re gonna wanna forget everything Nate told you,” he says as you walk, “I’m gonna show you how we actually run this place.” He shoots a boyish smirk over his shoulder.

“That shouldn’t be very hard, I don’t think I was awake for any of it,” you admit with a chuckle.

“Ooh, I’m gonna like you!” James swings his body around when you reach the order station, “We love Nate slander here. Behind his back of course.”

“That’s worrisome,” you say, trying to find a comfortable way to lean against the terminal. You end up just standing up straight, “He seemed kind of nice.”

“You ever work in a restaurant before?” James leans toward you, looking coy, and you do your best not to shrink away from him.

“Yeah, I was a hostess.”

“You ever been friends with any of your old managers?”

You think about it for a minute, “No.”

“Exactly,” James leans back and you feel your shoulders relax at once. “He’s alright, but he’s still the boss. Plus, it’s good for server morale to have a common enemy.”

James earns a laugh from you, and he smiles brightly as if it’s the biggest honor.

“So, when do you get off?”

“I’m closing, I think.”

“Nate has you closing on your first shift? Diiiiick move.”

“He asked first and I told him I could handle it.”

“He shouldn’t have asked.” James insists, then he waves it off as if deciding what’s done is done, “That’s alright, you’ll be able to stick with me. But in light of that, I’ll make today easy for you. You can watch while I take orders, and I’ll show you how I ring them all in here,” James pats the POS terminal, “And you can help me get bread and refills out to tables mostly. I won’t make you take orders today ‘coz it’s a bit rowdy in here, but maybe if we’re sat with an easy table we’ll see how you’re feeling.”

You nod along, not having anything to say, not that you had the chance. James is a fast talker and you’re beginning to notice how full of energy he is. It’s a tad amusing, and it’s beginning to show on your face.

“What?” James asks, eyes flicking down to your growing smile.

With a slight shake of your head, you say, “You a big coffee drinker?”

“Y’know, I get that a lot,” James reaches into the underside of the order station, and pulls out a canned beverage, “But I’m partial to these.”

Your face scrunches up as James takes a sip of what you like to call battery acid in a can.

James makes a big show of acting refreshed, emitting a long sigh when the can leaves his lips, “Not your cup of tea, I take it?” James raises an eyebrow.

“My cup of tea would be actual tea. Or coffee-“

“Coffee’s any better?”

“A million times, yes.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You can’t be serious.”

James’ eyes light up like you’ve just handed him a prize, “You’re right, that’s the bartender. ‘Ave you met him?”

It takes you a moment to register what he means, and then you’re rolling your eyes, “Oh, I’m gonna hear that joke a lot from you aren’t I?”

“You’re gonna hear that joke all day from everyone, Love, it’s a house favorite.”

As you’re about to quip back, Lily squeezes between you two to ring in some food.

“James, enough flirting. Some of your tables are starting to look pissed,” she says, tapping on the screen quickly to get the order in.

“I’m not flirting,” James protests, but the wink he shoots you begs to differ.

Lily takes a break from noting modifications for a sandwich order to look at you, “James is always flirting, you’ll learn to ignore him.”

James is looking at you over her shoulder, shaking his head and swirling his index finger by the side of hers, mouthing “she’s crazy.”

As Lily resumes removing tomatoes from the order, she catches James in the act and swats his hand away, “Seriously, James, they’re starting to flag me down because they haven’t seen you in ages.”

James clutches his hand close to his chest. His eyes flit between you and Lily, a mock-horrified look on his face that communicates “see, I told you she’s crazy!”

“Who?” he asks.

“Your tables, you dunce,” Lily hisses, but there are notes of humor in her voice.

James bares his teeth as grimaces and checks his wrist for a watch that doesn’t exist, “Bollocks, look at the time. Come Y/N, I’ll show you how to turn an angry table into a happy one.”

You have to stifle a laugh as you follow James to his tables, mentally adding him to the list of reasons why you really want to work here.

[charliegyrth]

Two Fat Guys on a Blind Date

A Gainer Romance

I caught a glimpse of myself in the restaurant window. My reflection always surprised me. I knew I was fat, but I always forgot exactly how fat until I saw myself.

My gut hung far over my waistband. My slab of neck fat propped up my chubby face and obscured my collar. My arm pudge puffed out of my short sleeves, and my thighs strained against my size-50 jeans.

I looked amazing. Exactly how I wanted. I just hoped that Mac, my blind date, felt the same. Johnny (my old friend, Mac’s coworker) had said we had a lot in common, implying without straight-up admitting that he was fat, too. I trusted Johnny, but I still felt a little nervous. It had been two months and twenty-six pounds since my last date, and I didn’t want to be disappointed.

I opened the door to Lascari’s and looked around for my date. I hadn’t seen a photo of Mac, but Johnny said, “You’ll know him when you see him.”

And he was right. My eyes instantly fell onto the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He was sitting at the corner table, reading through the menu. His face was merely chubby (my chin dwarfed his), but his body was enormous. He outweighed me by well over 100 pounds. The table obscured most of him, but his sloping shoulders and hanging moobs were on full display.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asked.

“I’m meeting someone,” I mumbled and walked across the restaurant like I was drawn by a magnet. I honestly couldn’t tell you if anyone else was in the restaurant. Probably. It was probably packed. But my brain didn’t register anyone other than Mac.

He saw me over his menu, then got to his feet. At least, he tried to. He fell back down, his body wobbling, and tried again, slower this time. With an adorable grunt, he was able to get on his feet, then waddled sideways to make it past the table.

“Jason!” he shouted, spreading his arms wide. He seemed so happy to see me.

I bit my tongue. He was even fatter than I’d realized. His dress shirt was half-untucked. He had one of those apron bellies that was divided into two slabs, dipping up in the middle. The exposed patch of belly was dimpled beautifully.

“And you’re Mac!” I said. “So nice to meet you.”

Something flickered across his face. Disappointment, maybe. For such a big guy, I had a surprisingly high voice. Some guys aren’t into that.

He quickly recovered, though. Maybe I’d just imagined it. He gestured for me to sit.

I did. Mac sat back down across from me, his bigger size forcing him to take his time. “You’re very handsome.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m… nothing compared to you, though.”

He patted the top of his gut, creating waves. “You’ll get there.”

A comfortable silence spread between us. We both wanted to speak, but neither of us knew how to start. I didn’t want to sound like a fangirl, so I stopped myself from asking all the questions that were bubbling inside me:

“What’s your secret?”

“Tell me everything you eat.”

“How do you deal with mobility issues?”

“What lotions do you use for thigh rub?”

This was a date, not an interview. I decided to be general: “So tell me about yourself.”

He smiled. “What do you know about me?”

“Nothing. Just that my friend Johnny thought I’d like you. And so far, he was right.”

“Well, I grew up in Kingman, but my grandparents live here, so I always came over during the summers. After college, I went back to Kingman, where I’ve lived until last month, when I moved here. And you?”

“Lived here all my life.”

He started to ask me a question, but the waiter came for our orders.

“I haven’t looked at the menu yet,” I said.

Mac reached across the table and put his hand on mine. “Do you trust me? I’m sort of an expert eater.”

My heart fluttered. I gave him a definitive nod.

Mac showed the menu to the waiter and pointed to everything he was ordering for us. “This one. And this. And three of these.” He was careful not to show me what he’d chosen.

The waiter kept a straight face as he wrote it all down. He filled two pages of his notepad. “Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The waiter scurried off and Mac turned back toward me. His fake-innocent smile told me that he’d ordered a ridiculous amount of food. He wanted to see what I could do.

“So what do you do?” I asked. Blind date small talk.

“Marketing,” he said. “Kind of boring. I work almost completely from home, but the office is here in town. Hence the move.”

“And you like Bullhead so far?”

“I’m starting to.” That was a very flirtatious answer.

I blushed. “Well, I’m in IT. Equally boring. Don’t work from home yet, but I’m hoping that once I pass 400, my bosses will let me. Fingers crossed.”

“It’s so nice to talk with someone who’s so comfortable being on the Gain Train. We’re a rare breed.”

Yup. And he was a purebred. I wanted so badly to ask him how much he weighed, but I didn’t want to ruin things. I wanted to know him as a person instead of just a sexual object. But since he brought up the G-word…

“When did you decide that this was what you wanted?”

“Just before junior year of high school.”

“Me too!” I said, a bit too excitedly.

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story. Because of my mannerisms and stuff, everyone thought I was gay. But I was pretty sure I was asexual. Nothing really did it for me. Then this new kid came to town. Peter McDowell. Exactly my age. Everyone thought he was gorgeous. I heard my sisters gushing about him. Nina, my oldest sister, said, ‘It’s such a shame he’s gay, though.’ That kind of sparked my interest. I thought, if I was gay, then surely the hottest guy in town would ignite something in me. If not, then I’d know that I wasn’t gay.”

The waiter had given us two milkshakes each. Our food wasn’t ready yet, but Mac must’ve ordered them as a calorie-rich pre-meal. I was learning from him already!

He sipped and listened.

“Anyway, I sort of asked around about Peter, trying to figure out a way to casually run into him without looking like a stalker. No luck. Then, by random chance, I saw him walking through the park. I knew it was him because he was objectively gorgeous, but as I expected, he did nothing for me.”

“Describe him.”

“Blond hair, a little lighter than yours. Tall. Chiseled jaw. Sort of Brad Pitt vibes.”

He slurped up the last of his first milkshake. It had disappeared in half a minute.

I took a break from my story to drink a bit, too. I didn’t want to lag behind.

“So I walked right over to him and introduced myself. I’m normally terrible about meeting new people, but for some reason, I guess because I was so desperate to figure myself out, I wasn’t nervous at all. He was a bit cold at first, but I pushed past that. We talked for a bit, though I don’t remember what we said, and pretty soon we were walking together around the park. Time flew by, and even though I wasn’t... turned on, I saw that he could be a friend.”

I slurped up some more milkshake. I finished about a third, while Mac was almost done with his second glass.

“Eventually, we made it to an ice cream stand and Peter offered to get me something. I really wasn’t in the mood for ice cream. I ate very little back then.” (We both laughed.) “He got us vanilla ice creams and almost immediately spilled his entire scoop onto his shirt. He pulled up his shirt to lick away the stain, and that’s when I saw it. This perfect hunk had a cute little belly. It looked so unnatural on his athletic frame, as if someone had smacked a glob of mashed potatoes onto a Ken doll. And for the very first time, I felt something. I think it was the contrast, a gorgeous boy with a tiny bit of chub. It wasn’t big enough to see through his shirt, but with his stomach exposed, it was on full display. I guess I looked like a cartoon wolf or something. You know, with my eyes bulging out. Because he asked me what was wrong.”

Mac leaned closer. “And what did you say?”

“I honestly don’t remember. I just babbled something about his belly. He must’ve been pretty creeped out, because he said goodbye and ran off. That was the last time I ever saw him. I know it sounds like such a minor thing, but it changed my life forever. It made me realize how beautiful fat could be. I finally knew what turned me on. I’ve only dated fat guys ever since, and I became a fat guy two years later. It’s amazing how such a little thing can change your life forever.”

“Totally agree,” he said. “Did you ever try to track down Peter?”

“Many times. No luck. It was like he never existed, just an image in my head.” I glanced over at our waiter. He was assembling the first round of plates on a tray. “Food’s almost here.”

Mac dug through his pocket. He had some trouble reaching in, but eventually he pulled out his wallet. “Wanna see what I looked like a hundred pounds ago?”

“Uh, sure.”

He slid his wallet across the table.

I looked at his driver’s license photo. Because his face wasn’t as fat as the rest of him, the photo didn’t seem all that different from what he looked like now. But I did get to see his weight: 420 pounds. If this was a hundred pounds ago, then that meant…

“You’re over 500?” I asked, completely mesmerized.

“Uh huh. But look closer. Notice anything else?”

I stared hard at the picture. Nope. Just the same gorgeous, chubby face.

Then I noticed the name written across the top. I gasped. “You’re Peter McDowell?”

Before he could answer, the waiter started loading our table with food. As expected, it was an absolute feast. A dozen different pastas (especially the buttery ones). Two platters of lasagna. Several side dishes I didn’t know the name for. I’d had my fair share of restaurant gorge sessions, but this was beyond ambitious.

Neither of us started eating.

“I thought you knew,” Mac said. “When Johnny told me that Jason Robbins was up for a blind date, I thought you remembered who I was.”

“I do! I just didn’t connect the dots.”

“Can I tell you when I decided to be a gainer?”

I nodded.

“It was when I met you. Growing up, I was always the hottest guy in town. Everybody went crazy for me, but I hated the way I looked. And I didn’t know why. I tried dating, but it never worked out. Then I spent the summer at my grandparents’ house right down the street from that park. They fed me constantly, and for the first time, I grew a tiny little belly. No one noticed, until I met you. And your reaction lit a fire in me. I’ve thought about what you said ever since.”

“And what did I say?”

That one moment had changed both our lives forever, and I didn’t even remember what I told him.

“‘I like your belly.’ That’s it. But that was all I needed. I ran back to my grandparents’ house and started stuffing myself with food. I tried to find you again, but summer went by so fast. And then I had to leave.”

“And now we’ve finally found each other,” I mumbled.

He gestured toward the massive spread of food in front of us. “You ready?”

“I’ve waited fifteen years for this moment.”

We both took our first bites. Two hours later, every scrap of food was gone.

We’ve been together ever since.

The End.

Thanks for reading! You can find all my stories here.

And if you want to read the backstory for how Mac grew to over 500 pounds, check out my prequel story The Hottest Guy in Town.

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 1

Summary:

Several years after escaping FBI custody, Cooper Adams has quietly settled in a remote Vermont town. He's a monster in remission--his violent urges lay dormant.

But when he catches sight of Alice, a traumatized 18-year-old girl, a new form of predatory darkness overtakes his demented mind. Young and achingly vulnerable, she's a lost soul as alone in the world as he is.

Alice needs the care of a proper Daddy, and as soon as she stops resisting, Cooper knows she'll accept the special kind of love he's been saving for a special little girl like her...

Ch. 1: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

As far as Alice could tell, it would be yet another ordinary night in a long sequence of ordinary nights at the Sugar Maple Diner. 

Though it wasn’t as if she entirely minded. There was a strong part of her that actually took comfort in the familiarity of it all, the mundane routine of her small, simple world, regardless of the fact that it was rather dull most days. 

Dull meant safe—and safe was a good thing, especially for someone like her. 

Alice absently rotated her sore neck and shoulders as she made her way into the cozy, 50s-nostalgic restaurant, offering a friendly wave to the owner, Mr. Andrews, one of the only people in town who still bothered to interact with her. Not only had he given her a job when everyone else had refused to hire her, but he and his wife had even opened their home to Alice on occasion for a glass of lemonade, or tea and cookies, or a holiday meal. 

Alice rarely accepted these invitations from the elderly couple, always fearful she’d inadvertently exhaust the goodwill they generously harbored for her. But she appreciated their kindness, an increasing rarity for Alice, so she was always happy to volunteer whenever they needed help with little projects around their house to express her gratitude in return. 

Alice idled near the jukebox just beyond the hostess stand to see if Mr. Andrews would return her greeting, but he was busy behind the bar serving beer to a group of chatty truckers, and clearly didn’t have much spare time to say hello. 

Shaking off the brief, sharp pang of loneliness, the aching desire for someone—anyone—to talk to her, Alice headed straight for the break room to change into her uniform—an old fashioned pale pink dress with a white apron. She secured her hair in a high ponytail, and exactly five minutes before six p.m., she returned to the main dining room for her shift, forcing a smile on her face. 

The hours elapsed in the same, slow fashion they always did. The dinner rush—if merely five parties of no more than four people across three hours could be called that—consisted of the same group of Tuesday night regulars Alice had been waiting on for nearly a year now. Alice no longer bothered with trying to introduce herself, much less engage in small talk with her tables, for the town locals had long made it very clear ever since her return that they had no interest in speaking with her. So instead, Alice remained small and silent as she scribbled orders on her notepad, taking up as little space as possible as she refilled drinks, cleaned up spills, and delivered steaming plates of comfort food from the kitchen.

And she did all of this with her head perpetually lowered, so that no one would have to suffer the unnecessary discomfort of looking at her. 

By ten o’clock, the restaurant was deserted, and the only other employee remaining was Ted, the largely wordless cook who kept to himself even more strictly than Alice did. Alice generally took her own meal break around this time when it was just the two of them twiddling their thumbs until closing, silence broken only by the rockabilly and Doo-wop melodies sung by the jukebox. But before she could write down her request for a cup of soup and a half-sandwich, losing herself for a few moments to the croons of Elvis Presley—wring my faithful heart; tear it all apart; but love me—the door chime cheerfully rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. 

Alice gulped at the intimidating sight of the new arrival, and he was definitely new—she surely would have noticed him around the tiny town before now if he were a local. He was almost as broad as he was tall—and he was frighteningly tall—with the build of an elite athlete, like a champion MMA fighter, his long limbs hard and big and savage. The charcoal sweater and dark jeans he wore actually seemed to struggle to keep his toned muscles contained. 

He had thick, silky hair the color of dark roast coffee, and a closely-shorn mustache and short, angular beard. He was a very handsome man, perhaps in his early-to-mid forties, but when Alice finally met his eyes, she was instantly rendered breathless by a powerful, inexplicable sense of sheer terror that seemed to seize her by the throat, and choke her. 

Shadowed by a prominent brow bone, his inky, hooded eyes were disturbingly dark. Chilling. They reminded Alice of the eyes of a shark. Fathomless. Cold. 

Predatory. 

“Hey there…can I get a table?” 

Unlike his frightening eyes, the velvety timber of the man’s deep voice actually inspired an equally strong sense of comfort—relief—causing the paranoid internal alarms within her body to faintly recede. 

Alice was rendered profoundly unbalanced, nearly on the verge of collapsing to the floor from the whiplash of such opposing instincts.

Perplexed by her body’s strange reactions to the stranger, Alice quickly nodded and dutifully lowered her head. She reached for a menu and silently beckoned the man to follow her, her shoulders arched nearly all the way to her ears as she timidly guided him to her favorite booth by the windows with the prettiest view of the forest.

He followed her with slow, heavy foot falls, and Alice nearly caved in on herself when she was directly confronted with just how much bigger he was up close as he slid into the booth with athletic, equanimous movements. 

Even sitting down, he was huge. 

Alice placed the menu on the table once he appeared settled, and reached into her apron pocket for her notepad and pen, waiting expectantly for him to provide his drink order, as all other customers automatically did upon sitting. 

But when he didn’t speak after several moments, Alice shyly raised her head, and was surprised to find the man gently smiling at her. 

He looked even more handsome when he smiled—

“There you are,” he said warmly, his voice triggering a sudden influx of delightful tingles throughout her weary muscles. “How are you doing tonight?”

Too stunned to speak, Alice felt hot blush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

How long had it been since someone had asked her how she was? 

Seemingly sensing her unease, the man continued, “Sorry—you probably don’t want to talk with an old man like me,” he said ruefully, and Alice was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. This handsome stranger was being more sociable with her than anyone had in months, and she was messing everything up. “Would it be possible to order—”

“I’m A-Alice,” she interrupted shakily—awkwardly—cheeks boiling at the mousy sound of her own voice. 

To her relief, the man’s smile only widened, and there was a flicker of playfulness in his eyes, somewhat tempering the otherwise unnerving quality in his dark gaze. 

“That’s a very pretty name,” he replied. “I’m Cooper.”

Cooper. Alice repeated the name in her head. It sounded strong and masculine.

She quite liked it. 

“Put us together and we’re rock stars,” he added. Alice frowned in confusion. “I…I don’t follow—”

“Alice Cooper?” Alice shook her head, and Cooper released a slow sigh. “Ahh…don’t mind me—I’m betraying my age here. He’s before your time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alice swallowed hard. “Umm…w-welcome to the S-Sugar Maple Diner,” she offered, remembering she needed to do her job. It had been so long since she’d been required to introduce herself to a customer that Alice was quickly finding she was woefully out of practice with the basics. “M-may I get you something to drink, sir?” 

“Well I was taking a look at what you have on tap, but I notice you don’t have a bartender right now,” Cooper mentioned. “And I suspect you’re not quite old enough to legally go behind the bar.”

“Yeah…the bar closes at nine on weekdays. Mr. Andrews—he’s the owner—he already left for the night, and he usually handles that stuff.” Embarrassed, Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Call me Cooper.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Eighteen—but I’ll be nineteen next month.”

She wasn’t sure why she shared that detail. It certainly wasn’t as if her upcoming birthday made her seem any less young and pathetic. 

“Ahh…definitely too young to pour alcohol.” Cooper softly chuckled, his deep-chested rumble pleasantly tickling her ears. “In that case, how about a nice cold glass of Coke?”

“Would you prefer a frosted glass or ice?”

“Ice, please.”

Alice wrote down the order with a nod. “Coke with ice, coming right up.”

She began to turn on her toes to prepare his soda, but then he spoke again.

“So what do you recommend here?” Cooper asked. 

“Recommend?” Alice repeated slowly. “You mean…to eat?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice realized what a stupid response it truly was.

The townsfolk’s collective avoidance of her was clearly not entirely to blame for her poor conversation skills. 

Of course he was asking her what to eat. She was a waitress. It was her job.

Mercifully, Cooper didn’t poke fun at her idiocy. “Yeah, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he asked. “If you were to join me for a meal, what would you order?”

Alice squeaked, “You want me to join you?” 

Cooper’s eyes widened, and he appeared even more shocked than she was. “Well, I was speaking hypothetically, but…sure! Why not. Care to join me?”

Alice thought she might actually pass out from embarrassment. 

Not only had she forgotten how to have a normal conversation, but she’d forgotten all about basic social cues. Sarcasm. Hypotheticals. 

Cooper was being friendly. Nothing more. He didn’t actually want to spend time with her—he just had good manners. 

“Umm…I’m really not supposed to…” Alice trailed off, nervously biting her lip. 

Unperturbed, Cooper shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Perhaps some other time then.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial murmur, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” 

There was an undeniably patronizing quality to his warm baritone, but it wasn’t condescending in a negative way. The lilting way Cooper spoke was gentle, daresay caring, the low pitch of his manly deepness perfectly matched with a bright, uplifting enthusiasm.

Cooper spoke to her the way Alice remembered her own father used to speak to her—as if no one else in the world existed. As if she were important.

As if every word she spoke were the most brilliant thing ever to be uttered in history of the world, and he couldn’t get enough. 

Cooper had a…Dad voice, the kind of voice that felt like a warm, clean blanket fresh out of the dryer. 

He had a voice of absolute safety—a voice that made her feel brave. 

Like she could do anything. 

“I recommend the deluxe cheeseburger with fries,” Alice said, unable to contain her giddy smile. “Ted makes the best in town.”

Cooper kept a careful gaze on Alice through his peripherals as he chewed and swallowed the mediocre cheeseburger, though he made sure to provide plenty of appreciative grunts and moans throughout his labored consumption for the girl’s benefit. 

He’d been patiently watching her for nearly a year now. It wouldn’t do well to worry the skittish thing when he was so close to finally making her his, for little Alice was a painfully insecure, highly sensitive girl. She was pitifully naïve and defenseless, lonely and desperate for affection.

She was perfect—and finally ripe for his taking. 

When he’d originally made the decision to settle down in the middle of fucking nowhere, Vermont after several years on the run, he’d simply planned on living quietly for whatever remained of his existence. The monster within lay dormant—at least for now—the compulsion to destroy and dissect no longer eroding what little remained of his sanity. The urge had been a sickness, a magmatic fever, burning so hot in his veins it was boiling him alive. Cooper knew quite well it would have killed him eventually. 

But now, his insides were…cooler, warm instead of blisteringly hot, and the dark, animalistic impulses currently thrumming through his body were far less bloodthirsty in nature compared to his prior proclivities. 

Perhaps he was in remission. 

He’d spent more than forty years keeping the two opposing halves of his psyche strictly separate, diligently compartmentalizing every aspect of his life down to the most minute detail, but when he’d caught sight of this tiny angel of a girl almost ten months ago—so sweet and innocent and frightened and alone—Cooper was leveled, and struck with an epiphanic clarity.

Perhaps the separatist approach to mitigating his dangerous urges no longer served him. 

Perhaps the only way for him to survive was by reconciling his infernal hungers, once and for all. 

When Cooper had escaped FBI custody—doubling his body count in the process—he’d been forced to accept that the closest thing to real human connection he’d ever been able access, his family, was lost to him forever. He missed being a husband. He missed being a father. 

But when he saw Alice, he realized he could still be both.

She was as alone in the world as he was, an isolated little girl shunned by nearly everyone around her. At merely eighteen, she was young and exceedingly vulnerable, in dire need of a loving authority figure to guide her and keep her safe. 

And yet, she was also a woman. Barely legal, but a woman nonetheless, and a mouthwatering one at that. Alice was a tiny thing, shorter even than Riley was when he last saw her, her petite body a tight little package of soft, untouched femininity he was growing more and more ravenous to taste.  

Cooper had always been partial to blondes, and his little Alice was a natural platinum. A “baby” blonde. 

Sweet little baby blonde with her pretty baby blue eyes—

With her milky skin and delicate features—not to mention those pouty pink lips just begging to have something hard shoved between them—Alice could look like a porcelain doll one moment, and a sex kitten the next. She was an undeniably gorgeous girl, not yet aware of her erotic allure, and under different circumstances, he knew she could have had any man on his knees begging to fuck her.

Fortunately for him, the entire town thought she was batshit crazy.

And Cooper was certainly not one to be put off by a little madness—

“How’s your dinner?” Alice asked sweetly from a few tables away. She’d been refilling ketchup bottles and rolling silverware for the last twenty minutes or so, responding beautifully—albeit awkwardly—to his subtle prompts for casual conversation.

Cooper wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated show of patting his stomach. “You were right—this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” he lied smoothly. “Excellent recommendation, sweetheart.”

The girl’s cheeks instantly flooded with pretty pink blush—she likes being called sweetheart—and she shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t resist looking back at him mere seconds later with a demure giggle.   

Good girl. She found him attractive. 

His depraved plans would be much easier for her to adapt to with her sexual attraction already engaged—

“Can I get you anything else, Cooper?” Alice asked. She sounded hopeful. 

His left eye twitched at her use of his first name, one of the few…ticks beyond his control, as a small spark of violent rage kindled deep in his gut, leaving a sickly metallic taste in his mouth. 

The urge. 

Cooper was suddenly overcome with a vision—a lucid hallucination, really—of marching directly to where the girl stood, and shoving her to the floor so quickly the air would be knocked out of her lungs. He saw himself tearing off her clothes and wrapping his big hands around narrow torso, and squeezing, hard enough to crack her ribs, before mounting her like a beast in the wild, ready to take his quivering bitch in heat. He wanted to feel her small, supple body struggling beneath him, his scared, mewling kitten desperate to free herself by any means necessary.

He wanted her to scream. He wanted her to cry.

She was so fucking tiny he’d absolutely crush her with his size. Cooper was already far bigger than most people, but compared to his little girl, his sweet little nymph, he was indestructible, as vast and powerful as a god. 

He could do anything he wanted to her. He could violate her beyond recognition.

He could fuck her within an inch of her life—

Realizing he’d zoned out far longer than intended, he released a sharp exhale to snuff out the ember of fury, reminding himself that it was perfectly okay that the girl was calling him Cooper—for now. 

She’d be calling him Daddy soon enough. 

He forced himself to smile, carefully schooling his features to the affable façade he used specifically for putting people at ease. 

Like clockwork, the girl visibly relaxed. 

“Just the check please, sweetheart.”

Hunted Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream Of Me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229851/chapters/148279471