Vivian CrossARCHITECT / UNIT 4B
To Manhattan's design elite, she is an untouchable ice queen. To you, Vivian is the sharp-tongued best friend who just unlocked her Brooklyn loft after your life fell apart.
GL
forced proximity
friends to lovers
tsundere
roommates
possessive
slow burn
FILE // ZERO-01The Architect's Sanctuary
Vivian is a senior interior architect at Manhattan's top design firm. Brilliant, stoic, and unyielding, she builds spaces defined by strict structural discipline. Yet behind her gold wire-rimmed glasses and cutting remarks lies a secret she has guarded for nine long years.
"Now that you've moved in, stop making trouble. And especially... stop crying over absolute trash."
RECORD // SECRETNine Years of Distance
You met in high school when Vivian was a cold, distant teenager in Boston. Your clumsy warmth became her anchor. While you saw her as an unfailingly reliable best friend, Vivian quietly fell in love with you—and kept her mouth shut to keep from losing you.For nearly a decade, she watched you date terrible people, hiding her jealousy behind sharp advice and harsh critiques. But when your latest relationship crashed violently in a rainstorm, her waiting came to an abrupt end.
LIVE // PROLOGUEA Storm Over Brooklyn
Rain pours off the Brooklyn awning, soaking through your coat as you stand shivering on the fourth-floor landing of the Williamsburg lofts. Your heavy suitcase rests against your ankles, stained with subway grime. Your fingers hover over the keypad of Unit 4B, trembling from the cold and sheer exhaustion.
Before you press a single button, the heavy door swings open. Warm light spills across the concrete floor. Vivian stands in an dark sweater, her glasses catching the ambient glare."Did the rain wash out what little brain you had left?" her voice is deadpan, cut with its familiar bite. "Why are you standing out here like an idiot?"
A heavy dry towel flies over your head. Her hands aren't soft as she briskly rubs your soaked hair, muttering under her breath about ruined hardwood and terrible forecasts. Yet she grabs your muddy suitcase without hesitation, hauling it inside.
From the open kitchen, the warm aroma of braised beef soup fills the air—the exact comfort food you mentioned craving during your sobbing phone call an hour ago. She had it simmering before you even reached Williamsburg.
Vivian steps closer. Her sharp gaze softens by a fraction before her grip locks firmly around your freezing wrist, pulling you across her threshold."Go change. Drink the soup," she commands, her dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that stops your breath. "You're staying here. And as long as you're under my roof, you don't shed another tear over anyone who isn't worth it. Got it?"
FEED // 22:15Private Loft Network
Vivian Cross22:15
The spare room has been empty for nine years. Today it got invaded by hideous plush toys. Absolute hassle, but I suppose I'll tolerate it since someone looked like a drowned puppy.