#I thought I posted this like a week ago oops

[catacropolis]

Random character boxes

[moopermoment]

i take jetkie very seriously

[tokyomiracle]

✨Click here to start reading!✨

[fusefr]

mict was on the front page and it had an Effect on the likes count

xochi would be so pissed off lmfao those four people have to die now tragic

[futureman]

keep it on the low

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: just because you and joel broke up doesn't mean you can't still (secretly) enjoy each other's company

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, hurt/angst, ex!joel, possessive!joel, pwp, smut, post-breakup sex, rough sex, mild exhibitionism

word count: 3k

a/n: all i can say is oops. blame sza, i guess. and of course, couch gif for obvious reasons. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

Joel’s being obvious again. Discretion’s never been his strong suit, but he’s especially attuned to you today, and not in a good way. He’s not undressing you with his eyes, itching for the moment he can take you home like he usually is.

Nope, he just looks irritated as fuck. Way too angry for someone who just happens to be sitting in the same room as his ex. If he keeps this up, you’re going to get caught, and then what are you going to do? Fuck other people?

Like that’ll ever happen. You and Joel broke up almost three months ago and yet here you are, still hooking up like there’s no one else in this town to have sex with. But you have an agreement…sort of. You keep sleeping together, you don’t talk about it, and you definitely don’t tell anyone else. It’s high school-level dramatic and, honestly, you’re both way too old for this shit.

You know everyone’s gossiping about you behind your back, trying to figure out why you’re not together anymore. It was a bad breakup, probably the worst you’ve ever had and the biggest Jackson’s ever seen. The second this town hall is over, they’ll all be chatting amongst themselves, analyzing your behavior like it’s any of their business.

And Joel’s only giving them more to talk about. Seriously, why is he staring at you like that? If you can keep your eyes to yourself for an hour, surely he can at least pretend to be listening to what Maria’s saying, even though it’s boring as hell and doesn’t apply to either of you in the slightest. The winter dance next week really isn't your thing, no offense to her, but at least you're trying to look interested.

You shoot him a quick glare across the room, and he rolls his eyes, finally shifting his focus elsewhere. Apparently, that little interaction is all it takes to stir up the gossip mill because you can already hear a few of the worst offenders whispering to each other.

Fucking vultures. You’re pretty sure half of them are trying to make a move on Joel now that you’re over. Too bad he’s still busy spending his nights buried inside you.

The meeting ends pretty quickly after that, and everyone gets up from their seats, some staying to help put away folding chairs and others loitering around before they head to dinner. Somehow, Joel ends up next to you as you’re walking out, probably on purpose, and you take the opportunity to tell him off.

“Way to be fucking obvious, asshole,” you mumble, hoping no one else can hear you. “Did you have to stare at me like that? You made it seem like I spat in your fucking coffee this morning.”

He scoffs loudly, and you elbow him in the side, throwing him a warning glance. He’s acting like he wants everyone to know what you’re trying so hard to hide and it’s really starting to piss you off.

“Wasn’t lookin’ at you any sorta way, darlin’. You’re the one makin’ a fuss and gettin’ everyone’s attention,” he smirks. It’s not even fair how good he looks when he does that.

You feel a strong urge to slap it off his face, but that’s not really an option right now. An annoyingly intrusive thought tells you to save it for later when you’re alone, but you push it to the back of your mind. He’d probably enjoy that, anyways.

You quirk an eyebrow as subtly as you can. “…Are you kidding me? I wasn’t the one glaring at you the entire meeting.”

He looks around pointedly. “Ya think you’re not makin' it worse right now?”

You pause to take in your surroundings, and he’s right. You’re making a scene unnecessarily when you could’ve just ignored him and gone home like you’d planned. This is exactly why everyone thinks the breakup was your fault. Why they all think you're the villain in his story.

Joel knows just how to bring out the worst in you and you hate it. It’s one of the reasons you broke up in the first place. He pretends like everything’s fine and nothing’s ever his fault, and you’re constantly tricked into proving him right. But today he’s being purposely antagonistic and you can’t tell why.

“Oh, fuck you, Joel,” you grit through your teeth. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

He doesn’t.

Not even a few hours later, he’s at your back door—like always, so no one sees him come and go—eyeing you a little wildly. Hungrily. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He's horny. Probably has been all day, judging by his behavior earlier. He doesn’t say anything, just lurches forward to kiss you, to get his hands on you, but your arms shoot out to stop him.

“Uhh, what are you doing? Pretty sure I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

He’s already panting as if he ran all the way here, but the tent in his pants tells you otherwise. His heart is racing under your palms, and while you haven’t forgotten how furious you still are, the fact that he’s this desperate for you makes you want to.

"Yeah, but ya didn't mean it. Ya never mean it,” he says like he knows you so well. You hate that he does, but the last thing you’re going to do is admit it.

“Why the fuck would I say it if I didn't?" you scoff.

"'Cus it's more fun that way," he leans in again, but you jerk your head back. Is he serious? It’s not like you normally have a nice little chat before you fuck, but he usually has more patience than this.

“Joel, stop. Are you trying to get us caught?” you eye him incredulously. It’s dark out and, yeah, you’re not having this conversation on the porch where anyone can see you, but other people’s windows still face your yard. He’s acting ridiculous.

"Maybe I wanna get caught,” he replies smugly, crowding you against the door. “Maybe I want everyone to know who ya belong to.”

His eyes are unreadable, and you’re caught between shock and intense curiosity. But then, that familiar feeling of fury returns, and you allow that to win out. You reach behind you for the doorknob, twisting it open to back inside.

“No. Nope, that’s not happening today,” you say with finality, yanking him by the collar into the house. You shove his back against the door, slamming it shut, and your grip tightens on his shirt. He’s smirking again, and it somehow looks even better on his face now than it did earlier.

“There’s my girl,” he breathes out, his hands finding your waist to pull you closer. It sends an unwitting wave of heat through you, a gasp escaping your lips before you can stop it. Fuck. He hasn’t called you that since before the breakup. Because it hasn’t been true since then, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Only in here. Right, Joel?” He nods his head slowly, but his eyes betray him. He doesn’t believe that for one second.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

And, for now, that’s enough for you. You crash your lips into his hard enough to bruise and he groans into your mouth, rocking his hips into your belly so you can feel him straining in his jeans. It’s a little dizzying knowing just how much he wants you. How much he always wants you.

Flipping your positions to lead him backward, you reach down to unbutton his pants, your lips still moving languidly against his. Your fingertips purposely skim his bulge as you tug down his zipper, and he bucks into your hand, something soft and needy rumbling out of his chest.

More layers of clothing are stripped off and thrown haphazardly on the floor, leaving a trail from the kitchen to the living room, until the backs of his legs bump into the couch. All that's left now are his boxers, your underwear, and your bra. You make quick work of the latter yourself, dropping it to the floor, and then kick off your underwear, smirking at the look of sheer yearning on his face.

He reaches out to touch you, fingertips only managing to graze the side of your breast before you slap his hand away. He's not allowed to touch you until the playing field is even and he's as bare as you are. He already knows that.

His eyes are so dark, pupils dilated until that gentle brown has almost completely disappeared, and the way he's looking at you is reminiscent of a different time. You ignore it, focusing on all of the things you know he's about to do to your body instead. It'll help you forget whatever you just recognized in his gaze for a little while.

You tug on the waistband of his boxers, letting them snap back into his hips.

"Off," you tell him simply, giving him enough time to pull them down before you shove him onto the cushions. You climb into his lap, hands settling on his shoulders as you lower yourself down to drag your wet folds across his cock.

He hisses a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips to guide you, and you let him slick himself up against your pussy. He's so hard below you, looking painfully and almost angrily red at the tip. You sigh at the repeated friction on your clit and he twitches at the sound, dribbling precum that immediately mixes with your wetness.

"Need to be inside you. Now," he moans breathily, burying his face between your tits. He turns his head slightly to nip at the sensitive skin, and you tremble, trailing a hand up the side of his neck to bury in his soft curls. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod quickly, chest heaving as you lift enough to reach down and wrap your fingers around him. Pumping him a few times, you drag the tip between your folds before lining him up with your entrance. He pants damply into your chest, more precum leaking out in anticipation.

And then you're dropping onto him, crying out loudly as you impale yourself on his cock. His hips shoot up off the couch, forcing himself deeper into your cunt, and he lets out a pained whoosh of air, adjusting to you as much as you are to him.

"Shit, that's—," he chokes out a moan as you start to move, "—tight. Fuckin' grippin' me, Christ."

You purposely squeeze him a little harder, exhaling sharply out your nose when his nails bite into your skin.

"Yeah, because you barely fucking fit," you tease breathily.

But it's more than that. You mold around him like you were made to take it, soft sighs leaving your lips as you ride him slowly. He fits perfectly, something that took precious time, his cock finding a home inside you over and over, reshaping your walls in his image. The lock to his key.

You bury that thought, too—with every swivel of your hips, every brush of your clit against his skin. He latches onto your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as you continue to work him.

His eyes flutter shut, hands beginning to guide you up and down a little faster as he swirls searing circles around the nub until it peaks. He tugs at it sharply with his teeth and you gasp, a spear of heat lancing through your spine as you gush around him.

It all feels so…fuck, he knows exactly how you like it. And both of you can hear how much you like it, feel how sticky you're making his lap. The slide around his cock is wet and easy, and your pussy's gripping him even tighter, but you need…god, you need—

"Joel, fuck me—come on, fuck me," you whimper, tugging him away from your tits by his hair, and he responds immediately. Taking over, he establishes a frantic, steady rhythm, lifting you until just the tip is inside, and forcing you back down.

But it's still not hard or fast enough to satisfy the way he needs you right now. He wraps his arms fully around your waist to hold you in place, pistoning his hips into you, forcing increasingly louder haahs out of your chest.

"That's it, darlin', take it…take it," he groans, head tilting back so he can observe every subtle change of expression as he gives you exactly you asked for. He leans up to capture your lips, but it's not so much a kiss as an exchange of breath, soft and humid as you pant heavily into each other mouths.

It quiets you for a brief moment—potentially the best possible moment, because out of nowhere, you hear faint voices passing by outside. They're way too close for comfort, and you realize belatedly that you made a huge mistake earlier.

"W-wait, the curtains—shit, the curtains…ngh…are still open," you barely manage to gasp out. "Fuck, the windows are open."

It doesn't deter him in the slightest and, instead, spurs him on. "S'alright, it's dark in here. They can't see us," he rasps, keeping up his merciless pace.

Ducking his head down, he sucks hard on a sensitive spot—your favorite spot—right above your collarbone, and you whimper much louder than you mean to.

"They can still fucking hear us," you all but growl, feeling your thighs start to quake despite your growing panic.

"Good, let 'em," he laughs almost cruelly, and he sounds so possessive that it stuns you momentarily. He takes the opportunity to abruptly tug you off his lap and toss you onto your back across the cushions, fucking back into you before you can even process the shift in position.

Now that he's on top of you, pressing down with his entire weight, his pelvis grinds into your already swollen clit with every single thrust, and you can't help the wail that escapes your parted lips.

He doesn't hesitate to pull you close, hugging your head to his neck as if he's trying to block out the rest of the world. Everything and everyone, but you and him.

"Always so loud for me. C'mon, darlin', lemme hear ya," he murmurs into your hair, hips snapping into yours. "I know you can be louder than that. Scream for me."

And you do. There's nothing else you could've done anyway, not with how he's dragging against everything just right. Your hips desperately swivel into his, chasing that hot, slick friction every time he connects with you.

The slap-slap-slap of your skin on his becomes a deep, wet thock-thock-thock the closer you get, your pussy dripping pathetically down his cock, fluttering with your impending release. He can feel it, you know he can, because he's moaning loud enough to rival even you now. He ruts greedily into you, hitting so much deeper than before.

"Christ…you're gonna make me cum," he warns, voice wrecked, his face still buried in your hair. "Jesus fuckin'…" You keen into his neck, still desperately chasing your own high, but it's not enough.

"J-Joel, I need—," you try to tell him, but he cuts you off.

"—'m fuckin' cummin'. Fuck," he grunts roughly, tumbling over the edge before you get the chance. His hips slow even as he continues to punch his cock as deep as it'll go, flooding your pussy.

No. Shit—no, no, no. He can't slow down, not now. You're almost there—so fucking close. He has to keep going. Just a little bit longer.

"No, Joel, no," you sob, legs kicking up around his waist as you grind up into him needily, increasing your speed. "Please, harder…please, please. Keep going for me—"

You feel rather than hear the groan rumble in his chest as he resumes his previous, unforgiving pace, ramming into you almost painfully.

"'m gonna. Don't'chu fuckin' worry."

At that, your orgasm quickly crashes over you, and you don't even realize you're slapping a hand into his side, still begging him not to stop as you wring him dry.

It's deafening what erupts from your chest when you finally cum. There's no doubt anyone outside can hear everything. Every squelch, every squeal, even the couch creaking, being pushed to its absolute limit.

Joel's name leaves your lips breathily, repeatedly like a prayer. You're shaking like a leaf underneath him, and he pulls back to brush your hair out of your face so he can kiss you, tender and open-mouthed.

This, too, feels gut-wrenchingly familiar but, for some reason, you don't want it to stop. Right now, you don't want to forget how it makes you feel.

He pulls out slowly, shoving two thick fingers inside you before your pussy can leak your combined releases all over the couch, and the sigh that escapes you sounds both content and despairing. He notices right away. Of course, he does.

Watching him leave you after nights like this hurts so much worse lately. Maybe it's nostalgia. Or maybe it's the unavoidable emotional connection you feel when he's inside you.

Even though months have passed since you decided you'd be better off without each other, something inexplicable keeps bringing you back together. It's not just the sex and you know it, no matter how much you choose to pretend otherwise.

He knows it, too. He tells you all the time—in the softness of his kiss, his desire to please you, and his eyes, still only ever focused on you.

And, now, in the possessiveness of his words and actions. Of his touch.

He gazes down at you knowingly, as if he can see every one of your troubled thoughts in the cloudiness of your eyes. He's always been annoyingly good at that.

"Y'know, I don't have to leave just yet," he murmurs, brushing his nose gently against your cheek. "Only in here, right? You're still mine as long as we're right here."

You let him wrap you up in his arms, nodding into his warm, beautifully scar-riddled chest.

"I'm yours."

thanks for reading! 💕

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 !! ✩࿐

pairings: albedo, alhaitham, childe, cyno, heizou, kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, very light angst in xiao’s and childe’s (they still ends with fluff though), kissing, established relationship

summary: in which your boyfriend tells you that he loves you, but instead of returning his sentiments, you decide to mess with him by not saying it back.

a/n: i said that i’d post soon like two weeks ago... oops. nonetheless, i hope you have fun reading this!

₊˚ପ ALBEDO

“What’s the matter?” Albedo asks, tilting his head slightly as the words fall from the tip of his tongue. Vivid teal eyes fill with hints of concern that dance through his irises loftily in a flurry of iridescent petals.

Albedo is worried, but he doesn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. For now, he’ll test the waters of an unexplored ocean and scope out the situation, hoping that he’s just reading too much into things.

“Nothing,” you answer, tilting your head innocently as if you don’t have a clue what Albedo’s talking about.

Your boyfriend is perplexed, but he’s not an idiot. He’s often been regarded as a genius, and he’s spent almost as much time reading the sentimental words engraved into your heart as he has conducting his experiments. Albedo is absolutely captivated by you because you never fail to leave him fascinated and awe-struck. So naturally, he’s managed to pick up on all your subtle habits and all your strange quirks.

And right now, the expression on your face tells him that something is off. A missing brushstroke on a panoramic painting. A sour note in an otherwise enchanting composition. A sparkling daydream where you feel just a little too lucid.

You know exactly what he’s talking about. You’re just feigning ignorance.

Now all Albedo has to do is figure out why.

“I see,” he whispers under his breath in a tone so soft that even a light breeze would whisk his words off to neverland.

Albedo’s gaze remains fixated on you, his eyebrows scrunched and eyes narrowed.

Then a barely-audible chuckle leaves your lips. You stifle it in an instant, but Albedo has committed the melodic sound of your laugh to memory.

And suddenly everything makes sense.

You’re trying to get a reaction out of him, but sadly for you, you seem to have forgotten one key detail. Albedo is used to solving issues in a calm manner, his temperament akin to aquatic drafts that gently caress the surface of a crystal ocean. Cool and controlled.

“Ah, I understand now,” he says, and your eyes widen. The expression on your face rivals the beauty of a night sky dotted with various asterisms. You’re utterly ethereal. The corners of Albedo’s lips turn up, graced with a smile that shines with the light of a million stars. “You thought you could fool me, but unfortunately, you just gave yourself away.”

A pause. The tension within the air thaws, and the atmosphere becomes light-hearted once more.

“I’m not mad,” he clarifies, staring you dead in the eye, “but I would, however, appreciate it if you could make it up to me.”

₊˚ପ ALHAITHAM

Alhaitham is unfazed.

He sees right through you. You didn’t seriously think this was going to work on him, right? It didn’t take him long to get used to your antics when you first got together, and although you haven’t tried to play as many pranks on him as of late, it’s difficult to erase the devious grin you don whenever you’re up to something from his mind. Nor has the sly look in your eyes slipped from his memory.

Your boyfriend’s ability to read you is almost prophetic — a prediction of the future, yet no stars are read and no omens are required. He makes his predictions based on logic and logic alone.

And unfortunately for you, you don’t possess the same capabilities.

When you ignore Alhaitham’s honeyed words, turning your back to walk away with a coldness reminiscent of the farthest outreaches of the galaxy, he simply shrugs it off and heads to your living room to read a book. He sinks comfortably into a plush armchair, knowing full well that you’ll be back in no time.

Just four pages in, and Alhaitham hears the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallways, filling your shared home with a familiar sort of music. It’s only a few more seconds before he feels a tap on his shoulder — a touch that brings him back to reality entirely, away from the realm of scholarly pursuits.

“Is there anything you need?” Alhaitham asks, meeting your gaze with eyes tinted a turquoise found only in the most pristine of diamond waters. He remains as stoic as ever, not allowing so much as a single hint of emotion to show through his front.

You stare at him, dumbfound, for a few moments. Alhaitham knows what you’re thinking. He’s normally so observant — nothing ever slips past him, and yet this time, he failed to acknowledge the fact that you didn’t respond to his ‘I love you’. Besides that, it’s rather rare for Alhaitham to allow those words to leave his lips in the first place. He prefers to reserve them for tender moments, times where it feels like the only beings present in the vast universe are the two of you. You expected him to be more alert, and yet, Alhaitham has subverted all your expectations.

And it’s all part of his plan.

But then your eyes widen, filling with a light signaling that you’ve just experienced an epiphany. Alhaitham can tell that you’ve realized what he’s up to, and that your little scheme has backfired entirely.

“About earlier,” you start, assuming that Alhaitham already knows what you’re referring to.

Alhaitham smiles.

“What about it?” he questions you, acting oblivious even though both of you know Alhaitham would never be that clueless.

“You acted like you didn’t notice on purpose, didn’t you?” You’re pouting, but your irritation is clearly feigned. Alhaitham knows you like the back of his hand, and although messing with you produces some entertaining results, he would never go so far as to hurt you.

A rare smile graces Alhaitham’s face, as stunning as vivid ribbons of celestial light that compose an illustrious aurora. He’s not typically one to express emotion, but he can’t help himself. You’re just far too irresistible, and if there’s one thing he has a soft spot for, it’s you.

“My apologies,” he speaks in his usual calm tone. “I just couldn’t help myself — not when I knew I’d be able to bear witness to such an adorable display of anger.”

₊˚ପ CHILDE

The silence that hangs in the air is tangible — a thick veil of unspoken words, all consolidated into glacial fractals that cause the atmosphere to glaze over. An icy sort of tension permeates the moment, crystallizing the ambience and morphing it into something fragile.

And everything shatters when your boyfriend speaks.

“[Name],” he frowns, gazing at you with periwinkle hues devoid of illumination. He sighs, swallowing his pride. “Say it back. Please.”

A blank look fills your eyes, morphing once-lively galaxies into monochromatic jumbles of nonsense. For once, Childe can’t tell what you’re thinking, and that scares him. Either you’re messing with him, and you’re an exceptionally good actor, or you’re being serious.

“Say what back?” you say, cluelessness filling your tone filling your tone.

Childe is dumbfounded. It’s true that he tells you he loves you quite often, but he didn’t think that you’d become so accustomed to it that his words would no longer hold any weight. Although he finds it slightly odd, he supposes that even the most precious of glittering gemstones becomes mundane when fortune is the norm. But that doesn’t mean he’s any less disappointed.

“You really can’t tell?” he sighs yet again. He averts his gaze, looking anywhere but at you.

You shake your heart, and yet as you do, he catches a subtle flash of gilded lightning flash through your irises, setting your expression ablaze with hints of mischief. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared, but Childe knows what he saw. The initial melancholy that gripped his heart with cold fingers borne of frost dissipates, and in its place, amusement arises.

Silence. Shock. Disbelief.

And then he bursts out in a fit of sonorous laughter, the sheer volume of each chuckle rivalling that of an intense tempest.

Your eyes widen. It seems that you didn’t expect to be found out, but Childe has known you for long enough to be able to read your emotions. He’s spent an eternity exploring every nuance of your personality — every subtlety and every quirk, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And he loves every part of you.

That’s why he never fails to express his adoration whenever the opportunity is presented in evanescent moments like these. Although times like these sound like they’d be rare, they’re not when he’s by your side. Every second is filled with bliss, and despite the instances where azure skies are painted a dull grey and sapphire oceans turn tumultuous, he always knows that everything will be alright.

“I should have known,” he says. “You were just teasing me.”

Busted.

In less than a minute, your boyfriend has exposed all your plans, and you have no choice but to admit defeat.

“I was,” you admit, hanging your head.

Childe laughs, but once he settles down, he cups your chin in one hand and lifts your head to meet his gaze. With a surprising amount of tenderness, he closes the distance between your lips. Inch by inch.

You lean in as well. Time slows, and he forgets how to breathe. Even though he was the one who initiated the kiss, he finds you utterly enchanting. The beating of his heart speeds up, becoming erratic, desperate for the sensation of your soft lips pressed against his.

And then it happens. Although Childe had been looking for a verbal affirmation of love, this is even better. Fireworks seem to burst in the edges of his vision, painting the world in vivid shades of phosphorescent crimson and rose.

₊˚ପ CYNO

“Say it back. There’s no need to continue on with this prank of yours because cy-no you’re only joking,” he says. His voice is as monotone as ever, as tranquil as cerulean seas beneath a sky dotted with snowy white clouds.

His words provoke no response from you. You simply stare at him, too shocked to speak.

“Do you get it? Because Cyno is my name, and ‘cy’ sounds a little bit like ‘I’ while ‘no’ sounds like ‘know’.”

Cyno watches as your features scrunch in a twist of disbelief, embarrassment, and fear. He internally chuckles, secretly delighting in the adorable expression adorning your face.

Your reactions are always priceless, worth more than the most precious of gold and the most luxurious of diamonds. Because basking in the splendor of your smile is true opulence.

“Okay, okay,” you giggle, the embers of mischief within your eyes flickering, “you win. Please stop with the puns. I can’t take it anymore.” Your tone is playful, light.

The corners of Cyno’s lips turn up slightly as a smile graces his features. He’s well aware that your exasperation is feigned — nothing more than an exaggeration fabricated in order to tease him a little. Besides, if you didn’t like his sense of humour, you wouldn’t even be dating him right now.

“Victory is mine,” Cyno speaks triumphantly in a tone full of a hyperbolic sort of grandeur.

He feels light-hearted for the first time in a while, and it’s in that moment, that fraction of a second, that Cyno realizes something.

Your presence is liberating.

When he’s with you, he’s free from the troubles of daily life. With you, the responsibilities that go hand-in-hand with his status are put on hold, allowing him some time to truly experience what it’s like to be unburdened. With you, he’s not the General Mahamatra, one of the most renowned figures within Sumeru. 

He’s just Cyno.

He feels his grin widen as he opens his mouth to speak once more.

“I love you,” he repeats his words from earlier, his tone one of pure adoration and bliss. The beating of his heart picks up, setting a new tempo that seems just right for the moment, a perfect backing for a myriad of silent declarations.

That seems to do the trick because you admit defeat without hesitation and utter the same words back with an extra one following in tandem.

“I love you too.”

₊˚ପ HEIZOU

“Oh? Do you not love me anymore?” Heizou confronts the problem head-on, feigning sadness. A smirk spreads across his face when he sees your confused expression, but he manages to erase it in an instant, deceiving even the eyes of his partner.

You should have known better than to play a prank of this sort on him. After all, Heizou’s always been one to turn your tricks against you.

As soon as your eyes widen and your jaw drops, Heizou knows that he’s won. To his relief, you don’t notice the way his verdant pools of peridot sparkle with mischief. You’re too absorbed in your panic to sense that anything is off.

He has to continuously stifle bouts of laughter. Heizou finds your reactions slightly too cute.

“N-No! I didn’t mean it like that!” you blurt out in a tone laced with desperation. “I’m sorry. I should have known that you would have noticed something was off. You’re always so perceptive,” you speak sheepishly, averting your gaze. “I just wanted to see how you’d react if I didn’t say it back…”

Heizou chuckles.

“You’re too cute, darling,” he muses, staring you straight in the eyes. “Fortunately for you, my intuition told me that you were just messing with me.”

You groan.

“Of course you figured it out,” you sigh.

Heizou can’t help but mentally agree. He’s already used to solving mysteries, and the fact that the two of you are so close doesn’t quite work to your advantage. Your boyfriend knows you like the back of his hand, and unfortunately for you, he enjoys the thrill of piecing together the puzzles you craft in an attempt to elicit reactions from him.

“I think I deserve a reward for cracking this case,” he says, pointing a finger at his lips.

When Heizou sees your eyes light up, glowing with the opalescent radiance of a nebula, he knows he’s about to get what he wants.

With one quick movement, you lean in nervously to place a shy kiss on Heizou’s lips, clearly still embarrassed by your failure. When you pull away, you take a few steps backwards before gazing deep into your boyfriend’s eyes. In that moment, Heizou realizes that the sentiments swirling through your irises — feelings embodied by the warm hues of a dying sunset — are nothing but sincere.

₊˚ପ KAZUHA

Kazuha knows you’re teasing him. From the subtle grin you’re trying to hide to the mischievous light dancing within your star-flecked irises, it’s not difficult to discern that you’re teasing him.

But despite everything, he decides to play along.

“I love you,” he repeats, gently taking your hand in his. He plants a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, a charming habit more than a calculated measure.

Kazuha glances up at you and smiles — a gentle expression that lights up your day with rays of golden sunshine. In a single flash, your cheekiness vanishes, and instead, an awestruck gaze paints itself across your face.

Kazuha suppresses a giggle. Far too often, he finds himself enamoured with you, especially when you’re flustered. He attempts to memorize the sight before him, engraving every dip and curve of your facial features into his memories.

You’re just far too endearing for him to resist, and besides, you’re his muse. Kazuha isn’t exactly sure how he knows it, but somehow, he’s certain that someday this moment will undergo a metamorphosis within a hall of crystallized memories, transforming from a fond recollection of the past to strings of eloquently phrased words — a haiku.

You look absolutely captivated by him, and although he didn’t intentionally try to send your heart into a frenzy of vivid daydreams and rose-tinted adoration, he’s glad you find him so attractive. A few seconds pass before you give in.

“I love you too,” you whisper breathlessly, grinning at Kazuha before leaving for the day. As soon as you’re out the door, Kazuha chuckles, eyes containing the essence of autumn mingling with a bright moonglow, swirling with amusement.

“I love you more.”

₊˚ପ SCARAMOUCHE

Scaramouche is confused, but he tries his best not to show it. He’s fairly certain that the two of you haven’t argued recently, so why is it that you’re not reciprocating his affections?

Although Scaramouche acts like he doesn’t care sometimes, he knows all your small habits. And as your lover, he finds it odd that you aren’t uttering those three powerful words back. That coupled with the fact that it’s rather difficult for him to express his feelings makes him desperate for a response.

“Are you forgetting something?” he grumbles, not wanting to seem too desperate. Deep down, his emotions cause whirlwinds of conflicting thoughts to swirl in his mind.

He watches as you blink — slowly, gradually as if you want to stretch seconds into eons. A frown etches itself into his forehead, and he feels irritation begin to overtake his heart. Storm clouds, tinted an ominous grey, overwhelm the ambience.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you shake your head.

“I don’t think so,” you tell him.

Scaramouche’s features twist into a pout, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Yet at the same time, your boyfriend is embarrassed beyond measure. He feels his cheeks heating up, and he’s absolutely sure that shades of pink reminiscent of a sunrise have begun to dust his pale cheeks.

“Fine,” he breathes out, rolling his eyes and turning away. “Forget it. I’ll see you tonight.” Scaramouche tries to brush it off casually, attempting to erase the odd experience from memory.

He want nothing more than to hear you say those three words back, but he’s far too proud to admit it.

He nearly walks away before he feels a firm grip on his shoulder.

“Wait,” you say. “I was just kidding.”

Scaramouche groans. He turns around in order to face you.

“How irritating,” he sighs. He brushes his hair, silken strands spun of midnight, away from in front of his eyes. Scaramouche can’t believe you were able to sense his vulnerability.

You giggle upon seeing Scaramouche’s grumpy face.

“You owe me for this,” he states.

“I know,” you whisper, stepping closer to him and leaning in.

Scaramouche feels his breath hitch, and before he knows what’s happening, the sensation of your warm lips against his overwhelms his senses. Sparks fly in the edges of his vision, and soon enough, a passionate fire is set ablaze in a grand display of crimson elation.

Although you didn’t say anything in response when he told you he loved you, your wordless exchange of adoration speaks volumes.

I love you.

₊˚ପ XIAO

Xiao sucks in a quiet breath as you turn away from him. It’s not often that he expresses his affection verbally, and the fact that you’re barely responding to his declaration of love is unnerving.

He looks down, strands of seafoam obscuring his gaze, blocking eyes of honeyed amber from your line of sight. However, he raises his head after only a few seconds, attempting to ignore the feeling of unease creeping up on him, freezing his very being with a subtle chill. It’s barely there — a pain nowhere near the sting of a frostbite — yet it still eats away at him, reminding him again and again that something is wrong.

But although Xiao wants to ask you if anything’s bothering you or if he did something to upset you, he can’t. Translating his emotions into words feels far too difficult, especially because in all honestly, this situation is probably no big deal — or so he tells himself. Your nonchalance contrasts with his overthinking, causing doubt to well up within his mind.

In the end, he allows you to leave, wallowing within an aquamarine sea of thoughts. The world has been painted a watercolour blue. Although he refuses to admit it, melancholy overtakes Xiao’s heart, as he’s now both confused and lost.

Did he upset you?

The idea doesn’t seem too outlandish. Xiao’s never been good at interpreting emotions or expressing them, and it’s one of his greatest insecurities as your boyfriend. He’s gotten better over time, but there are times where he still worries about being too oblivious to your feelings.

Unfortunately for Xiao, you’re out for the day, so there’s plenty of time for negative thoughts to ruminate in his mind, festering until they reach the point of becoming a soulless black hole, draining every bit of confidence from him.

As the skies outside the glass windows of your shared home begin to tint with a rosy blush, and a golden light paints the world in shades of ephemeral warmth, Xiao becomes restless. You’ll be back any moment, and then, he’ll have to face you. Anticipation causes his heart to beat in a frenzy as the minute of your arrival approaches.

And sure enough, you return at the exact time you always do.

As soon as you walk through the door, Xiao walks over to greet you, gauging your reactions. When you see him, the corners of your lips turn up in an ethereal smile, and the rest of your face lights up.

Your delighted expression takes Xiao aback. He didn’t expect such a pleasant greeting after the events of this morning, but he brushes it off, allowing a grin to dance across his features in tandem, reciprocating your look of absolute adoration.

“I missed you,” he whispers, stepping closer to you in order to gently take your hand in his.

To assure himself that you’re here in the moment. That nothing’s wrong.

He sighs contently when you don’t pull away. The solace of your intertwined fingers is akin to the tidings of a viridescent spring after countless days of pure white dusting a panoramic landscape. It’s a breath of fresh air after eons spent hyperventilating in the frigidness of a crystallized wasteland, silently fading away amongst seas of sparkling snow.

Xiao can finally breathe again.

And when he laters asks why you didn’t return the three precious words he uttered under his breath earlier that day, as the sun had just begun bathing the world in aureate light, your answer causes his face to heat up.

It was nothing more than a prank.

disappearing back into my gremlin cave for another fifty years now!! thank you so much for reading!

[allysunny]

Hello!! Can i request a 14 + 19 + n for Miguel? remember to take care of yourself as always :)) , luv from anon! 🎀

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me” + “I’ve got you” + Pregnancy x Miguel O’Hara

Words: 4.1k words

Warnings: Beach day! Fluff, pregnancy, mentions of body image issues, mention of suggestive themes, some light angst (if you squint, really), soft Miguel, he's an incredible husband <3 If I missed anything, let me know, I'm terrible at tagging! Not proofread - oops!

A/N: Hey everyone!!! I'm back!!! Wow, I could post two works this week? Insane!!! Well, it was a real blast writing this. I mean it, I got it ready in like, a day or two. That's just how much fun I had with this little drabble! It was just so cute, and I'm a sucker for soft Miguel. I missed writing for him!!!

Once again, I ask your patience. I promise I haven't given up on writing, I'm just really, really busy hahaha.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this! I certainly did <3

“These are so good…” you mumbled, biting into the treat in your hand.

Miguel, standing next to you, winced and his face contorted in a slight expression of disgust. “Cream cheese with anchovies?” he asked, “Yes, mi vida. I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You kept on biting at your sandwich, a content smile on your lips.

“How’d you know this is exactly what I’d want right now?” you asked, mouth stuffed. Miguel winced again. You knew it bothered him when people spoke with their mouth full, and yet he said nothing, simply happy to watch his loving wife indulge in her (honestly appalling) sandwich.

“Call it a lucky guess. All of your cravings so far have been disgusting, I thought I might as well mix whatever we had left on the fridge, and you’d enjoy it.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Seriously? Were you and your cravings that predictable that he could just mix whatever two ingredients there were in your fridge? But as soon as you gave it some more thought, the notion made you laugh. Perhaps it didn’t mean you were predictable, only that your husband knew you that well.

You ran a hand on top of your pregnant belly, giving it a few pats before returning to your sandwich.

“Thank you. Our baby seems to be enjoying it as well,” you tell him with a soft smile.

Miguel returns it and bends down to press a soft kiss on top of your stomach. “Well, that makes me happy.”

You two sat there. You, enjoying your ridiculous sandwich, Miguel enjoying your company. He’d been meaning to take you on a small beach day for a while now, but his work kept getting in a way. After a few tweaks in his schedule (courtesy of Lyla), and a few missions handled by other people (Jessica and Peter B. had been kind enough to catch those anomalies by themselves), he’d managed to snag you away on a sunny Saturday morning.

You had everything you could possibly need. Lots (and lots) of food, an insane amount of sunscreen (that Miguel insisted on applying on your skin every 20 minutes), a few books to keep you entertained (even though you’re only spending the day, and not a whole week), lots of refreshments, and four beach umbrellas for you to sit under (that occupied far too much space, something you’d stressed a lot at home. But it’s not like Miguel listened).

“Everything alright, mi vida?” He asked you.

You nodded and wiggled your feet, relishing on the feeling of the soft sand against them. “As alright as it was five minutes ago, Miggy. I promise I’m fine. There’s no need to worry about me.”

He only sighed in response and shook his head.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Can I get you anything? Would you like something from the beach bar? Fresh juice? Any other beverage? An ice cream?” Miguel looked positively adorable when he worried. Ever since you told him you were pregnant, he started treating you as if you were made of glass, and as soon as you started showing, he went actually crazy.

His wife can’t lift a box – can’t bend down and possibly hurt the baby. He’ll do all of the heavy lifting. In fact, he’ll do all of the lifting.

She can’t do the dishes – spending far too long on her feet can tire her out, and he couldn’t have that.  He’ll wash everything and get a dishwasher for the days he worked late.

She can’t possibly cook dinner – what if something goes wrong and she gets upset? Stress is not good for the baby. No, let Miguel do all the cooking.

She can’t clean either – let him handle it.

The point was, Miguel was an extremely protective man. He loved you more than anything. And now you were carrying the world’s most precious cargo: his son.

So why wouldn’t he treat you with the utmost care?

“Miguel, I told you, I’m fine.” You sighed, finishing your sandwich. Before you could say something, Miguel had handed you two napkins and a bottle of fresh orange juice. You took the napkins, cleaned your mouth, and he quickly grabbed a bottle of water, presenting both to you.

“Water? Juice? Which do you prefer, my love?” he asked.

You just shook your head. It was pointless to say anything. Better to simply enjoy it.

“Juice is fine.” You took the bottle and brought it to your lips, which earned a slight groan from him. Safe to say, your pregnancy had just made Miguel even more enamoured with you and your body. The accentuated curves, the softness and plushness of your skin, all for Miguel to grasp and tug and pull. Your tender breasts that had grown, and he’d already spent hours twisting and helping relieve some of your pain and soreness, your calves that often needed to be massaged – your body had always been a treasure to Miguel, but now that his child was growing inside of it, he was going to do everything in his power to love it more and more.

You looked at him; this look of his was easy to recognise. Crimson eyes low and darkened with desire, tracing every swirl of your tongue over your lips. You blushed furiously. It was flattering to know Miguel wanted you, and even more so to know both his love and lust had only increased with your pregnancy.

“Like what you see, Mister?” you asked, tilting your head, and playing coy.

Miguel loved it when you did that. It did things to him whenever you played hard to get, whenever you pretended not to know the effect you had on him.

“Very much. Te ves bien bonita,” he hummed, dipping his head low to place a kiss on your jaw. You sighed, and he took it as a sign to kiss you further, trailing down your neck.

You were just about to run your fingers through his hair when you remembered where the hell you were.

“M-Miguel!” you breathed out, slowly pulling him away from your body. “Please – we’re in public.”

“No me importa. Que vean.”

“No – Miguel, no.” You giggled and pushed him off you, earning an annoyed huff from him.

“We’re at the beach. We’re not going to give these people a show.”

“Oh, but who told you I don’t want to?” Miguel asked, raising a brow, “I’d like to show all of those idiots staring who the hell you belong to.” His voice was low and raspy, and you felt heat pool in your lower stomach. You shook your head, trying to get these nasty thoughts out of your head. This was supposed to be a nice, innocent beach date! Not fantasizing about your incredibly handsome husband.

“Well,” you spoke, “Too bad. You’re not doing anything.”

Miguel grumbled and got up, shaking his head.

“Always the same. Always ‘We’re in public Miggy!” or, ‘Don’t do that, people are watching Miguel”, or even ‘You can’t fuck me in front all of these people Miguel’!”

Your cheeks heat up and you blushed furiously, embarrassment spreading through your whole body. Your husband wasn’t talking in a particularly low tone, and people had started to look at him. More specifically, women, smirking towards him and licking their lips viciously. Your stomach was about to curl when Miguel spoke his next words, making you forget all about other people.

“One of these days I’ll take you in front of all of them, I’m telling you. Show them you’re mine.”

“Miguel!”

“What?” He turned to look at you, and you could see that stupid smirk of his plastered all over his face. It was no secret that Miguel loved to see you flustered like this.

“Don’t say that out loud, oh my god!”

“Why? It’s not like I’m lying here.” Before you could protest further, Miguel offered you a cheeky smile and nodded his head towards the water. “I’m gonna go for a dive. Do you want to come?”

You shook your head. “No, that’s fine.” It was enough for Miguel to tense up, but you were quick to reply. “It’s fine – I’ll be fine, Miguel, don’t worry. I’ll just stay here under the shade.” You tried offering him a reassuring smile. After all, you weren’t a child, and could take care of yourself just fine.

Miguel eyed you for a while, before sighing.

“Fine,” he said, “But if you need anything – “

“I’ll let you know. Don’t worry.”

“And I won’t be long. I promise. I just need to freshen up.”

“Miguel,” you said his name softly, “It’s fine. I promise I’ll be fine.”

He nodded and ran towards the water. You watched him as he looked around and the water tickled his feet.

You then looked around, taking the scenery in. It was a lovely sunny day. There were no clouds in the sky, and nothing but a small breeze could be felt brushing your hair. It was the perfect beach day, and you were so glad Miguel had taken today off to be with you. You missed him when he was gone, and although you knew what he did was extremely important (after all, your husband was Spider-Man), it was only natural to long for him when he was away. Especially with these pesky pregnancy hormones.

You returned your gaze to him, and that’s when you saw her.

A woman, eyeing Miguel up and down, shamelessly.

You raised an eyebrow. For the looks of it, it seemed as if she had been looking at him for a while. It was clear she was looking him up and down, and you felt a nasty feeling forming on your stomach, something green and envious and nasty.

The woman approached him, and your eyes lingered on her, on her perfect silhouette. Her legs were long and lean, her stomach toned, and her bikini sure did wonders showing off her boobs. Along with the jealousy you felt clawing at your skin, came another feeling, that instead of making you angry, just made you sad.

Miguel had seemed to notice her, because he turned to face her and the two started to talk. She was all smiles and giggles, tilting her head slightly and – was she actually swaying her hips? You huffed. Miguel was no stranger to flirtation. Women shot their shots with him all the time. Well, tried to. He was always quick to shut them down, mentioning his lovely wife, who happened to now be carrying his baby.

You knew him to be faithful. You knew he loved you and only you. You knew he would never hurt you or cheat on you or cause you any distress.

So why was it that you felt so unworthy of him when you two were out?

You looked at the woman again.

She was gorgeous, with perfect skin, flawless hair, and a great fucking body.

And here you were, sitting down on a chair you could barely get out of, eating a sandwich you were sure was positively disgusting to everyone else, feeling big and fat and ugly and simply not enough for him. The thought nearly brought you two tears. Miguel always assured you of how much he loved you, of how much he adored you and found you the most beautiful woman in the world.

And yet you couldn’t help but wipe away one or two tears that spilled across your cheeks, dark thoughts clouding your mind. You were surrounded by beautiful women, all of them reminding you of how much less you felt, with their perfect bodies and normal stomachs that did not weigh a ton because of the baby growing inside of them, with long legs that elegantly strutted instead of awkwardly waddling from one room to the other. Would Miguel be better off with any of these women? Would they look better on his arm, on his bed, on his life?

It was simply too much. You grabbed your nearby dress and placed it on top of your belly, hiding it. Then, you moved to grab your book, trying to focus on your reading. It was nearly impossible, and when Miguel returned after a while, you did your best not to look at him.

“Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

You refused to meet his eye.

“Mhm. Just peachy.”

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then why are you covering yourself?”

“Just protecting the baby from the heat,” you mumbled. What a terrible excuse.

Miguel hummed before you. He bent down and grabbed his towel, shaking the sand from it (away from you, of course), before setting it down on the spot next to yours, and laying on it. Now that he was up close, you could see every freckle on his body, every muscle, every droplet that fell down his arms, his legs, his back. He was as charming as ever.

And you had never felt more inadequate. Unconsciously, you brought your dress closer, hiding your chest too.

"¿Seguro que estás bien, mi vida?" Miguel asked again, looking up at you. Why the hell were you covering your body? Were you cold? It was rather warm outside, that couldn’t be it. Did you feel sick?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Miguel followed your eyes. They landed on the woman that had tried to strike up a conversation with him earlier.

And then everything fell into place.

The way you were hiding your body from him, the way you looked somewhere else so that you wouldn’t have to meet his gaze, how sheepishly you were acting.

And it genuinely upset Miguel. Because how could you ever think that you weren’t the most gorgeous woman out there? That your body wasn’t worthy of worship and adoration and idolisation? His fingers slowly crept up next to you, and he softly pulled the dress away from your body, exposing your belly, your thighs, your legs, your beautiful skin and being.

“Miguel, gimme that back,” you mumbled, trying to take the dress back from him. He pulled back his arm and the dress was immediately out of your reach. You huffed, hugging your hands around your body, as if you could hide it from him. You couldn’t. And Miguel was heartbroken that you thought you had to.

“Tell me what’s wrong, mami.” He said, hand caressing your thigh. He’d have to coax the insecurity out of you.

“Nothing’s wrong, I’m just cold – “

“It’s so hot, we could almost fry an egg on that cute belly of yours.” Miguel said. He wasn’t afraid to talk about your body, especially not after you’d gotten pregnant. You’d felt insecure once or twice, but he had always reassured you of how beautiful you were, and how radiant you looked, even with that big pregnant belly of yours. And for the past few months, you’d been doing amazing, feeling confident about your body, and loving your new figure and everything it meant for your future alongside Miguel. But perhaps the beach had taken some of that confidence away.

You sighed and looked away. Unfortunately for you, Miguel reached out with his hand and turned your face towards his. Nowhere to hide.

“Vale. Suelta la sopa,” he spoke.

There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to look to aside from those gorgeous chocolate-crimson eyes of his. You trusted Miguel, you really did. So why were you having such a hard time saying this? Perhaps you didn’t want him to feel like he didn’t love you enough. You knew he loved you. You knew he found you attractive. What if you thought you were being dramatic? What if he thought you were too high maintenance, still feeling insecure even though all he did was reassure you of his love? It’s not like you can help your feelings.

“I don’t want to bother you Miggy,” you replied, voice soft. “It’s fine.”

“You’ll never bother me. You know that, right? Now, come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You bit your bottom lip, and then nodded.

“It’s just… I just feel so…” You scrambled for words.

“Take your time,” Miguel said to reassure you.

“I feel so unworthy.”

“Unworthy? How so, mi alma?”

“I’m not – my body is not – I’ve changed, Miguel. My body has changed so much. I don’t look like them – “ you nudged your head towards the water, where the gorgeous woman had been moments ago. “And I never will. And look at you – you’re so handsome. You’ve always been. And next to you, I feel… I feel inadequate. I don’t feel beautiful enough for you… And I know what you’re gonna say. That I am, and that you love me, and that you love this child. And so do I. More than anything. But sometimes, I just feel… I feel like you’d look better with someone like that on your arm.”

Miguel listened attentively to each word you said. Just as he figured out, you were feeling down because of your appearance.

“Honey,” he started, letting go of your chin. “You are right. I will say that you look beautiful, and that you’ll always look beautiful to me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quicker.

“Uh-uh – let me finish. As I was saying, you are beautiful. And I love you. Sure, your body has changed, but it has changed because you’re carrying our baby. You’re carrying a child. Mi vida, do you know how miraculous that is?” His voice was laced with nothing but adoration, and so were his eyes. “You’re carrying a life inside of you. You’re going to bring a life into this world. That is such a beautiful thing. Your body has simply stretched to accommodate our little one. And that is such a lovely thing. It’s a miracle, mi vida. You’re a miracle.”

Your eyes quickly filled with tears, and Miguel cupped your face with both of his hands.

“I couldn’t care less about other women. Whatever they have, whatever they might offer, it will never compare to what you offer me every day. To the love you so selflessly give me every single day, to the greatest gift you’re about to give me. A child. You’re going to bring my child into the world. You say you feel inadequate next to me – Mierda, I feel inadequate next to you. You have chosen me to be the father of your child, and you’re doing all of this to carry it and bring it to the world safely. And all I can do is watch. I can’t take away your pain, I can’t take away your discomfort. I’m the lucky one. I mean – hell, you could’ve had any guy in the world, but you chose me. You chose this awkward, nerdy, standoffish man who couldn’t even tell you he loved you the first time he kissed you because he was so bad dealing with his own feelings.”

You giggled as you recalled the memory, and your heart warmed. Miguel laughed along with you. He’d come very far with you. He was a man of logic, of reason, never letting emotions cloud his judgement. Which made everything infinitely harder when he met you – you, who broke down his walls and made it impossible to think and be reasonable. He’d come so far, and it was all thanks to you.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” Miguel continued. “This child is the greatest thing that could ever happen to us. I know that I can’t take away your insecurities just like this. And it kills me that you can’t see yourself the way I do. But please, please believe me when I tell you that you are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen in my life. The kindest, smartest. The most miraculous of them all, carrying a child all by yourself.”

Tears ran down your cheeks, and you sobbed softly. Miguel scooted closer to you, and with his help, you got up from your chair and sat down on his lap. His arms were instantly all over you, one of them bringing you close, the other trailing patterns on top of your stomach.

“I just… I feel so ugly sometimes… And then we came to the beach, and it was supposed to be a lovely day just between the two of us, but then I saw that woman, and she looked gorgeous, and I’ll never be her…” You said in between sobs.

Miguel caressed your head and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“You forgot the most important part.”

You looked up, confusion in your features.

“She will never be you.”

Your eyes widened softly, and you parted your lips.

“She will never be the woman I love. She will never be the woman who puts up with me every day, even when I’m cranky and grouchy. She will never be the woman who wakes me up with kisses in the morning because she wants me to start my day in the best way possible. She’ll never be the woman who packs my lunch and writes sweet notes. She will never be the woman who loves me unconditionally despite my many, many flaws. She will never be you. Never.”

You smiled through your tears and the invisible rope that tugged at Miguel’s heart loosened its hold. You were smiling. Thank God.

“She’ll never be me?” You repeated.

“No one will ever be you.” He replied, closing the gap between your faces, and taking your lips in his. You kissed him softly, cupping his jaw with your hand and trailing your fingers through his head with the other. When you pulled away for air, there were tears in your eyes once again.

“I’m sorry for being like this… Sometimes, the hormones, they just…”

Miguel quickly cut you off.

“You don’t need to apologize. I will never get tired of saying how much I love you, of telling you how much you mean to me. It’s okay to not be fine. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

You nodded with a small smile.

“Then I’m telling it to you too. It’s okay to feel like this. And I know I can’t understand the depth of your feelings. I can’t know for sure what you’re going through. But I’ll always be by your side. I’ll always be right here to help you. I love you, honey. I really do. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

If someone were to tell you a few years ago that Miguel would be capable of saying these sorts of things, you’d have scoffed and told them to fuck off. When you met him, Miguel didn’t do feelings. He never opened up, never spoke about himself or his emotions. But then you came along and taught him how to feel, how to love. You taught him it was okay to be vulnerable, to be taken care of, to be loved. You loved him all the more for it, your scary, mean, giant of a man who turned into putty whenever his eyes landed on you.

“I love you. Thank you so much for this. I mean it.” You said, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like the beach, like the soft breeze and the warm sun. You placed a kiss there and smiled as soon as the salt of the water hit your tongue.

“I’ve told you, mi vida. I’ve got you.” He said, still tracing patterns on your skin. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you.”

You two remained like this, in each other’s arms for a while.

You didn’t feel the need to get up or go for a swim. Not yet.

For now, all you wanted was to stay in your husband’s arms, feel his heartbeat against yours, sink further into his touch. You looked up and took in the scenery around you. The shining sun, the clear blue sky, the sparkly water. You watched as young couples smiled at each other, groups of friends played around, and families ran after their children. Someday, it’d be you and Miguel, along with your little one.

You realised you didn’t feel insecure anymore. Miguel was right. It was a miraculous thing, to be carrying such a precious thing inside of you. Your child. Miguel’s child. The product of the love and devotion you held for each other. You couldn’t be ashamed of that, could you?

You knew this would be an uphill battle. Your insecurities couldn’t be erased simply overnight. But with Miguel’s arms wrapped tightly around you, you realised that as long as you had him to remind you of all the beautiful things you and this body meant, and how much you two loved each other, it would be okay.

You would be okay.  

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys have enjoyed this little drabble.

Have a wonderful day ahead, everyone!!! <3

[captain-barnes-writes]

Fallen Petals (Max Verstappen)

part one

Summary: How a relationship wilts and comes to an end. 

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warning: ANGST, so much angst, I LOVE ANGST lol, Wordy as hell hehehe, tension,  unresolved feelings, implications of cheating,  SMUT, sexual content. 18+

NOT PROOFREAD 

Word count: 3.6k (oops)

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2021

Max Verstappen’s shoes and clothes were starting to collect dust in the closet. His towels unused for weeks, his toothbrush next to hers on the bathroom counter. Everything seemed to be mocking her. Everywhere she looked remnants of the man she loved were there tormenting her.

Things were coming to an end and she knew it.

She knew it as she sat on the chair on her usual end of the table. Her in her usual place and his space as empty as ever. Dinner served on the table. Two plates of rigatoni and wine served, plated ever so carefully to make everything special. A small homemade cheesecake for dessert sat in the fridge.

The pink peonies in the middle of the table, two petals had already fallen.

Her phone read 10 pm in her shaky hands. He was supposed to be home at 7. Three hours ago and yet not a single text was sent her way. Not an apology, not even an excuse.

Where are you?

Are you ok?

She could only afford herself to send two messages, feeling pathetic for even worrying for somebody who clearly chose to be elsewhere than with her.

A little scrolling on social media, story after story until came the one to pin the nail to the wall.

Lando posted a story (1hr ago)

Max wasn’t one to really party, or to frequent bars or places filled with too many people. He wasn’t like that. Wasn’t one to not tell her of his whereabouts, even if she didn’t ask, he’d tell her. Lately things had been different, even that was an understatement. They had been on two different worlds, hers admittedly still welcomed him but his did not.

While she knew that his life was much like formula 1, fast, busy and chaotic, she didn’t account for the many times she’d be left behind in the midst of it all.

This was one of the times. Seeing him sitting next to a pretty brunette she knew all too well, of the history of her with the Red Bull team. Of her father, of her last partner. And maybe she found comfort in seeing Lando sitting next to him on the other side, but it wasn’t enough of it. She still felt the tightness in her chest.

Kelly was sitting next to him, not her. Not his actual partner.

In the beginning of it all, it was hard to understand, but she came to see that it came with the territory. His life was fast and their love would have to keep up. She would have to keep up.

But it had become increasingly harder and harder. The missed dates, the lack of texts and calls, the missed opportunities of spending time together. She missed him terribly and he was so nonchalant. Distant even at many times and her heart ached.

His life was chaos and she was his sanity, retaining him to the ground, enveloping him in a love that granted him comfort. At least that’s how it had been at first.

God, but his life relished on speed even outside the track. The chaos would envelop him and he would get lost in it all. In the clubs, the new people he met on the daily. The models and actresses. In the luxury that came with being a successful formula 1 driver. A world champion.

While she was ever so present, he wasn’t. He wasn’t there at all. Not much like before.

Back then he had been excited by a mere message of hers, any interaction that could be as minor as her liking one of his pictures. The little hearts he’d put under every single one of her pictures. The compliments. The flowers that found their way to her doorstep regardless of where in the world he was. The love that could be seen and felt even by those on the outskirts of it. Once visible and true, now it seemed only a shell of it.

Had it worn off for him? She couldn't even ask herself that. Couldn’t think about it or she’d break even more. Her thoughts were already tearing at her, the seams no longer mendable.

She loved him, but she felt suffocated being in his house. In the large dining room where she sat alone feeling pathetic for even bothering to wear a pretty dress. She felt as pathetic as the uneaten plate of food on his end of the table. She wanted to throw it all in the bin, throw the base on the floor. Scream and cry, but she didn’t want to be that person. She wanted to leave with her dignity.

She would leave it all as it was so he could see that she waited for him as long as she could, but that time had ran out.

She looked around the dining room that felt larger at that moment, got herself up as steady as she could and made her way into his bedroom. It felt stifling being in the room where they had made so many memories only they knew. Engraved in their minds forever even while they were apart.

The space looked as empty as ever. His side of the bed no longer smelled like him after more than a month away. So many weeks and his scent no longer lingered the sheets and pillows to bring the comfort she so desperately needed in those moments she missed him most.

Placing a suitcase on the bed, she began to place the few belongings she kept at his place. Her clothes, perfumes, shoes. The toothbrush that always had its place next to his was thrown into the bin. Everything that would warn him that she was no longer taking part in a space that no longer felt hers.

She couldn’t lie to herself any longer. Not when another brunette was always seemingly at the same events he was, even at his side at times. At first she pinned it on her father’s heavy influence on the sport, or the mutual friends that would always unite them in a way that would have them in a room together. But it was becoming more frequent, her being left behind more and more was not a coincidence.

The tears were flowing and she couldn’t pack fast enough. Her blurred vision making it difficult to see what garments she was even grabbing. How bunched up the clothes were in the shallow spaces of the suitcase. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t even hear the footsteps of the man she adored at the door.

Max’s azure eyes ogled at the suitcase on the bed, the woman he’d cast aside time and time again stuffing the clothes into it. 

“What is going on?” Was all he could muster. She flinched and turned around immediately.

Max stood there with his customary blue jeans and white shirt. His hair slightly smoothed back. His eyes were wide watching as the girl’s puffy eyes rolled at his question.

“What does it look like I’m doing, Max?”

“Obviously you’re packing, but for what?” His attitude even off the track could get under her skin at times. This was one of those times when maybe an apology would be a good start. An explanation as to why he didn’t show up once again, as to why their dinner went cold and the candles on the dining room table had died.

“Because this,” She pointed at him and back to herself. “This isn’t working anymore.”

The man couldn’t walk fast enough towards her and grab her by the waist. She whimpered at the intrusion and how foreign it felt after weeks without him. Yet she still looked up at him and met his eyes for what she knew would probably be the last time.

“Max.” She sighed. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. You’ve been gone and literally the day that you’re back you don’t even remember that I made plans for us here. That I told you I would make you your favorite food and we’d spend the evening in, just us two.”

She was fucking crying and she hated it. Hated that a man had her in her feelings like this. But it had been a relationship nonetheless, a good one at times that still had its ups and downs. One that had her experience things she never thought she would.

He was silent.

“And yet you don’t say anything. You don’t give me an apology, an excuse, you’re not giving me anything. I know that you went out with your friends instead, if you could even call that to your newfound friendship with Kelly.”

“That’s not…That’s not it. I’m sorry. I really am. I’m just shocked at seeing you like this.”

She stayed silent too. Waiting for more than just an apology and quite frankly being in his embrace the way she was, she felt uneasy like she was betraying herself and everything she wanted to say.

“My phone died and I couldn’t contact you. They invited me last minute and were hounding me to go, I had no way to get out. You know how Lando is. I told myself I’d leave after one drink and that I wouldn’t eat much so I could come back. But one drink turned into two and I lost track of time.”

“That’s starting to happen quite a lot.” He winced at her comment. He knew it was true. How his mind was dwindling these days. Occupied with tasks, with meetings, with new friendships that had sparked as he traveled to different countries. With his outings, with a certain brunette whose presence became frequent at events.

How small talks progressed to mingling around to stay by each other’s side. How those talks turned into going for drinks, for dinners. It was friendly, he told himself. He knew better than to lie to himself, how there were always underlying motives behind every move and every word shared.

“And you still avoid talking about her.” She tried to push away from his embrace but he was too strong, feeling suffocated with a man whose love was faltering. Whose body she kissed and touched on the very bed they were standing next to.

She looked away from him for the very first time that night and turned her attention to the bed. They had fucked each other more times than she could count there. Made it their own space, their little haven and now it had been weeks since they had laid there together. She hadn’t touched him in weeks and seeing him again made her relieve all those moments again.

Her eyes were still teary, skin hot with pent up anger and disappointment and yet she was still thinking of how his lips were that same pale pink and full, his cerulean eyes wide, his hair so damn soft. And she would be lying to herself if she didn’t wish things were different. That he had come in through that door with his wrinkly smiley eyes and that it would all be pure happiness like many times before.

The thing was that it wasn’t.

Things were different now regardless of how much she still desired him. How she still loved him.  How having his mere hands at her waist stirred the butterflies in her stomach. But it was no longer just her and Max. Something had shifted in him lately. Attention elsewhere, mind wandering.

“She’s just a friend.” He reassured, one of his hands had moved from her waist to her face to make her look at him again. His breath hot on her face.

“I saw that she was at your little dinner. Sitting next to you as always.” She didn’t mean to sound so jealous. Surely, she had a right to be, but she didn’t want to show him how much of an effect it had on her.

“I didn’t invite her.”

“Sure you didn’t, Max. I don’t need the lies.”

“You’re my petal. I don’t want anybody else.” Why was he calling her that now. His favorite petname for her, adoring and private just for them both. To calm her down and reel her in again and avoid the topic she wanted to discuss.

“Your petal is wilting, Max.”

She paused.

“You’re not the Max I fell in love with. The old Max would’ve taken Lando’s phone and called me when your phone died, would’ve made sure I was the one sitting next to you, not another woman. My Max would’ve…” Her voice was shaky as she watches his eyes fall to the ground, his hand had fallen from her face.

“My Max would’ve made sure to see me as soon as he landed.  You’re not the same anymore and I don’t understand why. And you know what? Maybe I don’t want to know anymore so this hurts less.”

“Fuck baby... I’m sorry for hurting you these last couple of weeks. I’m a shitty person sometimes, I know.”

One of his hands held her jaw softly while his other hand touched her cheek tilting her head to look at him, to see that his eyes were teary too. They stared at each other for what felt like hours, an intense silence ensuing around them. The tension heavy as the couple who’d spent weeks apart were only inches away from one another in a room that held their best moments.

One of them made the move first, maybe it was him or her, it was too fast as their lips met for a kiss that was bruising. Weeks of pent up sadness, want and desire combined their movements of desperation as he clawed at the back of her legs, securing them around his waist.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” He said in between kisses. His voice hoarse as he walked around the bed and dropped her on it. Still on top of her not wanting to part from her for even one second or he felt as though she’d slip through his fingers. She was letting him touch her, letting him spread her legs apart as his fingers moved the flimsy material of her underwear to the side, finding the little nub that he missed and starting the same rhythm that always had her writhing in his grasp.

“I hate you for making me feel like this.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” His fingers rubbed against her most private part, her slick already coating his fingers as he continued to touch her the way he knew she liked.

“You are the worst.” She was breathing hard as they pulled away from one another, eyes still sad and cheeks stear stained. He kissed the corner of her eyes, her eyes fluttering close as he became the sensible man she missed so much. He kissed her cheeks as though he was erasing the tears he’d caused.

“I am.” His voice was so low as their lips met again. His middle finger had entered her slick and it had been more than a month for her, she felt like she was seeing stars with just his hands. It had been much less for him, but this one really felt like home.

Admittedly his words carried more weight than he could admit. How nights could get so lonely as he traveled to different countries. One was almost always around, sneaking glances and how it had turned into lingering looks and then into so much more as the days passed. But she wasn’t like his girl, no one could ever come close to the actual feeling of home. How home was the girl in Monaco who loved him and kept him grounded, reminding him of what was important in life.

He was desperate to feel more of her. To be inside her. With his fingers pumping inside her for a bit more, he freed himself from his jeans clumsily. The garment falling to the floor along with his boxers, her panties had followed and within seconds his fingers had been replaced with his throbbing member.

He would be lying if his eyes didn’t roll back and a sigh of relief didn’t leave his lips as he felt her warm walls engulf him. She was letting him have her, to fuck her senseless. Moaning below him as he fucked her into the matress with his harsh movements. He hadn’t even given her time to adjust to him again, feeling so desperate to just fuck away the pain and sadness out of them both.

To him this was his way of making it up to her, of them making up and that things would be ok. To her this was a moment of shameful weakness. This wasn’t making up for her.

“I fucking love you, I’m sorry baby.” His hot breath was on her face as he looked down at her. She stayed silent instead maneuvering her fingers to tangle themselves in his hair making their lips meet again in a heated kiss that shared the same tension as that of the movements of their bodies below.

The room in a way felt like before again, didn’t carry that stifling and unbalanced feeling as before. It smelled like sex, sweat and their perfume combined once again. Much like the times before when they finally saw each other again, they always found themselves in this very room showing each other how much they had missed each other.

His movements were harsh. They almost always were when his trips away from Monaco were long. She was a mess below him, moaning into his mouth as he fucked into her harder, his fingers almost bruising at her legs. It was liberating for him this way, for her to feel how desperate he felt to make it up to her.

It was a mess of limbs, a heady of juices falling onto the bed below, of skin slapping against one another. It was all pornographic as best as she felt herself crumble into the pressure that had built itself inside her and washed over her in torrents as she pulled from his lips to cry out his name.

His movements became shallow and less turbulent as his own release was starting to pent up inside him, wanting nothing but to fill her with his cum. When he did, with tense muscles all he could do was groan in pure content as he filled his girl with his heavy cum. It felt like it had been so long without her and he realized how she much he needed her.

He fell at her side on the bed once he’d cleaned her up with a towel. Her little whimpers at the feel of the soft towel on her sensitive area had made him wince at the realization that maybe he had been a bit too rough this time.

But once he’d found his way to nestle to her side, she had gotten up and placed her underwear again. Fixing her wrinkled dress again to its old state.

“What--What are you doing?”

“Leaving.”

“What?” He said incredulously, his own body pushing off the bed and placing his own garments of clothing back on.

She started zipping up the brown suitcase which had luckily for her not fallen off the bed despite the mess they had made on the bed.

“That was a moment of weakness for me. I know there’s more to what you’re letting on. I’m not letting that go. I know there’s more to you and Kelly than what you’re telling me. Why you’ve been pulling away from me lately.”

“It’s not the distance because we’ve dealt with that plenty. Our relationship wasn’t filled with excuses, missed calls or late text messages like it is now. You’ve been pushing me away and now I’m not the person you’re most excited to see, Max. I see that. Regardless of us having just had sex or not, I wasn’t the first person you wanted to see today.”

“You’re my girlfriend, you’re always the first person I want to see.”

“You haven’t made it seem like that for a while now.”

“It was a mistake. Today and all those times I’ve failed to communicate, I’m sorry. This life is hard sometimes, I get so lost in it at times. You’re the one person that keeps me sane and keeps me grounded.”

“I’m not that person for you anymore, Max. I see it now.” Those little droplets she hated so much and wanted to avoid began falling down her cheeks yet again. With trembling hands she grabbed the suitcase from the bed and began making her way out of the room.

Max felt desperate again. His heart felt like it was clawing at his throat, beating so rapidly as he watched the woman he’d been taking for granted start walking away from him and his life.

He was close behind, following her through the hallway into his living room. Pleading with her as the apologies fell from his lips, his own eyes were watery. He really was losing her for his own stupid choices.

He realized then that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. His garden had began wilting, he’d foregone watering it, the petals fallen off the pretty flower he had once cherished and cared for.

“You’ll always be that person for me. I don’t want you to leave, petal. I really need you.”

She was crying as she continued the short trek to the front door. Hearing him plead for her this way was painful. But there was more to what he was letting on, more to what  him and that woman shared and she couldn’t falter. Not this time.

“It’s clear you’ve already found my replacement.” Was all she could bring herself to say without her voice giving out on her. She didn’t turn back to look at him once as she pulled the door open and closed it after herself.

Hope you guy like this angst piece I wrote in a day! Might have its errors here and there but I love angst 🤭 and I also have been really enjoying some Max Verstappen hehehe

[jasperhaleobsessed]

Dancing with the Cowboy

Jasper Hale x GN reader (requested by anon)

Notes: Sorry this took me forever I've been preparing for the holidays and school's been a bit stressful the last week or two. Thank You so much for your patience! :) This is my first x reader fic so please be nice! Posted this by accident oops! But it's fine it was practically done anyways! Not heavily edit sorry in advanced! Hope you still like it! :)

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 853

Tagging some mutuals/friends cause I need some love since this is my first x reader fic! @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @twilightsaga123412 @nobody0805 @naolvshan

You smiled to yourself as you popped in your ear buds. It was finally your 'me' time in the day. And to say the least today was exhausting and you needed some music in your life. Excitement rushed through your veins, it was finally time to listen to your favorite album and your favorite artist. You were bubbling with excitement, you just couldn’t wait. You unlocked your phone and tapped on your music app. You scrolled until you found your favorite album. Reputation by Taylor Swift. Out of her discography rep was most definitely your favorite and the best out of her other albums in your honest opinion. It was different and unique from the rest of her work that’s what made it special. Of course the rest of her discography was amazing but this album held a special place in your heart. 

This album always pumped you up. It always brought a smile to your face when you were down. When you were sad it made everything better. They say books can take you to magical places but in your case it wasn’t a book, It was Reputation and any of Taylor Swift’s music. Her music was magical in your eyes, her lyrics were like poetry, they’re beautiful. They’re amazing. It’s what got you through the good and bad. But it wasn’t just her music that helped a certain cowboy, helped as well. You blush at the thought of your boyfriend, he always had this effect on you. You tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the thought of your boyfriend. You also couldn’t help but feel excited to see him in the next 30 minutes. Currently it is 2:30 and he said he’d be at your place at 3:00. So you have about 30 minutes to listen to tswift and relax. This sounded perfect. You headed towards your room, you twisted the doorknob and flicked the lightswitch. 

Once you stepped into your room you plopped onto your soft, comfy bed. You hit play on Reputation and the first track started to play …Ready for it? The song started to play and after a minute you couldn’t help but move from your bed. It was a difficult move since your covers and pillows were ever so soft and comforted you greatly. But suddenly you were in the mood for a little dance even if you weren’t the best, at the end of the day it was all about having fun. You started to shuffle your feet, a giggle escaped your lips as you continued to shake your hips trying to match the rhythm of the song. Dancing hasn’t always been your forte and you haven’t always enjoyed it but when you're alone and not judged by others it feels good. It also helped you were listening to rep. Suddenly you felt a strong arms wrap around your waist. You squealed in surprise. And you may or may not be very, very ticklish. You whipped your head around to meet a pair of golden eyes. You put a hand over your heart, it raced fast. 

You swat his arm, “You scared the crap out of me Jazz.” He chuckled at your response. “Sorry Darlin’ didn’t mean to startle ya.” He smiled dazzlingly at you. 

You pulled your earbuds out of your ears to hear him better. You quickly pause your music and toss your phone on your bed. You admired his smile, you could never stay mad at him long. 

You shake your head and a small smile graces your face. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be here until 3:00?” You question, raising your eyebrow. 

“Sorry darlin’ I missed you too much.” 

“You just saw me like an hour ago, you know!” 

“Well excuse me darlin’ but I missed you and I’ll take any chance to see you.” You smiled at him like a dork. You blushed and closed the gap between the two of you. You pressed your lips against his cold ones. It made you shiver and yet it was a wonderful feeling. A warm feeling blossomed in your chest as you kissed him. You pulled away and giggled, you looked up at him and you couldn't help but look deep into his honey eyes. He smiled warmly at you, and caressed your cheek. “I also may or may not have felt that you're a bit exhausted and I wanted to do anything to help ya.”

Your heart melts, it's official you have the sweetest boyfriend. “Aww thank you Jasper, that is so sweet and considerate of you. I love you.” He beams and you lean in and hug him tightly. 

“May I have this dance?” You smiled at him and took his hand. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed play. The beat of lover came on, it was one of your favorites. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and you rested your hand on his chest. You both swayed together and danced to the slow beat. 

You felt glad he came over. He always came when you needed him. It really helped that he could feel what you felt, it may or may not have come in handy at times. He has this wonderful talent of taking away your worries and making everything better. He had the best hugs and always knew the right words to say He really was the perfect boyfriend.

The End. 

[unreliablesnake]

You're mine (Tangerine x reader)

Summary: It always begins with a drink, continues with something stupid, and ends in the bedroom. But when you having a boyfriend endangers your situationship, Tangerine decides to show you who you belong to.

Note: I was listening to Bad Memories months ago and had this idea. Today I finished this story. I hope you'll like it. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.

Warning: if you squint, there's a smutish part. f!reader. i didn't do any proofreading. oops.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Lemon warned.

Tangerine didn’t care much about these words while he buttoned up his vest. It was past nine when he had called to see if you were up to going out and having some fun with him, and ever since then, Lemon had done nothing but voice his concern regarding this little plan of his.

And just as he put on his favorite striped blue jacket, Lemon went on. “You go out with her, you drink a lot, you do some stupid shit, and then you spend the next weeks dwelling on her going back to whatever guy she’s fucking at the moment,” he explained.

“I’m not dwelling on anything, for fuck's sake,” Tangerine stated with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t care about who she’s with, I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Lemon snorted at this. “Then why do you always look like a kicked puppy whenever you see pictures of her and her boyfriend on social media?” he asked with a questioning look.

He opened his mouth to respond to this, but eventually Tangerine decided to remain silent. It wasn’t worth the fight, he was in too good of a mood for that. So he picked up his phone from the coffee table, waved goodbye, and left the apartment they shared.

As he was heading to the bar where you were supposed to meet, Lemon’s words came to his mind to haunt him. He would have never admitted it, but his brother was right. He hated to see you with someone else despite your relationship always being casual.

The cool spring air helped him calm down, the barely detectable panic about what would happen after tonight disappearing without a trace. You were good for him, especially after spending a lot of time doing job after job. You were his stress relief, a little vixen who could make him feel oh-so-good with just one intoxicating kiss.

And tonight he wanted to take his time enjoying you in every possible way, from drinking to sex, he had several ideas about how to fill the night. You were usually down for anything, that was one of the things he fucking loved about you. He had once stolen a motorcycle someone left unattended when you were out together, while another time you broke into a public bath to skinny dip in the middle of the night.

Inside the bar he sat down at a table, his phone in hand as he waited for you to arrive. He was early, he knew that, but he simply couldn't wait to see you again. Fuck, maybe Lemon was right, maybe he was taking it a little more seriously than he should have.

After all, he was painfully aware of the lack of posts on your social media accounts. In the past two weeks or so you hadn't posted a damn thing, so he had no idea what was going on in your life.

And then, after about fifteen minutes of agonizing waiting, his eyes finally fell on you. You were breathtaking in the tight red dress you were wearing, sliding through the crowd with ease and grace, and his mouth was already watering at the thought of having you at his mercy at one point tonight.

“Well, hello, stranger,” you greeted him happily, moving closer to give him a hug once he stood up.

Tangerine let his arms wrap around you a little tighter than usual, palms flat against your back as he pulled you into his chest. He inhaled the scent of your perfume, then let his lips brush your cheek as he pulled away.

You didn't make a big deal out of this move of his, in fact, you acted like nothing even happened. When you let go of him and stepped back to put your purse on the table, he felt terrible from the sudden lack of contact. Normally you would be all over him by now, what the hell was different this time?

“Is everything okay?” he asked cautiously.

You flashed a bright and beautiful smile at him. “Everything's great. I'll get a drink then we can talk.”

He raised his hand to stop you from leaving. “No, please, let me handle that. The usual?” You nodded without thinking. “I'll be right back.”

There was no ring on your finger, he checked that. So if you weren't engaged, then why were you keeping your distance? Were you in a serious relationship? Shaking his head with a groan, Tangerine walked over to the bar and tried to get these thoughts out of his mind. He wasn't in love with you, why would it matter if you were seeing someone?

It had been four months since you had last met, maybe you just needed a drink or two to loosen up a bit. Yes, this must have been it.

When he returned with your drink, he saw you type something on your phone with a loving smile on your lips. He had seen that smile in photos before every time you were in a serious relationship. The little green-eyed monster awakened inside him, making him angry that you had someone in your life now.

He came to a sudden halt a few feet from the table as realization hit him like a train. He did care about whether or not you were in a relationship with someone else. Fuck, that was never the plan. This was supposed to be a casual thing, just two adults having fun every now and then without emotions being involved.

Maybe he should focus on having a perfectly innocent conversation with you, and once his glass becomes empty, he should leave and go to another bar to pick up someone who was available. Just a one-night stand to release some stress, nothing more.

“Tan, you okay?” you asked when you put down the phone with a frown.

He put on a fake smile and nodded. “Yeah, I'm good, just thought I saw someone I know over there,” he lied. Once he handed you your cocktail, he took his place and folded his hands on the table. “What's going on with you lately? You barely post anything on social media, I'm not used to that.”

You let out a laugh before taking a sip of your drink. “My boyfriend likes to keep his private life private. Thought I should try what that's like. So far so good,” you reported to his surprise.

You had always been the type of woman who wasn't afraid to show off online, making your friends and acquaintances jealous for you having such an exciting life. You didn't have a nine-to-five job, you were living off of the money you inherited from your late and rich uncle who had no children or wife, but liked you very much.

“So it's pretty serious, huh? I'm surprised. Even in serious relationships you never had a problem with living your life like you wanted. And never cared about having fun with whoever you liked,” Tangerine added, immediately regretting being this straightforward without discussing what would happen later tonight.

“Yeah, well, people change. I was a bitch for cheating on my exes. I would never do this to Oliver,” you told him with a sigh.

He flinched when he heard the last part. “He has a name. Good to know.”

Suddenly you leaned forward and narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you jealous?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, hoping this would be enough for now. But you didn't buy it. “I know this was a booty call, Tan, but I literally wrote it in the message that I'm meeting you as a friend this time. You didn't reply so I thought you were okay with this,” you told him with a hand on your forehead.

“You never sent me that message,” he said as he picked up his phone and opened the messaging app to show you the conversation.

And sure enough, you quickly realized he never received that one. You glanced at your own device and let out a groan when you noticed the goddamn app didn't send it. “I'm so sorry. I feel stupid.”

Tangerine reached out to put a hand on yours. “You're not stupid. But answer me this. Does he fuck you as good as I do?” he asked, deciding that being bold was the right move in this game if he wanted to get his fix from you. But you didn't answer, you didn't even look him in the eye. “Come on, love, answer me. Does he make you come as hard and as many times as I do?”

When you still refused to answer, he let go of your hand so he could pull his chair next to yours to wrap an arm around your shoulder while his other hand grabbed your chin. He leaned so close to you that his lips almost touched yours. You froze like a deer in the headlights, your eyes locked on his piercing blue ones.

“Just one more night. One more, and if you still don't want anything from me, I'll disappear for good,” he told you quietly, but with such confidence that he already knew he won.

But you hesitated. You still hesitated and he hated it. You hadn't been like this before, back in the day you would have said yes without thinking. So he did the only thing he could think of–he kissed you. His lips were moving slowly against yours, tongue swiping over your bottom lip to gain access to your mouth.

“Tan,” you tried weakly as you pushed him away a little.

This only made him more determined to get you. So he put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you closer again, gripping you tightly enough to make it impossible to escape. You gave in eventually, your lips moving in perfect sync, just like in the good old days. This was all he wanted, you submitting to him once again.

Just when you buried your fingers in his neatly combed hair, you moved on to kiss his jaw before you moved closer to his ear. “I fucking hate you,” you whispered.

“Not for long, trust me,” he said with a satisfied smirk when he looked you in the eye.

Since you had a serious relationship now, you couldn't go to your place so the neighbors wouldn't accidentally talk about your little affair, while his home was also out of the question because Lemon was there. So he did the only thing he could think of and took you to a nearby hotel. He was looking for something fancy, something that would be good enough for you.

He ordered champagne, but only after the first glass he was all over you again and you didn't stop him. Tonight was all about proving to you he put you first, that drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you with only his fingers and mouth was all he wanted.

Then came the begging. You were whining weakly under his touch, overstimulated and needy, eventually begging him to finally fuck you. And Tangerine was more than happy to give you what you asked for, ready to make you cock drunk and brainless. Once he was done with you, you wouldn't even remember that stupid boyfriend of yours.

In the morning he woke up to a phone buzzing nearby. It wasn't his, he knew that since it was on the nightstand, so it must have been yours. He glanced over at you, but you were still sleeping, so he got out of bed to check your bag. When he saw the name Oliver on the screen, he couldn't hold back a laugh.

A laugh that successfully woke you up.

“What are you doing?” you asked groggily as you rubbed your eyes.

Tangerine showed you the phone. “Your boyfriend wants to talk to you. Do you wanna talk to him?” When you opened your mouth to respond, he was quick to interrupt you. “Or we can forget he called and pick up where we left off last night,” he offered with a mischievous smile.

Three hours later he stumbled through the front door of his apartment, meeting Lemon in the living room. He had been watching TV, but now his eyes were focused on him, the disapproving look making Tangerine almost nervous. He raised an eyebrow, waiting to hear the lecture he knew his brother was already preparing in his head.

“Good news or bad news?” was all he asked in the end.

Tangerine flashed a smug smirk at him. “She's still mine.”

[hawkins-losers]

She wears short skirts, I wear tee shirts | Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Robin has a crush on a cheerleader 

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I wrote this in Robin’s pov without realizing...oops. Also, this has been in my drafts since the day I binged season 4 part 1. Sorry it took so long to post/finish

-

Robin Buckley, the girl who liked to be out of the box, had fallen for a high school cliché with lip gloss, a bouncy ponytail and a mini skirt. A fucking cheerleader.

When she told Steve about her little crush on you, he thought it was a joke and laughed…which earned him a smack on the shoulder. Robin was serious. She really did have a crush on you, and it was the worst thing that could happen to her. Actually, getting outed would take the cherry, but her crush on you was next in line.

You weren't a bad person - you were very sweet actually -, but to Robin's eyes, there was no possibility that you could reciprocate her feelings and that’s why it was so terrible. You were at the top of the pyramid, and she was playing trumpet in the school’s band.

While driving to school on Friday morning, Steve was ranting about girls, like always, and Robin was trying to apply mascara without stabbing herself in the eye. A blind person can play the trumpet, but it’s better with two functioning eyes.

‘’Robin! Are you listening?’’ Steve asked, taking his eyes off the road.

‘’Yes. Yes, I am. I-’’

It was false. She was only half listening, concentrated on coating her bottom lashes with mascara.

‘’What did I say?’’

‘’You said something about sex with…Linda.’’

‘’No!’’ Once again, Steve took his eyes off the road. ‘’I’m talking about Heidi.’’

Heidi or Linda, Robin could never remember who was who other than one of them was a blonde and the other a brunette. Which was which? That she did not know the answer.

‘’Cut me some slack, please. Your love life is a labyrinth complexity and it’s seven in the morning and I have to do this stupid pep rally and I woke up looking like a total corpse.’’

‘’You’re worried about a basketball pep rally?’’ Steve raised an eyebrow. ‘’You expect me to believe that?’’

‘’Yeah.’’

Steve scoffed. He wasn’t always the brightest crayon of the box and sometimes made questionable decisions, but he wasn’t that stupid. The basketball pep rally was not why Robin was so stressed and panicked over. It was something else - someone else.

‘’No. We both know what this is about, okay? I’m not buying that bullshit. This is about Y/N.’’

A little smirk curled at the corner of Steve’s lips, seeing the defense mode kick on Robin’s face at the mention of you. Bullseye.

‘’Absolutely not.’’

‘’Yes it is, and I think that you should stop pretending to be someone else when you’re around her. You just gotta be yourself.’’

Robin reached into her bag for her lip balm and applied some with her finger. ‘’Are you really quoting my own advices?’’

‘’They worked. Maybe you should listen to yourself more. Look at me, I listened to you and now, boom, I’m back in business.’’

‘’It’s not the same thing,’’ Robin argued.

In a way, it was the same, but in another, it was very different.

She continued. ‘’You ask a girl and she says no, no big deal. Nothing happens. Maybe your ego is a little bruised but I ask out the wrong girl, bam, I'm a town pariah.’’

Although Steve was not in Robin’s shoes sexuality wise, he understood her point of view. Being gay - lesbian, in Robin’s case - was not persued well by the majority of people. It was seen as disgusting and wrong.

‘’Yeah, I buy that, except Y/N is definitely not the wrong girl.’’

‘’She’s a cheerleader. She couldn’t be straighter.’’

‘’She comes to Family Video every Saturday - even when it rains - and only goes to you to check her out. Oh, and remember two weeks ago when I switched shifts with you so I could go on a date with Heidi? Y/N came to rent a movie and asked if you were around while I checked her out. You should’ve seen the disappointment on her face when I told her you weren’t working. She likes you.’’

‘’You’re full of shit.’’

*

In the school’s gymnasium, the band's music echoed while the cheerleading team did their choreography, twirling, spinning, jumping and dancing with their pom-poms. 

Standing in line with the band in the stands, Robin tried balancing her attention between playing her trumpet and watching from afar the bright smile on your face and the Tigers green eye shadow on your eyes. 

The band stopped as the choreography came to an end, and everyone clapped and cheered. 

Then, the cheerleaders vacated the spot and sat by the stands as the headmaster called in the Tigers. Another round of cheers and clapping echoed as the paper was ripped and in came the team, with Jason at the front.

*

During fourth period, Robin’s eyes wandered to you while Mr. Scotts talked about protons and electrons. She should probably be paying attention to the lesson, all this information will likely be asked in the next test, but you were sitting two rows before her and your glossy lips and smooth-soft looking skin were much more interesting. Sorry, Mr. Scotts.

A quiet sigh left Robin's lips. She wished she wasn’t such a hopeless disaster and had the courage to go up to you and talk to you. So far, your exchanges have been limited to ‘did you find everything you wanted?’ and ‘that will be 3.50$’.

It was pathetic.

The bell rang, forcing Robin to break her staring.

Mr. Scotts cut the lesson and everyone gathered their things and left.

After shoving everything in her backpack, Robin was about to leave the classroom when she spotted a white knit cardigan with Tigers green edges on the back-rest of a chair. Your chair. She took the cardigan, a little smile curling at the corner of her lips as she read your embroidered name on the right side, and went after you in the hallway. This was the perfect excuse to talk to you.

She could’ve called your name and you would’ve turned around. It would’ve been easy and not weird, but Robin wasn’t thinking and ended up following you to the bathroom.

‘’Y/N!’’ she called, walking in the girls’ bathroom.

You turned around, pulling your eyebrows together. ‘’Robin? Where you...following me?’’

‘’Yes! No!‘’ she quickly corrected, realizing how it must've sounded. ‘’I mean, yes, but not in a creepy way. Eh...you left your cardigan in class and I saw it on your chair so I took it and followed you to give it back.’’

Your eyes trailed down to the cardigan in Robin’s hand.

You thanked her with a kind smile. ‘’That’s very nice of you. Most people would’ve just left it there.’’

‘’Well, I'm not most people, and I didn't want you to get cold.‘’

Robin wanted to sap herself for saying something so dumb.

You took the cardigan from her, your fingers brushing for a few seconds during the exchange, sending butterflies to Robin's stomach. ‘’Thanks.’’

*

The next day at Family Video, Steve had to listen to Robin’s rant about her short exchange with you while they stocked the shelves with the returned tapes. Well, Steve was stocking the shelves. Robin had been following him around with the same two movies in her hand for the past ten minutes, completely absorbed in her story.

‘’-forgot her cardigan and our fingers touched and-’’

The bell above the door ding-ed and Robin paused her story. She turned her head at the new customer and her throat went dry, seeing you walking in in a mini skirt and a blouse with a funky print.

‘’Hi! Welcome to Family Videos,’’ Steve greeted, his voice echoing through the store and pulling Robin from her trance. ‘’You looking for a movie in particular?’’

He wasn’t always this nice with every customer - unless he was flirting -, but he was trying to help his friend get the girl she was crushing on.

‘’Eh, no. Not really,’’ you replied, brushing him off and walking away to the comedy aisle.

Steve turned his head back to Robin. ''Go talk to her,'' he mouthed over the shelf, his back turned to you.

She shook her head, panic rushing to her eyes. ‘’I can’t.’’

One thing about Robin was that she had no filter and talked a lot when under stress or was nervous. Most people found it pretty annoying and she didn’t want to annoy you by turning into an unstoppable tornado of word vomit.

‘’Just go ask her if she needs any help finding a movie.’’

‘’Why? She already said she didn’t know what she was looking for.’’

‘’Because I asked her. She didn’t want my help,’’ Steve explained.

His theory was ridiculous and Robin wanted to prove to him that he was wrong so she walked up to you. ‘’Do you need any help finding a movie?’’

Your eyes flickered to Robin’s and, much to her surprise, you accepted her help. ‘’Do you have a copy of Ferris Bueller's day off?’’ you asked. ‘’I believe it was released this week, but I can’t seem to find it.’’

Without needing to check in the computer, Robin knew that there was one copy left in the store. And she knew exactly where it was.

‘’We do. It’s at the register though. I was saving it for myself, but I’ll let you have it just because it’s you.’’

She wanted you to see her gesture as her being nice to you - and perhaps a little flirty -, because it really was that. You didn’t need to know that it was actually store policy to give the customers the movies you saved if they asked for them.

‘’Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I can pick another movie-’’

‘’It’s fine.’’ Robin tried not to look too disappointed. ‘’I’ll watch it another day.’’

You and Robin went to the front of the store to retrieve the movie and check you out. ‘’I feel bad for taking your movie. Do you…would you want to watch it with me?’’

‘’With you? As in, at your house?’’ Robin asked, wanting to make sure she got your offer right.

You nodded, a glint in your eyes. ‘’Yeah. I don't have anyone else to watch it with. My friends are more of the Footloose and Pretty in Pink type.’’

Just as Robin was about to scan the movie into the computer, there was a loud bang outside, which spooked you both. Thunder. Then, it began pouring heavily.

‘‘What the hell? It was sunny five minutes ago,’‘ you said.

‘‘It’s Hawkins. Unexpected downpours happen all the time,’’ Robin explained, the town in itself being good enough of an explanation.

They’re usually followed by not so pleasing supernatural surprises, but she didn’t need to add that.

Robin scanned the VHS and you paid your weekly 3.50$. Then, she added, ‘‘You can stay here, you know. Until the rain calms down. You’re gonna get soaked within five seconds if you go out in that rain.’‘

Once again, Robin was just being nice by offering you shelter, but she also didn’t want you to go yet.

‘’What if the rain doesn't stop? Sometimes, it goes on for hours.’’ Your eyes flickered to Robin’s blue ones and held her gaze.

Another clap of thunder echoed, making the lights flicker.

‘‘Looks like we might lose power,’‘ Steve said, louder than necessary. ‘‘I’m gonna go in the backroom and fetch some flashlights, in case the power go out.’‘

‘‘Don’t forget to check if there’s batteries in them!’‘ Robin called out after him.

She knew it was an excuse to give you some alone time with her crush and she was grateful for the help.

Shortly after Steve disappeared, the power went out, plunging the store in the dark. Across the street, you could see that there was power so this must be Steve's doing. Robin was praying you wouldn't notice.

‘’I hate when the power goes out,’’ you said, beginning to feel anxious in the dark.

‘’You can hold my hand if you want, I won’t tell,’’ Robin boldly blurted, the absence of light giving her a boost of confidence. She reached across the counter and you took her hand, tangling your fingers together as butterflies bubbled in Robin’s stomach because she was holding your hand.

A loud clap of thunder hit and you squeezed Robin’s hand. ‘’Sorry. I got a little spooked,’’ you explained with a nervous giggle.

‘’It’s okay.’’

Robin shifted on his feet, trying to fill the silence. What do you do when you’re in the dark with your crush? You ramble facts about thunderstorms.

‘‘Did you know that for every five seconds between the lightning flash and the clap of thunder, the thunderstorm that produced the lightning is one mile away? If the time is decreasing, the storm is moving toward you. If it is increasing, the storm is moving farther away.’’

You shook your head. ‘‘I did not know that.’‘

‘‘My father taught me this when I was little. I used to be scared of thunder so he made it a game for me. We’d sit on the porch and count the seconds together.’‘

‘’That’s sweet. My father taught me how to drive. I dented the car when backing in our driveway and ruined my mother’s flowers. He never let me sit in the driver seat again. I think it's best for everyone's safety.’’

Robin laughed at your anecdote. ‘’Don’t worry. I can’t drive either. I haven’t tried, but it took me six months longer to learn to walk as a baby and I still can't run right, so I’d rather not find out how I drive.’’

Suddenly, the power returned, lighting the store with its bright neon lights. You let go of Robin's hand, making the latter pout at the loss.

‘‘See you later, Robin.’‘ You picked the VHS from the counter and, just before pushing the door open, you paused. ‘‘We still have a movie to watch, remember?’‘

-

​Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3  @cursedandromedablack  @Slashersimpfor  @savagejane1   @wh0reforbucknasty   @eddiemunson-slut   @slvdsjjk  @hehehehannahthings  @dreamdancers-world  @grace-loux  @iamharrystyleslover  @matildavol6  @Original_babababoo  @eddiemunsonbby  @notbeforelong  @lexi-2004 @violetrainbow412-blog  @tatespillows  @alwayslexii  @lilygreennn   @milkiane  @imahomeslice  @bunnygrl16 @cwritesforfun @marauders3rawh0re  @your-mom21 @parkersmyth @voguesir @milkiane @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @lilygreennn @alexxavicry @charlie-chick  @wandamaximoffs-deadchild  @horrorstreet  @rmeddar123  @Pastel-abyss-x @lil-tracys  @lanalanabanana 

Robin Buckley taglist: @uhidklol-26 @prettyplant0   @ran-rap   @eddiemvunsongf    @batorchids222  @scarlet-kazuha  @saphmoth  @uhidklol-26  @you-makeme-crazier-blog  @spongebob-in-the-upsidedown  @swiftbyul  @xenon54xe  @tribute-101  @starstruckspring  @whyamihere2673  @moonlight-imagines  @p40l44 @moonlight-imagines   @ofherscarlettwitchways  @pastelbabygirl19 @eddiemunsonbby  @bitterbyfletcher @i-could-be-lonely-with-you @chrisxevans-seb @robinbuckleyluvr @lol-lol—idk @satinselenite  @missmaxmayfield  @soph69420world  

[dragonflylady77]

Mr Steve and The Monster Hunter

It's finally there, time to post my fic for @bigbangharringrove (thank you mods for all your work for this event!)

I've been working so hard on this one... I even did some doodles of a couple of scenes from it (I might post them once I've posted all 6 chapters).

Art by @adelacreations (so very excited about this!!).

I want to thank @ihni for Olivia’s name, @spaceofentropy for noticing I'd forgotten about Will (oops!) and @akioukun for Cindy’s name

Also on Ao3

Steve gets the surprise of his life when one of his students gets picked up by her father. A man who Steve thought had died on the dirty floor of Starcourt Mall fifteen years ago.  Billy Hargrove is alive... and a dad. He runs a security company called HellGrove and he hunts monsters in the Upside Down for a living.  When Billy opens a portal into the Upside Down in Robin and Heather’s backyard, Steve follows because he wants answers.

Chapter 1 - Mr Steve isn't a boy

Steve is looking forward to the weekend after a long week teaching six-year-olds. Having the school trip to the zoo the same week as the talent show is not something he’s keen to do again in a hurry and he let his principal know as much. 

He smiles as the last of the kids rush past him, waving him goodbye as they squeeze in the doorway before running down the hallway towards the exit, a spring in their step. He notices Olivia is still in the classroom and he walks over to her desk.

“Everything okay, Olivia?” he asks as she shoves the last of her drawings in her backpack. He reminds himself for the hundredth time to ask Robin where she found the Hawkins Lifeguard backpack because he didn’t know such an item existed and he was a lifeguard at Hawkins Community Pool for a few summers, both while he was in high school, and after, during summer breaks from university.

He knows he isn’t supposed to have favorites but Robin and Heather’s daughter is one of the brightest students he’d had in his ten years of teaching elementary school and she is extremely funny to boot, at a level that her classmates usually don’t get.

“Yep, Mr Steve, I’m spending the weekend with my dad so I want to show him all my work.”

“Your dad?” Steve asks, confused. As far as he knows, the little girl only has her two mums. Of course, Steve figures there has to have been a man involved in the process, he did pay some attention in biology class, but he never asked. Heather still scares him a little and he isn’t as close to Robin as they were fifteen years ago.

Nope, not thinking about it.

“Yes, he works a lot all over the country so I don’t see him very much.”

“Then I bet you’re very excited to see him!” 

“I haven’t seen him since Christmas, he’s very busy but he rings me when he can,” Olivia says matter-of-factly as she closes her bag. 

“That’s nice,” Steve says, smiling even though he thinks two months is a long time without seeing your child, not that he has any of his own.

“He lives in California, you know,” she adds as she starts walking to the door. 

Steve follows a few steps behind, in a daze, her words unleashing the memories of loud metal, leather and cigarettes, and a blue Camaro.

Nope, not thinking about him.

He watches Olivia step out of the classroom and turns towards the mess he still has to clean before he can go home when the voice coming from the adjoining hallway stops him in his tracks.

“Hey, princess!”

It can’t be. But that voice… He’s heard it before, and those words���

Shaking like a leaf, Steve turns towards the open doorway and takes the three steps that separate him from the owner of the voice.

It isn’t possible. Billy Hargrove is dead, Steve reminds himself. He died at Starcourt Mall fifteen years ago, in what remains the scariest night of Steve’s life. This is just his brain playing tricks on him. 

He steps into the hallway and freezes. The shock of seeing Billy Hargrove, alive and in the flesh, dims Olivia’s gleeful screams.

He looks… Steve feels all the air leave his lungs. Billy looks fucking good for a dead guy. His hair is cut short, some golden curls on the top still, he looks broader in the shoulders, his muscles more defined than they were in high school, not that Steve is looking, but the guy is wearing a t-shirt that looks painted on, okay?

He is also sporting a scar across his left cheek that looks not too recent but doesn’t make him look any less handsome, as well as some gnarly looking, but silver, older, scars on his arms and Steve knows there would be matching ones on his sides and in the middle of his chest, where the Mind Flayer had hit him with its tentacles.

“Pretty boy?” The shock is evident in Billy’s voice. He clearly didn’t expect to see Steve either.

“Daddy, you’re silly. Mr Steve isn’t a boy, he’s my teacher!”

Billy clears his throat and looks down at his daughter. “I can see that, princess.”

Billy Hargrove has a daughter!! What. The. Fuck? 

“Billy. Long time no see.” 

“Mr Steve, you know my daddy?” Olivia is looking between the two of them, trying to work out the connection.

Billy crouches so he is level with Olivia. “Mr Steve went to school with me and your moms, Livi.” He looks around and picks up her cardigan from her hook. “Is that all your stuff?”

“Yes, Daddy. I gotted all the stuff in my bag to show you.”

“That’s great, princess. Can you wait here a minute while I have a super quick chat with Mr Steve?”

She nods. “Can I play the word game on your phone?”

“Sure thing.” 

Once Billy sorts Olivia with her game, he looks at Steve who is still hovering in the doorway and gestures towards the classroom. Steve nods and heads back inside, Billy a few steps behind him.

Steve stops when he reaches his desk, trying to compose himself. He hears Billy behind him and turns around.

“Robin never said—”

“You probably hav—”

They both stop at the same time and Steve knows he’s being awkward but he is not prepared for this. It’s not like he was friends with the guy back in high school, but Billy sacrificed his life to save them that day in1985 so for him to just show up like that is just… Steve doesn’t even know at this stage. He needs time to process. 

“Listen, I have to run, haven’t seen Livi in way too long and I want to make the best of it but if you want to talk, or like, I dunno, have questions for me, here’s my card. Call me.”

Billy pulls out his wallet and hands Steve a business card with a tentative smile. Steve takes it, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. He nods as Billy puts his wallet away.

“See you around, pretty boy.” Billy doesn’t wait for a reply and he heads out. 

Steve hears Olivia’s voice then the chatter moves further away as they walk towards the exit. 

He finally looks down at the card in his hand. It’s dark gray, almost black, with the letters HG in white in the middle. He flips it to find the same monogram on the left then his eyes read over the words, taking them in.

HellGrove Security Consultants

William H. Hargrove

CEO & Head of Security

Followed by a phone number and an email address.

What. 

The. 

Fuck?

***

It’s after midnight and Steve is lying on his bed, flipping Billy’s card over and over, the dim light of his bedside lamp catching on something in the corner of the card. It’s embossed in the same color so he didn’t really notice until now. He brings the card closer so he can have a proper look and…

It’s a demogorgon flower head. 

Motherfucker. 

He grabs his phone to call Robin but then remembers that they’re not really best friends anymore, besides it’s late and she’s a parent now. Olivia did say she was spending the weekend with her dad but Steve isn’t sure what the arrangement is. 

Billy Hargrove is alive and he’s a dad. 

More questions than answers and it’s making Steve want to scream. So he sends Robin a message, figuring that she can choose to reply if she’s awake. 

He hopes she does.

Steve: So I met Olivia’s dad at pick up today. 

Immediately the reply box shows three littles dots. Steve holds his breath for a bit but has to give up after a minute. Either Robin is typing a novel-length explanation or she is not sure what to say.

Robin: Surprise? <cringe emoji>

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve yells in the empty room, his frustration at boiling point. His phone dings again and he looks to see what else Robin had to say.

Robin: Come over for lunch tomorrow. We’ll talk.

Steve sends a brief text saying he’ll be there then puts his phone down and switches to his laptop, giving into the temptation to visit HellGrove.com.

The website mentions the usual stuff: the various services offered (most of which mean little to Steve), reviews from clients as well a page about the company and its staff. Steve keeps looking on the main page for the freaky flower and finally finds it, hidden on the Reviews page when his cursor hovers in the bottom left corner and HOLY FUCK!

There’s no photos of the Upside Down but the hand drawn illustration in the banner is enough for Steve to suppress a shudder at the memories. There are a handful of anonymous written accounts by survivors who were rescued by HellGrove and reports about unsuccessful rescue missions. The wording is vague but, to someone who’s experienced it first hand, it’s clear they’re talking about the Upside Down.

Steve goes back to the home page and clicks on Staff. His eyes immediately focus on the black and white photo of Billy. It must have been taken some time ago because the scar on his face is missing. 

The short bio tells Steve that William H. Hargrove joined the Marines at eighteen and left after six years to start his own security company. Steve scrolls down and he is surprised and a bit shocked to find out that Max, Lucas, Will and El also work for Billy. And some guy named Argyle, who apparently has no last name.

He vaguely remembers Dustin mentioning that Lucas got a job in California after college and he knew El and the Byers already lived over there. He feels bad when he realizes he hasn’t thought about Max in years. He ponders reaching out to Dustin but that would open a can of worms and even more questions.

He closes his laptop and dumps it on the other side of the bed and settles on his side to go to sleep.

The feeling of an arm around his waist pulls Steve from his slumber. He gasps when he realizes there’s a (warm!) body behind him, the owner of which is dragging him closer and dropping a string of kisses on his shoulder.

Steve can’t remember the last time he shared a bed with someone, especially while being naked, though he is sure he was wearing pajamas earlier. The kisses morph into a bite and a needy moan escapes his lips when he feels teeth nibbling on his skin. The embrace around his middle tightens and Steve’s hand drifts to the one holding him, fingers locking with the ones of the man behind him. Because it is a man, of that Steve has no doubt.

He looks down, noticing the silver scars in the soft glow of his bedside lamp. “Billy?”

“Sorry I woke you up, pretty boy,” comes the hushed whisper from behind him.

“No, it’s okay. What are yo—” The words die in his throat when Billy moves their linked hands south. Steve can feel Billy harden against his ass as their hands start stroking his dick and he shivers.

Billy gives a light squeeze and Steve rolls his hips, arching his back and groaning when Billy bites down on the crook of his neck.

“Oh god… Billy…”

Steve lets go of Billy’s hand to bury his fingers in golden curls instead. It’s been so long since the hand touching him wasn’t his that the pleasure of it is blinding in its intensity.

He moans loudly, earning himself another bite from Billy.

“Shhhh, pretty boy, not so loud, you’ll wake the baby.”

Steve sinks his teeth in his bottom lip in an effort to be quiet, so he doesn’t wake this baby he doesn’t remember having. His entire focus is on not making noise while Billy does unspeakable things to his body. He shudders; he’s so close already…

Billy notices, because of course he does, he always did notice things, and his hand starts moving faster, his closed fist squeezing the head of Steve’s cock on the upstroke. It’s slick, it’s heady, and too soon, Steve can feel his orgasm rushing at him.

He comes with a shout he can’t silence, but when he opens his eyes again, he’s alone in his bed. It’s his hand around his cock, his mess in his pajama pants. 

Chest still heaving, he quickly cleans up using his pants and gets back into bed wearing a clean pair, reeling from the shocked realization that he wants Billy Hargrove. And a baby.

What the fuck?

Chapter 2

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks For The Sub (ksj) | Chapter One

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Chapter One length: 11-14k 18,371 (OOPS LOL)

Release date: Fri. January 19, 2024.

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: After a clip of you sucking at video games goes viral, you've become somewhat famous, with thousands of subscribers now tuning in each week to see you play. Overnight, you've gone from a sexually frustrated grad student who reads smut in her room to a gamer girl (or rather, a not-gamer girl). This would have been the perfect job, except it was never the job you wanted. Desperate for money to pay for grad school, you bounce between your new gig and working at a local restaurant to pay the bills, where your hot coworker-now-boss Seokjin plays many of the lead roles in your sexual fantasies.

Seokjin, two years post losing his fiancé and job within the same day, is tired of the rut he's dug himself into and wants to start over. Now 30 years old, he's stuck managing his family's restaurant where he harbors an insanely inappropriate crush on you on top of carrying one hell of a secret: Seokjin is also known as Jin, a successful gay-for-pay camboy on the streaming site Worldwide Handsome.

When the stress of the upcoming semester and the pressure to stream becomes more than you can handle, you seek out some much-needed stress relief online, only to discover a man who looks a little too much like your boss is staring right back at you.

Warnings for Chapter One: Swearing, cheating (not between main characters), big age gap between lesser characters that can be uncomfy, sex work, gay sex work when the worker is actually not gay (but everyone is chill about it), <- allusions to queer fetishization bc of this, feelings of shame and guilt, feelings of failure/depression, improper restaurant safety procedures, the existential crisis of your late-20s/30s that we all seem to go through, off-handed references to kpop culture including fanfics because I'm a clown and need to call us out sometimes, silly literary tropes, references to pregnancy (NOT reeader), boss-employee power dynamics, allusions to queer BTS members or relationships, cameos of au Seventeen Members (Wonwoo and y/n are besties). NSFW sex stuff: big dick Seokjin (of course), Seokjin with rolled shirt sleeves and cutting things in a kitchen, Daddy Dom Seokjin makes himself known, blindfolds, camming (obviously), f/m masturbation, lots of dirty talk, sex toys, degradation kink, praise kink, sexual fantasies at the worst moment, kink exploration, a lot cum (sorry), I mention the omegaverse as a joke, a sparkly pink dildo, seokjin has a massive collection of toys and he intends to use them, seokjin and reader are constantly horny, reader is kind of inexperienced, implied exhibitionism kink, implied voyeurism, implied public sex.

a/n: it's here (and longer than I intended but oh well!) this fic is inspired by a combination of fics from the lovely writing community on here, the copious amounts of smut I read, a dabble of my friends or my own experience, & the high drama of kdramas. I felt really compelled to write this fic after rereading "tip 143 (for ∞ seconds of love)" by minilouvre on ao3. I feel like the camboy/person trope is so fun to explore and I wanted to try my own take on it with our Seokjin, who doesn't seem to get as many fics written about him but absolutely deserves it. I also wanted to create space for a fic that explores the weird transition of late 20s-30s that both BTS and I (and maybe many of you) have experienced in the last few years. I hope you enjoy! I keep my inbox open, so lmk your thoughts!

xo - h

That’s it baby cum for me. 

Such a good little slut for Daddy.

Wish that dildo was my cock. 

Fuck this is so hot.

The tip jar was going wild. The mute button tapped long ago, tonight was by far the most successful night camming Seokjin had ever had. He would definitely be able to afford that new gaming PC after this. 

Thank god. After three hours streaming, he was getting tired of riding the glittery pink dildo. It was cute–a Christmas gift from one of his loyal subscribers– but admittedly, he hadn’t prepped well enough before putting it in an hour ago, and when he let out a pained groan as he sank down on it, he immediately knew he would be feeling it tomorrow, and maybe the next day. 

His only consolation was the five new top-tier subscriptions he’d received while experiencing searing hot pain. He’d clearly appealed to someone’s kink. Well, there was always something for everyone. 

Seokjin knew this well. Today was his two-year anniversary since his first livestream on Worldwide Handsome, an international gay live cam site. During those two years he had seen just about every kink requested, from wax play to autoerotic asphyxiation to something called the omegaverse; he’d sifted through the internet and researched enough on each request to decide which ones he’d be willing to perform, and which kinks were too much outside of his comfort zone. 

Now, with an apartment full of gifted costumes and drawers full of just about every type of sex toy known to the human population (and perhaps even some aliens if those toys held any accuracy), it was obvious that Seokjin was a knowledgeable and successful camboy who could fulfill so many men’s fantasies.

Except for the fact that Seokjin wasn’t actually gay. 

Which is, as it turns out, also something people are into. 

Two Years Ago

It wasn’t that Seokjin ever intended to be a gay sex cam worker, much less a camboy at all, but two years, four months, three weeks, and twelve hours ago, Seokjin hopped on a plane after finishing a week-long conference in Los Angeles. He’d booked the first flight out, eager to come home to his fiancé. 

During the week, he hadn’t heard much from her. He understood, of course. She’d mentioned before he left that during that week she would be busy catching up on work and finalizing a really important project with a looming deadline. She’d been stressed about it the morning he left, practically shoving him out the door with his suitcase. 

But he missed her desperately, especially with the distance between them, and he was hoping he could regain some of that intimacy by trying phone sex. They’d been having less sex recently, probably from the stress of work, but he still craved her every single day, just like he did when they were in college. 

For most of his and Soon Yi’s relationship, they were insatiable. In college, they were known for being embarrassingly public in their displays of affection, with Yoongi once catching them in the kitchen at a party with Soon Yi’s hand down Seokjin’s pants and Seokjin’s hands up Soon Yi’s shirt. At first, Seokjin wondered if he always felt so horny because of his raging hormones and the fact that Soon Yi was the first person he’d had sex with. But even three years later, on the night he’d proposed, they had to leave the restaurant he rented out so they could have sex in the car. 

Soon Yi was charming. She matched Seokjin’s wit, always ready to keep up with a joke and take it to the next level. She fit in effortlessly with his group of friends, remembering their birthdays and always showing up with a tiny treat for them, even if they hated celebrating. His parents adored her the moment they met her. She was frequently fawned over when she visited his work to bring him lunch or to just stop by and say hello. 

When his boss, Mr. Choi met her during the company’s annual gala, he told Seokjin she was enchanting, she was the moon that lit up the evening sky. Mr. Choi was also incredibly drunk when he said this, but he wasn’t wrong. 

Soon Yi glowed through Seokjin’s darkest nights like the moon. 

That’s why when she denied every video call request he made during his trip, Seokjin knew something was wrong. He felt desperate and needy, something he’d never experienced during their relationship. 

As he laid in his hotel bed, touching himself to their memories, a strange need overtook him: he wanted to remind her that despite all the work stress, they always got through everything together and ultimately, being intimate might help with reconnection. 

So at the end of his boring conference, he flew back, planning on surprising her when she got home with a delicious meal and sexy massage. Maybe he’d even use those silly novelty heart-shaped handcuffs Jungkook got him as a gag gift. 

He was ready to rekindle his love for the moon. 

What Seokjin wasn’t ready for was the fact that when he walked through the door of his house, the only moon he saw was that of Mr. Choi’s naked ass as he thrust into Soon Yi on the dining room table. 

As it became immediately apparent, Soon Yi’s “work project” was clearly what was playing out before him as he watched the only woman he’d ever been in love with writhe in ecstasy underneath his much older work superior. 

It would have been one thing to lose his fiancé, but in witnessing this entanglement, Seokjin also knew he’d lost his job. Due to the blur of his memory, his brain trying to erase what he’d seen, he wasn’t entirely sure when they realized he was home. However, by the time he had grabbed another duffel with some fresh, non work-related clothes from his dresser–after he breezed past his unmade bed that probably didn’t smell like him anymore–Soon Yi and Mr. Choi were half dressed and sheepishly waiting for him near the entry.

Seokjin couldn’t bring himself to look either of them in the eyes as he stated his resignation letter would be on Mr. Choi’s desk the following morning. 

When he arrived at Jimin and Jungkook’s apartment to crash, that’s when reality set in. What would he do now? He had no house to live in, no job to make money from, and he just lost the love of his life. 

His head was splitting from the idea of car payments, a mortgage under his name for a place he wouldn’t be living in, having to tell his parents, calling the wedding venue and paying that awful cancellation fee on top of not getting his deposit back. The extra zeros in his bank account were depleting fast and it wasn’t like he would be able to sleep on Jimin and Jungkook’s couch forever. 

After two weeks of dodging family phone calls, desperately applying to every job that didn’t sound like a scam, waking up in the middle of the night from the lumpiness of the couch or Jungkook’s horrible snoring, Seokjin felt like he was out of options. 

“I’m going to call my parents and tell them. Maybe I can work at the restaurant for the time being while I wait for callbacks. I have some money in my savings for my own apartment. I just can’t keep doing this,” he said. 

“Hyung, are you sure? You know that we don’t mind you being here as long as you need. Really, it’s not an issue.” Jimin was gentle as always, the concern on his face knitting his eyebrows together. 

But Seokjin knew he was avoiding the inevitable, so when he nodded and then called his parents, their warm voices on the other end felt like a sign he’d made the right decision after all.  

The next week, Seokjin began working at his family’s restaurant, filling in for shifts that were short, typically in the kitchen. Chopping and prepping the food for the chefs, dish washing, and anything that kept his hands busy were welcome distractions from the painful reminder of what awaited him outside of the restaurant. 

Soon Yi was pregnant. Seokjin found out one day when he stopped by to grab a load of his things to bring to his new apartment. While both he and Soon Yi agreed to sell the house, it appeared she was taking longer than him to pack. He figured this was because she would be moving in with Mr. Choi, who lived in the penthouse of a luxury apartment complex downtown. 

During their meeting with the real estate agent, Soon Yi had scribbled her new contact information and mailing address onto some forms with Mr. Choi’s details. Wealthy people always operated on their own timeline, one where they could hire a moving company to have everything neatly packed and stored within hours. 

Seokjin, however, was limited to an ongoing loop of back and forth where he crammed his car full of silverware, lamps, and his MapleStory figure collection Soon Yi once mocked him for collecting. As Seokjin continued to pack away his belongings, he saw it. In the guest bathroom outside of the kitchen, there were two positive pregnancy tests in the garbage can. 

Soon Yi was pregnant and the father wasn’t him. The last time they’d had sex was three months ago. She would have known by now if that were the case. 

A wave of nausea rushed over him, and somewhere between bouts of gagging and wiping tears from his eyes, Seokjin realized that things were truly over. 

Two months passed, and still he couldn’t find a job. While the restaurant gig was taking care of some of his bills, it was only a matter of time before Seokjin would be unable to take care of himself. At 28 years old, he’d have to move back in with his parents, which was next to impossible in terms of space, not to mention the fact that his brother and wife were living with them while their apartment was being renovated to better accommodate a life transition of their own: they were expecting their first child.  

Given his semi-recent discovery, being around a pregnant woman was something Seokjin didn’t particularly want a reminder of. 

“I don’t know what to do. Something has to give,” he said one day as he sat in Yoongi’s living room. A thick coat of snow was covering the earth outside, though from the sweat running down the back of Seokjin’s neck, you would never be able to tell. Yoongi always kept his home at the exact opposite of the climate outside, trying to quell the possibility he would have to experience any physical discomfort if he dared to ever leave his house, which he rarely did.

His friends all sat around him, quietly sipping their whisky or beer while the flashing light from the TV casted a kaleidoscope of colors across the coffee table. Hoseok nudged Taehyung, who’d fallen asleep at some point between the long pauses in conversation. Seokjin couldn’t blame him. 

It was late, much later than the invitation Yoongi extended typically lasted, but this meetup was different. Everyone had always known Seokjin to be optimistic. From a goofy dad-joke-making 18 year old until now, he’d consistently been a source of light. When Taehyung’s grandmother died a few years back, it was Seokjin who made him first smile again with a spot-on impression of his own halmoni as they slurped bowls of naengmyeon.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his smile fading quickly from his face after cracking a joke. His jokes were also darker, less silly and eye-rolling and more self-deprecating and sarcastic. It was like his life was draining from him before their eyes, and it was becoming nearly impossible to stomach. 

But concern doesn’t always lead to action, which is why they were sitting around in Yoongi’s living room hoping the whisky would give them some inspiration to find a solution to Seokjin’s problem that he wouldn’t immediately turn down. They’d scoured job sites together earlier, and anything in Seokjin’s former profession only led to him suggesting his next boss better be a woman or else he might have to keep his future girlfriend away from corporate events or dining tables. Other careers in his field were met with similar disdain. 

Seokjin wasn’t always this way. In college, he didn’t know what kind of job he wanted or where he wanted to end up, so he majored in acting, hoping that it would lead him where he would eventually develop some sense of passion. 

In a sense it did. During an internship with an entertainment company shortly after he graduated, his attention to detail, natural charisma, and flexibility showcased a skillset he didn’t even know he had, which resulted in him being offered a position in their corporate headquarters the following fall. He’d been there ever since. 

But Seokjin didn’t want to return to the same life he’d had. So much of his life up to this point had been the same, and it clearly didn’t work out for him, so why continue on? The only issue was that he once again felt like he was 18, trying to decide on a path to follow when he didn’t even know who he was anymore. Nothing was appealing to him. 

“What about video game streaming?” Namjoon suggested. “You love games, and you have all the equipment. You used to talk about doing that all the time.” 

“Yeah, hyung. You’re also really good at talking and stuff, so it would be fun to watch you do it!” Taehyung perked up at this suggestion, shaking off his sleepiness to contribute to the conversation. “I’ve seen how much streamers make with all their sponsorships and stuff, they don’t even have to work another job!”

The energy in the room picked up slightly as they waited expectantly for an answer. 

Seokjin grunted. “Okay, look. I would love to do that. That’s my dream job. But you’re forgetting something important. Those streamers didn’t just jump on the internet one day and then got thousands of subscribers and sponsorships to pay their bills overnight. Some of them took years to build up their following before they even started making money off of it. A lot of people actually lose money from game streaming. And I need money now. I don’t have that kind of time!”

Taehyung deflated, settling himself back into the couch next to Hoseok, who gave him a tender pat on his thigh. 

“But what if…what if you did a kind of streaming that made you money pretty much right away?” Jungkook offered quietly. 

Seokjin glanced over at his youngest friend, who was holding his empty whisky glass in his hands instead of looking at him. 

“What do you mean? Is there some kind of gaming livestream service that does that?” Now Seojkin was curious. 

“Um, well, not for gaming, exactly. I was just thinking. Um, you could always do like an OnlyFans or something? I have a friend who does it and she sometimes makes $1000 a night. And that would take care of–”

“You mean being a camboy? Jungkook, seriously? Listen I know we’ve all had a bit to drink, but that’s a ridiculous idea.” Seokjin snorted. “Besides, the market is flooded with people doing their own sex work. Maybe your friend is just really pretty or something to make that much from it, but I highly doubt I would make any money off OnlyFans because no one would even see me!” 

Jungkook nursed his bottom lip between his teeth as he was dismissed, his body mirroring Taehyung as he fell back into the couch cushions. 

“Hyung is right,” Jimin added finally, having spent most of the night settled quietly next to an even quieter Yoongi. “He wouldn’t make much money on OnlyFans. All the men on there are either ugly or buff, and Seokjin-hyung looks way too gay to appeal to that market.” 

Yoongi, who was sipping his whisky as Jimin spoke, spluttered into the glass as he lost his composure, falling into a fit of laughter. From the other side of the room, Hoseok joined in, clapping and gasping for air between laughs.

“Excuse me? What the hell does that even mean? Yah, stop laughing! It’s not funny!” Seokjin fought the smile that was trying to form on his lips. Okay, it was a little funny.

“Well, hyung, isn’t it obvious? Remember that one time we went to a gay bar and all those guys I tried to pick up tried to pick you up instead?” Jimin sighed as he glanced at Seokjin before reaching across the coffee table to grab a handful of cheese balls. 

“We’ve been over this. They weren’t trying to pick me up. They just told me I was really handsome and had fuckable lips. And they’re not wrong!” 

“Wait when did you guys go to a gay bar? Where was I?” Yoongi cleared his throat, finally recovering from his laughing fit. 

“You didn’t want to come, remember? I don’t know why you’re asking this, you never want to go anywhere. Anyway that’s besides the point. Seokjin-hyung and I went to the gay bar and he stole all of the guys I was hitting on because they wanted to make him their baby girl!”

Hoseok wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Yeah, no, hyung I’m sorry but if Jimin is being passed up at a gay bar for you, you clearly give off that vibe. I can see it. You look all soft and plushy and like you would be the perfect bottom.” 

Seokjin tried to fight off the heat that was creeping up his neck into his ears, but after a few glasses of whisky, and the ungodly temperature of the room,  it was a failed mission to avoid being flushed.

Jimin shot a glare at Hoseok, who shrugged. “What? I meant it as a compliment!” 

“Well, thanks I guess. Now I know I look like I’m gay. That doesn’t seem to solve my problem here!” Seokjin looked over at Namjoon for backup, but all Namjoon seemed to be able to do was give him an apologetic smile.

 “No, I know, I know. We got off topic.” Jimin said, “Sort of. Listen, like I said before you wouldn’t be successful on OnlyFans, just because of what they market. But you could always market yourself differently. And I’m thinking, if you really need to make money fast, you could always work with what you’ve got going for you.”

The entire room went silent. 

“Wait,” Namjoon said, “you don’t mean…” His eyes flitted to Seokjin and widened in alarm. 

Slowly, everyone shifted as they realized what Jimin was suggesting, Seokjin evidently being the last one. 

How was he supposed to work with what he had when what he had was apparently drawing a different crowd of people from the one he was interested in? What did Jimin mean by marketing himself differently? Was he supposed to just stream on websites that were exclusively for gay men? 

Oh. That’s exactly what Jimin was saying. 

“Wh-Jimin what the fuck? You mean I should be a gay camboy? I know we just talked about me being attractive to men, but I’m not interested in them that way!”

Jimin huffed. “Well obviously I know you’re not gay. Otherwise we might not be in this situation.” 

Seokjin winced. 

“Sorry, that was unfair. It’s just…hyung, you’ve been so not like yourself lately. And you’re right, something needs to change. I know you’re not gay, but this still could help. Haven’t you heard of gay for pay? Like in porn and stuff a bunch of straight actors will fuck each other or some gay guy because it pays more than straight porn. It’s the same thing.”

“Only you don’t have to actually fuck anyone. Maybe you should remind him of that,” Yoongi added. 

“Right, exactly! Look, you don’t have to do it. But it could help you get by and pay bills in the meantime until you find something else that you want to do. And there’s a lot of sites where you can stream even once and get a direct payout the next day. It might be worth a shot.”

Seokjin thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound completely awful. From what he’d seen from the times he saw cam sites out of curiosity, most of what happened was masturbating and talking to people. And he didn’t hate people. But something about it made him nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’d be okay with being watched. That seems embarrassing.” 

“Oh please, the number of times you and Soon Yi fucked basically in public is astronomical. You’re practically an exhibitionist,” Hoseok teased. 

“That was different! I was with her! Now it would be everyone watching just me up close and personal. Namjoon-ah, talk some sense into them. This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if it actually is, hyung,” Namjoon said lightly. “Jimin-ah and Hobi have made some good points. And I think…I think if you weren’t even just a little bit curious you would have immediately said no instead of going back and forth with them over it like how you flat out said no to the other stuff. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy because it’s been a little while and you are trying to heal through the breakup and stuff, but you also don’t have to do it or you can do it once and change your mind after if you want. 

“It just doesn’t seem to me like this is the worst option for you. You get to talk to people, you can maybe have fun. You don’t see the people on the other side anyway, so if you wanted to pretend they were girls instead of guys you could, or turn off the comments probably? It’s not real sex though. And even if it was, is that so wrong? It’s not like you would be cheating on Soon Yi for doing this. I mean-”

“Thanks Hyung! I think we get it!” Jimin interjected, raising his eyebrows at Namjoon as if to say shut the fuck up. 

Seokjin felt his stomach sink. Is this why he was panicked at the thought? It wasn’t real sex, but it almost felt like he would be doing something wrong by doing this. Not morally against himself, but someone else. Maybe he was still hanging on to Soon Yi in ways he didn’t fully realize. 

He felt almost like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest and forbidding him from moving on. What would happen then if he tried doing this for himself? Would the weight still feel the same? He wanted to know. 

“Ah, fine, I’ll think about it.” He looked over at Yoongi, who looked relieved that the conversation was nearing its end. “You have anything to add to this? A final voice of reason?” 

Yoongi snorted as he jumped up to stretch. “Nah. Except, as your former roommate, ‘Seok’s got a point about the exhibitionism thing. You were way too into showing me your dick all the time and walking around naked when we roomed together.” 

The room erupted into laughter, Seokjin himself joining. This time his smile didn’t immediately fall from his face. 

Slowly, everyone else stood, bodies unwinding from furniture and each other. While Jimin ordered Jungkook and himself a taxi, Seokjin waited with him. 

“My only issue is, how do I pretend to be gay? Won’t they know I’m not?” 

Jimin scoffed as he nudged a sleepy and tipsy Jungkook into his shoes. “I don’t know hyung. You have an acting degree. Use it.”

A few weeks later, Seokjin held his first stream, nervously engaging with the handful of viewers trickling in and tried to deflect the discomfort he felt in his new spotlight.

“Um, hi everyone. My name’s Jin. Thanks for coming. You can probably tell, but this is my first time and I’m really nervous. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

Seokjin decided to shorten his name for his streams to help him feel like he was embodying a different persona, someone named Jin who may actually be gay. It wasn’t a big change, but it was nice to give himself some separation from Seokjin, the guy who was doing gay for pay to afford a new life.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s suggestion for Seokjin to act wasn’t as easy to implement as he’d hoped. Within the first half hour, viewers of his stream had noticed he was still nervous, and started asking him questions to get him to unwind, and hopefully undress. 

“Ah, yeah, uh, anal. I’ve done it once or twice, it’s nice.” It wasn’t a lie, he’d tried anal a few times with Soon Yi and did find it nice, but he also knew that this wasn’t what the question was asking. 

“Do I have a boyfriend? No, I’m single.” 

Slowly he began undressing, the heat of his half-truths causing him to feel like he was burning up. 

“Are you really gay? Well, what kind of question is that? I’m here aren’t I?” 

That question seemed to satisfy his audience for another half hour, until a new thread of people trickled in, asking him the same questions. He was running out of ways to answer.

I don’t care if you’re straight. You’re still hot. 

When he read this comment, he exhaled deeply. And from that one reaction, a flurry of others joined in. 

Yeah, idc either. You’re still so pretty. 

So hot if u were straight. Maybe I’d convert u. ;)

I’d let you put it into my ass and let you pretend it was a pussy.

For some reason, these comments began to fuel him. The attention was kind of nice. It reminded him of how he used to feel. 

Maybe he didn’t need to act gay to get what he wanted. Maybe he could just enjoy the pleasure of the compliments and company and see what happened from there? The weight he had been carrying around in his chest was feeling a bit lighter, and the comments were helping distract him from the pinches of guilt that he was doing something wrong. Because he wasn’t. 

Here, he was Jin, a sexy, flirty guy who could shine in the sky of his own making. 

Jin, the moon. 

That’s it. He was the moon.

Present

“That’s it, give it to me. Please, I’m gonna cum.” Seokjin hoped the words he moaned at his camera were true. He was so tired, and he wanted to be free from the stupid dildo.  

Lately, Seojkin has been having a hard time cumming on stream. He wasn’t sure why. For so long it had never been an issue, but streaming had begun feeling less like a fun way to relieve stress and more like an actual job. 

Never before was he so popular with his stream, and while it’s nice to see a larger deposit being made into his bank account each week, every time he came home from the restaurant and knew he was scheduled to do a cam show, his stomach knotted up with dread. 

The last time he felt this feeling was a little over two years ago, when hopping on planes to fly to mundane conferences or sitting in board rooms for morning meetings consumed all his time. Even during the period he was jobless, there was a tiny part of him relishing the fact that the work-related dread was over. 

And it returned with a vengeance. Seokjin tried everything, ventured into new kinks and even the game features of the website with the hope that he would feel the rush he used to love from streaming. But nothing really worked. It was now just his job.

He didn’t even want to stream for so long tonight, but because it was his anniversary, he wanted to make sure he ended on a good note to thank his viewers. 

One thing Seokjin’s viewers loved was seeing him cum. It was the part of his stream when he always earned the most tips. Jimin had been right. 

If Seokjin knew anything now, it’s that he had many assets worth using to finance his life, and his pretty face coupled with his big dick seemed to work for him.

But even as he stroked himself, precum dripping down the head of his cock, and even though he was riding the dildo in a way that would hit his prostate and finally give him an easy out, he could feel the edge pulling away.

“Fuck,” he grunted. He was losing it. He doubled down, rocking his hips to see if hitting a different sweet spot would do the trick. But it was to no avail; his cock was softening.

On his nightstand, his phone pinged, which only could mean one thing. Seokjin always turned his do not disturb mode on during his work hours, only allowing phone calls from his family or one alert from an app to pierce through the silence. This one was the alert.

It meant Y/N was online and you had just started a live stream of your own. 

You were one of this month’s top gaming streamers, bringing in more viewers than Seokjin had ever received during his top months of streaming. You were popular not because you were good, but because you were the exact opposite.

You were awful at most games you played, jolting at jumpscares over and over, losing in first rounds of Fall Guys or Dead by Daylight. One time you jumped into a game of Fortnite and were eliminated by a potty-mouthed child the second you landed. Your jaw hung open as the tiny, high pitched voice called you a bitchass before falling into a fit of laughter that had Seokjin himself in tears. 

You were inspiring. Sexy. You received dozens of comments every stream about how pretty you were or how great your laugh was, which you often didn’t read out loud but always offered a humble nod and show of thanks when you did. There was something about you that hit up the world around you, and though he wouldn’t so much as utter it out loud, Seokjin had a massive crush on you.

But Seokjin was also sort-of-not-really your manager. Unlike all the people pining over you in your comment section wishing they knew you in real life, Seokjin actually did. He saw you three times a week at his family’s restaurant that he was strong-armed into managing while his parents took the opportunity to finally travel and see other parts of the world. 

Seokjin stayed, not because he needed the money. Not that his pay was all that much anyway. 

Camming was incredibly lucrative for him, cementing his income in a way that allowed him to pay rent in a very nice apartment downtown. Seokjin was also someone who had always been smart with his finances and knew how to invest in the best trends. 

When his house with Yoon Si finally sold (after four months of her taking her sweet time to gather her last belongings and sign off on him putting it on the market), Seokjin took his cut and applied it toward a better streaming setup and some lower level stocks…and a special edition MapleStory figurine to celebrate the new chapter in his life. 

Seokjin’s family never seemed to question how he was able to afford his fancy apartment given how much money he made at their business. Well, they did ask once, but Seokjin orchestrated some simple lie saying he worked in cryptocurrency, and that seemed to be enough of an explanation for his family. No one wants to know how crypto works, which in the end worked in his favor. 

He’d planned to leave the restaurant about 8 months ago, but then you showed up one day asking about a job. The restaurant was within walking distance to your university, where you were getting your master’s degree in early childhood education. While the program you were enrolled in had some funding, you’d told Seokjin’s mother you were a student and in need of work. The following Monday, Seokjin walked in and found you with an apron tied around your waist, your bright eyes and smile shining back at him. He couldn’t bring himself to leave after that. 

A few months after you’d started working there, Seokjin and you had become somewhat friends, sharing stories about past jobs (minus some key details on Seokjin’s part), student observations you had to do for school, and your interests. You mentioned casually you were a livestreamer for gaming, never alluding to how popular you actually were.

Eventually, Seokjin convinced you to give him your username, batting his eyelashes dramatically and promising he would be your cheerleader. For some reason, that seemed to work, and later that night, Seokjin tuned in to your stream, one man among the thousands. From that moment on he let his crush become a safe thing where, like his own viewers, he could fantasize from behind a screen. Maybe soon he would actually ask you out on a date, taking your coworker relationship and transforming it into something more.

And then a month ago his parents left, leaving him with the roles and responsibility of manager. Which meant he was an authority figure who could arguably do whatever he wanted. Similar to how his boss in a way was an authority figure who could get whatever he wanted. That idea turned Seokjin’s stomach sour. He could never do anything about this crush now, not while you worked underneath him. It was too familiar and distorted, and he never wanted you to be in the position he was once in. It was completely inappropriate.

But try telling his dick that.  

Two days ago, Seokjin witnessed you in the kitchen bending over to pick up onion peels that had fallen to the ground. You definitely weren’t aware, but your skirt had ridden up a bit while you were working, and that meant he could see a tiniest delicate trim of lace on your blush colored panties. 

And despite the fact that Seokjin was 30 years old and had believed he’d gotten past his boner-in-public-just-from-seeing-underwear era during his teen years, he was evidently wrong. Because those panties and soft looking curve of ass didn’t just belong to anyone; they belonged to you.

This wasn’t the only time he got hard for you at work. Sometimes on days when there were no customers, he would watch you study at one of the tables, where you were prone to stretching your body after long periods of staring down, trying to unknot the tense muscles caused by sitting almost completely still as you tried to comprehend what you were reading. 

During those stretches, you would often let out the most sexual moans and sighs as you felt relief and it was enough to have Seokjin tucking himself under his belt like a horny school boy. God, what he would do to hear you moan underneath him, because of him. 

He thought about recording you stretching. He was addicted to your voice, your soft sighs. It would be so easy to just “leave” his phone in the booth behind you. Then he could hear it forever while he imagined what else made you moan. Did you like your nipples sucked? Did you sigh when you were being stretched open and felt full? How did you taste? 

And then Seokjin pulled himself together and realized how sickeningly perverted he was to be thinking about you like this as he stood hard and aching in the middle of his parents’ fucking restaurant.

He wanted you. So much so that now as he worked his cock in his fist, he let himself fall more into fantasy, one where you were watching, curious about the many toys and gifts around his apartment, wondering how you could reach the limits of what you wanted and needed to make you scream. He imagined that across town, you weren’t firing up your computer for a night of cozy games, but rubbing your pussy at the same speed he was stroking himself, wet and begging for him to cum all over those gorgeous tits, that wet tongue–

Seokjin groaned as he came, his entire body trembling as a thick load erupted all over his hands, chin, and chest. Normally he could control the direction to minimize the mess but this orgasm caught him a bit off guard, almost completely lost until it crept up with a burning need and coated him. He hadn’t felt that good in a while. 

As he panted and focused his eyes back onto the screen, his comments were flooded with praise and tips, viewers exclaiming how this might have been his best orgasm they’ve ever seen, which was saying a lot considering some of his subscribers had been with him from the very beginning, and there had been some pretty fantastic orgasms. 

He wouldn’t deny it, though. He felt looser in his joints, calm washing over him and breaking apart the bitterness that was in his gut from how lackluster streaming had been recently. He wiped his chin with a grin and reached for the towel next to him, ready to wrap up his show. As he delivered his thank yous, one comment drifting through the chat stopped him dead in his tracks. His post-orgasmic high was crashing as panic flittered into his stomach. 

Did you guys hear him moaning a name as he came? Who the fuck is Y/N?

She had to leave. If the king couldn’t overcome his malice, she knew she couldn’t stay. No amount of love she had for his son was going to make him see that. She’d told him she loved him despite the scar that ran over his left eye and down his soft cheek. She vowed to be good enough to marry him, do whatever it took. Yet the king and queen had laughed at her, had their guard hold his foot on her back so she couldn't stand up from her deep bow. 

Laughed as they stood from their thrones to welcome the guest’s arrival: the consort for their son. The prince stood with them, silent as he followed them through the open doors. Quiet like how he used to be back in the first days of when she met him last summer. In memory, she couldn’t even fathom how he was anything like the man she’d grown to love. Yet, looking up from the pulp of the floor, she’d seen him return to that man. 

Hadn’t the days she’d spent walking those palace gardens with him been enough? They’d stood together under the plum blossom tree in the middle of winter and he’d promised that he would love her even while the buds were hibernating. 

“We can watch them become flowers together in the spring,” he’d said. 

He had taken her to his bed that night. Used his sensuous tongue to lap at her sweet nectar. He devoured her heart and soul. Climaxed with her and held her through the heavy snow.

Where was that man now? She didn’t know.

She waited until well after nightfall, when even the latest bird twitterings were silenced by the call of sleep. She knew she couldn’t bring much, but she managed to slip into the kitchen after dinner to pull together a few scraps for the road. Where would she even go? The nearest village was at least a two-day walk and if he sent his men for her, she knew word would spread before she’d even arrived. 

Unless he didn’t send anyone for her, she realized, her stomach dropping with nausea. He wouldn’t send anyone for her. She knew this. It’s why Prince August stood in the throne room, lethal as ever, even with no sword in his belt. August. Sugar. Whichever person he decided he was in the moment. Her nickname for him didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t sweet. His desire for power showed the bitterness in his heart. He had given in to his parents’ wishes, despite the times he swore he would never give them the satisfaction.

He was cruel. But even worse, she believed he wouldn’t be. She was a fool.

It was the darkest part of the night when she left the servant’s quarters. She’d miss the ladies and all their kindness, but she knew she couldn’t serve August his breakfast in his bedchamber after this. After knowing that the sheets she once laid in with him were now being laid in by someone else. 

She took the back route, near the interior of the garden, ducking behind the ornamental shrubs and skirting past the watchpost the guards usually abandoned at this hour with ease. All that was left was to make it through the courtyard and she would be free. 

She padded her way along the path. A light breeze of the pre-dawn was catching, fluttering the branches of the newly blossoming trees around her and blowing petals in their wake. She caught one in her fingertips and fought a sob. Plum blossoms.

Should she take one with her? For the memory? So that she could always have a part of him with her? 

No, she decided. It would be too much to remember this. Once she passed through those gates, she would not be the same woman she was. Holding her breath, she let the petal go, hoping wherever the wind carried it, it would find the peace she too was looking for. It swept to the end of the courtyard, over the gate that was now her future. 

This was a sign, she mourned. Not all promises were meant to be kept.

With a final look at the place she’d learned to call home, the man she’d learned to call home, she opened the gate, ready to forge into the unknown. 

“Petal,” she thought she heard his call, his nickname for her. Though when she turned around, he was nowhere to be found. 

She must’ve imagined it, wished for the impossible. As she took steps through the gate, she looked out at the world around her, the plum petal a few feet in front of her. Maybe she would take a piece of him with her, after all. It was too tempting not to. 

She moved, trying to ignore the tug she felt back toward the palace, the invisible string of fate she thought that tied her to August trying to tangle her back in. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t go back. 

She bent down, clutching the petal tenderly in her palms and letting the first tears fall. 

“So that’s it, hm? After all that, you weren’t even going to wish me goodbye.” 

She rose swiftly, whipping around to the voice’s owner. 

There, leaning against the outer palace wall, was August. 

The alarm on your phone chimes, pulling you from the book in your lap. You’ve been reading all afternoon, the sun now taking its final bow before plunging the world into darkness. Soon you’ll have to turn the lights on, then it will be time for work. On your only day off. 

You groan, stretching your neck as you allow yourself to come back to reality. 

To some, it would be hard to call your job “work”. Many people dreamed of being professional game streamers. Who wouldn’t want to be paid to sit online, play games, and talk to people? 

You don’t. That’s the problem. 

Your ascent into gaming stardom was a fluke. About 9 months ago, you were in between semesters for your grad program and looking for ways to unwind. Your oldest friend, Wonwoo, was a pretty successful streamer who often hosted game nights to play with his viewers and friends. 

You frequently watched his streams, letting his soft voice be the perfect background noise as you studied and formulated the next lesson plan or behavioral assessment. You’d known Wonwoo for what felt like forever at this point, being his first subscriber, first moderator, and first kiss (not in that order). But your middle school kiss outside of the convenience store never led to anything more than that, as desperately as you’d wanted it to. 

Once he moved across the country, you let your crush die with the distance. The years turned faster and your twenties were spinning by with the revolving door of lovers you’d watch him pine over, cry over, and in one case, almost marry. Streaming then became one of your main forms of connection, and your role as his moderator tied some part of you to him out of loyalty. To imagine him as anything other than a friend now feels ridiculous. 

But that loyalty you have is also to a fault. When Wonwoo’s usual streaming friends bailed one night during a tournament, you subbed in…for a game you didn’t even know how to play. 

And to make matters worse, this was a game that required talking to each other on-stream, which meant you not only sucked major ass at this game, but Wonwoo’s 700 viewers that day were also subjected to your constant frustrated squeaks, swears, and embarrassed maws as you tried to key-smash your way to victory but ended up throwing the entire team’s game with your incompetence. 

Wonwoo wasn’t mad, though many others were. He knew what he was getting into when he agreed, and his streams operated with very few rules: no hate, no spam, and we are in this to have fun. And he did have fun. By the time the first round was over, he and most of the chat were losing it over your commentary. 

As he wiped tears from eyes and took in a breath, he read his comments. “‘Damn, I never heard a chick threaten someone with a plunger like that before’. Yeah, I’ll give it to you, Y/N, you got really creative with your insults in that. Hey, PartyShitty thanks for the sub! ‘I can’t BREATHE’, yeah I’m still trying to get it together. W00000000000000000ziiiiii–damn that’s a lot of zeros in that username–thanks for the 5000 points! ‘Is she hot’ uh, I mean, I don’t— 

“Oh shit, LetsGetIt15, thank you for gifting twenty subs! ‘Please, Y/N, start your own channel. I’ll be the first subscriber.’ Actually, no, I’ll be. But really, that's not a bad idea.”

Wonwoo navigated the rest of his stream with ease that night, but after it was over, he called you to try to convince you to start your own channel. 

“It could help with school at least! Or you could get that special edition of that one book you like with the dragons or the blue alien porn stars or whatever it is.”

“They’re neither of those things, they’re actually–”

“Whatever they are! The book that has people fucking nonstop and some plot. You know, the special edition cover that you keep talking about in your close friend story that you won’t buy?” Wonwoo said. “The point is, if you start streaming you could finally buy it and then stop talking about it and I won’t need to see sections about how hot you think their alien or fairytale or demon whatever cocks are.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at his exasperation. “That won’t stop with me getting that book, just so you know. And if it bothers you so much, I can take you out of the close friend story. I didn’t even know you looked at my stories that much.” You didn’t know he still used Instagram at all actually. He very rarely posted. He mostly lived on his Discord channel talking about games with his subscribers or other friends.

Regardless, it was nice to know that he was trying to be aware of your interests, even if it was incredibly embarrassing. Although the copious amount of smut you read wasn’t something you always wanted to broadcast to the public, you’d still made some friends from online book communities over the last few years and enjoyed keeping them in the loop of your reading list.

Also, Wonwoo had a point. Streaming could help paying some of your school expenses…or get you more books. You told him you’d think about it, and while you weren’t completely in love with the idea of streaming, it did provide you with some steady income until you landed your job at the restaurant.  

After that conversation, you haven’t discussed smut or cocks since, and you’re honestly relieved, not because Wonwoo is hard to talk to about things, but because you are. Which is why streaming always feels a little uncomfortable and your position ironic, because you can barely have conversations successfully unless you really know the person to ramble about your interests to, or you can occasionally eke by with small talk. 

But streaming requires the spotlight being on you in some way at all times. It’s your face that is fixed to the corner of the screen, monitoring your every reaction. It’s your voice that echoes into the mic and responds to your chat. Sure, you have mods and some streamers don’t interact with their chat at all, but you don’t want to be like that. You’ve been on the other side before, and know that most people are just lonely and looking for connection. . 

From the moment you decided to do this, you were aware that because you were now a “gamer girl” you would be subjected to the three extremes of the comment section: chronic oversharers who tell strangers all their personal baggage perhaps in the hope that you will assume some role of therapist to them, people coming to insult your gaming (which is the point so that can’t impact you) or physical appearance, or sexually explicit comments. 

Over the months, you’ve seen many things flitting by on the screen, deleted in haste by your trusty mod squad, but it doesn’t stop the fact that you still see them. 

Those things you can handle. They are impersonal and a direct copy-paste of the same thing.

But when people compliment you? That makes you want to bury yourself under your covers and never come out. Because the compliments are always personal and touching a part of you that is authentic.

The people in your chat want to know you. They want to know what kind of music you like, your favorite foods and books. They ask if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner, compliment your hair or the shirt you’re wearing or your gaming setup. It feels intimate. Almost like you could find these people and touch them and let them know you. 

But they can’t. Because the only thing that drew them to you, the part where you’re this funny, positive gamer chick who sucks at video games but is down for whatever, isn’t real. 

Spring Day Streams Y/N is a persona. You don’t stream because you’re her. You stream because you have to be her in order to survive.  

And now she’s taking up more time. Last month’s streams landed you Streamer of the Month, which thanks to the exposure, brought dozens of new subscribers and thousands of points, and that helped take care of some of your expenses for the new semester. Some. You’re still behind on your credit card bill. 

Also, more people means more expectations for streaming. So you’ve kicked up your streaming schedule from twice weekly to three times a week, with you occasionally hopping onto Wonwoo’s channel even if you aren’t streaming to mod. 

When you aren’t glued to your computer, you’re usually at the restaurant, in a cramped kitchen where you do the prep work, often alongside him, your sexy coworker-but-now-boss, Seokjin. 

The man you are quietly obsessed with. You can’t think about Kim Seokjin without thinking about all the positions you want him to fuck you in. 

Which is also why you’ve been devouring books lately. When you’re home, you throw all your energy into the escapism they provide, especially ones where you can get yourself off to whatever fantasy Seokjin effortlessly slips into. 

For every hot mob boss, corrupt CEO, longterm best friend, dragon-rider, fairy, demon, alien, ghost, or hockey playing love interest you can find, Seokjin is sure to fill the role. A hot merman looking for someone to help him grow legs and something else? Seokjin. A Grinch who inherits his family’s Christmas tree farm and discovers how much he loves to ho ho ho? Seokjin. A god who tears apart the underworld to find his lost lover, and then during the reunion fucks her on the throne of Satan while she wears the crown? All Seokjin. 

Unfortunately, his transition from co worker to boss has made your fantasies all the more dirty. 

It’s been incredibly difficult for you to handle the fact that any flirtation you two previously shared in the months before he was your boss can no longer continue. But it’s also incredibly hot.

Fantasies of him eating you out on the counter have been replaced with the fantasy of him shoving you in the back office and fucking you on the desk while wearing one of those perfect-fitting dress shirts he often parades around in. 

And when he rolls up the sleeves to help in the kitchen? Fuck, it’s humiliating how wet you get.

The entire thing is pathetic really. He’s just standing there half the time, lecturing everyone on proper kitchen hygiene and ensuring one of the cooks doesn’t use expired seasonings for his eomma’s secret sauce. 

And you’re standing next to him clenching your thighs together because when you’re this close, you can just make out the freshness of his cologne and feel the heat of his body close to yours. 

When someone fucks up, he has a tendency to take over, chopping with unmatched precision and self assurance, trying to keep his voice even and usually failing as everything builds in intensity until he’s accidentally speaking at a million miles an hour and lecturing until his face turns red. 

If someone were to pass by the shop, they’d probably mistake his shouting for anger, but you’ve come to understand Seokjin is just passionate about things. Usually when he comes down from his tangent, he’s embarrassed and apologizes, and not long after the entire staff is laughing along with him as he cracks a joke at himself for his inability to tone it down.

Which to you makes him even hotter. Seokjin is able to see his faults and work with them, not against them. He holds himself accountable. He’s nothing like the haughty men you’ve gone on brief dinners with after downloading dating apps for the hundredth time while you’re drunk. He’s actually funny, knowing the right way to use humor and tell jokes, never at someone else’s expense, and definitely without being disgustingly crude. 

All those clowns you suffered through drinks with always made comments and digs at other women or referenced their cock like they were setting up some goofy scene from porn and you would find it hilarious and endearing. 

Seokjin isn’t like that at all. He probably refers to his dick as a penis and would blush to high heavens if he knew how horny you are for him. He’s unwound you, and he has no clue. Maybe if it hadn’t been literal years since you’ve last had sex you could tone it down. 

With working all the time and going to school, it’s already been hard to even go on singular dates here and there. And since the prospects were frankly awful, sex is just something that has had to go onto the back burner for a bit, but you seemed to scorch the fucking pan by forgetting to turn the heat off and now you are burning and hungry. 

With a final sigh, you put the book down, annoyed that you didn’t have time to finish it today or at least get to a good part where you could insert yourself into the role of the palace servant and Seokjin as the Prince. Based on the reviews, there’s sure to be a hot sex scene coming up involving using a sword in a particular way that has piqued your curiosity. 

In a moment of depravity earlier, you’d snaked one hand down the front of your panties to rub a few damp fingers around your clit to take the edge off. 

You check the time on your phone, already aware that you don’t have time to cum before streaming. You already hit the snooze button twice. The spicy stuff will have to wait. 

Defeated, you stand up, turning on the lights in your apartment as the sun finally fades away and the dark creeps in. You eat a bowl of cereal while doing your makeup, what little of it you want to put on. Finally, you fire up your PC, trying to ignore the irritation you’re already experiencing from being so high strung and unsatisfied.

The second this stream is over, you’re going to make sure you cum until you pass out. Until then, it’s time for work.

“At what point am I supposed to become good at this again?” You ask Seokjin as you attempt (and fail) to julienne carrots. 

When you arrived at work at an ungodly hour this morning to prep for the weekend rush, Seokjin had already started the coffee. 

Your empty cup now idles next to your scrap pile of too-wide carrot blocks that’ll have to be pulverized by the blender and repurposed in another recipe. 

Seokjin chuckles as he buzzes about the kitchen, reaching tenderly around you to grab your mug for a refill. 

“That all depends on how much you practice.”

“So should I expect a large carton of carrots to be delivered to my home this evening with the instructions to have them julienned by Monday?” You tease, as you split another carrot down the center, half of it flinging off the prep counter and onto the floor. 

Seokjin smirks and bends down. He picks up the carrot and deposits it into the garbage bin. “Two cartons, actually. Given how many carrots we’ve lost already today, I need to make sure at least some of our inventory lands on the customer’s plate and not just into the trash.”

“How considerate of you,” you chide, and put down the knife, reaching out to accept your newly filled coffee mug. Seokjin’s hands are red from the constant washing and chopping of potatoes, which you recently learned he’s allergic to. 

As well as garlic, and you’ve already voluntarily peeled and minced that for the day. That much you can do without guidance, but anything besides your imprecise chopping is on the list of knife skills Seokjin wants you to improve upon. 

This is fair, given how dangerous your previous cutting methods have been. Once Seokjin saw the way you tried to stab at a watermelon, it was over. Now you often come in an hour and a half early before each shift to practice. 

And to also be alone with Seokjin before he is forced from the kitchen to deal with other duties. 

“Thank you,” you say, as you take the first warm sip and shiver. It’s freezing outside, and it’s only supposed to get worse. 

There’s snow forecasted for the weekend, which could mean one of two things: everyone stays home and avoids driving, or they all leave the house in one show of silent agreement and fill every nook and cranny of the restaurant to order bowls of sundubu jjigae or crisp and hot pajeon. 

Seokjin predicts that because a warm front is moving in afterward, people will utilize one of the only days of snow you’ll likely get this winter to gather together.

Valentine’s Day is soon, and the city has started to prepare. Storefronts have begun switching out new year sale signs for pink and red heart motifs, with spas and restaurants offering couple specials. The perfumeries have moved from campaigns advertising the perfect Christmas gift to ones of sexy, decadent colognes sure to transform a man into his inner beast. 

And then there’s the chocolate. It’s like the air in the neighborhood the restaurant resides in smells different, less greasy and grimy and more sweet. Everywhere you turn there’s pastries, cakes, bonbons, crepes, chocolate dipped nuts and other confections that just looking at makes your teeth sore. 

With the district washing itself in a pink glow, more and more couples have been braving the cold, landing in the restaurant after weighing themselves down with shopping bags. 

You’ve seen what’s in them, often tripping over or kicking at least one bag each shift while you attempt to bring an order to the table and spilling the contents. This year seems to be popular for matching couple outfits. You’ve seen a lot of pairs in their early twenties wearing or recently acquiring sweaters that have the same characters or color combinations. With the temperatures dipping into a bitter chill this week, some have elected to wear cute but inconvenient sets of mittens that allow them to hold hands as they stroll. 

When it snows in the city, the world gets quieter, cleaner. Even if people shuffle around in the bustle of novelty experiences, how they show their love, from brushing the snow off each other’s coats or taking kissing selfies in front of snow fallen trees, it always makes you feel a little softer, a little more at peace. 

Snow is really romantic.

“What?” Seokjin asks, which alerts you to the fact that you’ve been staring at him as you let your thoughts run, a dopey grin splattered across your face. 

“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about how much I love the snow.” You break eye contact, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood your cheeks. 

“Ah, yeah. It’s supposed to start soon,” he looks at you thoughtfully before looking back down at the tofu blocks he’s draining. 

A silence falls on you, the once normal pause now becoming a bit awkward. 

“What do–”

“I just–”

You both stumble over each other, trying to fill the unnatural pause you’ve reached, which has you laughing and Seokjin cracking a wide grin. 

“What were you going to say?” he asks, and then motions for you to get back to your carrot desecrating. 

“Ah nothing. You were going to ask something?”

You slice a carrot, this time less match stick and more shaved. Damn. 

“Oh, um. I was going to ask you what you like about the snow. That thought kind of came from nowhere and I was trying to follow.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying not to offend you. Is he nervous?

Your mouth draws into a thin line. Can you risk saying what you were just thinking? Is it inappropriate to talk about romance in front of your boss, who you’ve thought about kissing in the snow at least three times a day? You don’t want to make him uncomfortable. You’re aware of the ways in which Seokjin’s new position of authority weighs on him. 

While he’s always had more authority due to being the owners’ son, it isn’t like Seokjin walked around the place with a power complex before his promotion. You two had become something akin to friends in the months you’ve worked together, falling into occasional flirty banter as you shuffled around each other to mop floors or wash dishes. 

You know he used to work for a large company a few years ago but quit to help his family with their restaurant. You also know he loves MapleStory and is always showing you his newest splurge from their online shop or the latest piece to his collection. 

He doesn’t have any pets, but sometimes debates getting a dog and then when shown support, he dismisses it with boisterous laughter, talking about how he doesn’t have the time and if he ever wants to get a dog, he will have to buy a house. Usually once he lands on discussions of a house, he gets a little more quiet, perhaps a bit sad.  

He has an older brother who has one child and another on the way, a major reason for his parents’ decision to travel now, before the new baby arrives. His brother and brother’s wife have visited a few times while you were working, but Seokjin’s mother had mentioned that her son and his wife recently moved into a new house outside of the city, and with the new addition joining sometime in the spring, it can be a bit exhausting to pack up the car for a few hours of visiting time. 

While you haven’t experienced Seokjin as an uncle, you know how much he loves being one, excusing himself from the front of the shop to Facetime with his nephew from the back office, where you can hear his voice carry with high pitched impressions and jokes or random songs he babbles to the youngest Kim. 

Knowing him in this way feels a bit awkward now that he’s the one signing your paychecks. Since his transition, he’s been a bit more formal with you, you assume trying to be respectful and professional. 

You understand where he’s coming from, but you miss the past connection you two had formed. And that seems to dictate your response. 

“I like how romantic snow is. How it not only makes the lights twinkle more, but how people do cute things in it. Snowball fights, drinking hot chocolate, building snowmen. They change their behaviors for the snow. To celebrate love in it. Last time it snowed here, I saw one girl push her boyfriend into a snowbank.”

Seokjin laughs as he begins popping the tofu blocks into containers. “That sounds awful,” he says. 

Your heart plummets. “Oh,” you squeak. 

His head darts up to catch your expression and his eyes flash. “Oh, no no! Not like that. I mean, being pushed into the snowbank. That poor guy was probably soaking wet and freezing after that!” He waves his knife in his hand wildly with his gesture and then quickly deposits it into a sheath before stepping over to your workstation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” 

You recover. “Oh he was. He also got his revenge by pulling her in with him. And she wasn’t even wearing a coat.”

You watch Seokjin’s tense shoulders relax. His broad frame is so close now, towering over you. He smells a little like the earthy starch of potatoes, but you like it. 

“I, uh,” he says, his voice becoming more raw. “I like the snow too. You’re right, it is romantic in a way. The snowflakes getting caught in your hair, you huddle closer to someone to share body heat, it’s nice.”

As if on cue, your bodies inch a little closer to each other. Seokjin reaches his arm forward, brushing along yours as he grasps one edge of the workstation to lean in. 

“Yeah,” you reply lamely. 

You blink up at him and he smiles back. You both sit there for a moment, neither of you moving, just studying the other’s expression. 

Then, he leans in.

Your breath catches, and his other arm lifts up above you on the other side, caging you to the workstation.

Your eyes close from the intensity. He’s so close that you feel the fabric of his rolled shirt sleeve graze against your cheek. 

All it would take is him leaning in and searing his lips onto yours and you would fold for him. You know this.  

This is what you often fantasize about, the two of you in this position. That’s the power he has over you, his smooth seduction, your willingness. 

If he asked you right now, you would strip down and bend over this workstation, let him fuck you with your nipples brushing against the cold steel of the counter, carrot shavings squishing against your face as he impales you with his cock. 

It would be so easy, he just needs to ask you. 

“Y/N,” he says, a bit more distant now, but you shudder at how roughly he says your name. 

“Mm?” you hum, forcing your eyes to reopen. Seokjin has pulled away from you. How long has he been just looking at you standing here with your eyes closed?  

“Turn around,” he says. 

Wait, what? 

You stare back at him blankly. Is he reading your mind? 

Seokjin rolls his eyes and laughs, holding up the package of dried seaweed that was above you on the shelf. He tosses it on the counter behind him.

“Are you still here or did I lose you? I said turn around.” You freeze, confused. 

He did all that to reach above you for some seaweed? Is he fucking with you? And what does he want you to turn around for? 

“Wha–”

You open your mouth to ask but Seokjin moves in, his hands on your wrists as he takes you and spins you around so you’re up against your workstation, his stomach resting on your back as you stand sandwiched against him and the cold counter. You clench your thighs, suddenly aware that you are wet. 

Fuck.  

“You need to focus,” he says low in your ear. You take a shaky breath. 

Focus. How are you supposed to focus when you imagined this exact scenario exactly one minute ago? 

“I, what?” Your words fail you as you stand there, stunned and aroused but also completely confused about what he wants from you. This entire situation is a mindfuck. 

Seokjin’s hands leave your wrists and make their way to your hands as he moves you like a puppet. 

“Y/N, were you even paying attention? We just went over this. God, I swear, I’ve told you. You need to be present in the kitchen space. You’re lucky I resheathed the knife for you while you were on another planet. You could have easily gotten hurt.” Seokjin scolds you overhead. 

Oh. You look to the right and see the kitchen knife you were using back in its protective shell and not where you left it, which, come to think of it, was incredibly close to where your hands were now on the counter under Seokjin’s. Yikes. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling a prick of shame seeping through the fog. Seokjin isn’t trying to fuck you against the counter; he’s trying to make sure you don’t cut your finger off. 

He tuts above you, his grip still firm as he directs you to the uncut carrots and chopping board. 

“Tsk, honestly. You’re ridiculous. What am I going to do if my best girl is hospitalized after losing her hand because she’s too busy daydreaming about snow storms instead of having basic kitchen awareness? You know, I could send you home over this. Make you unable to come back until you rewatch those kitchen safety videos with the fake blood and awful actors. Seriously.” 

You shiver at his words. He’s so busy setting up for a rant, you almost miss it. 

“Your best girl?” You ask lightly. 

Seokjin stills, your joined hands hovering over the cutting board. “Oh, uh. You know what I mean. You’re the best….girl we have on staff. You know.”

You don’t. You’re far from the best girl on staff. Seha has a degree in culinary arts. She’s usually the one who has everything prepped days ahead with perfectly formed cuts. She manages the kitchen cleanliness with rigidness. She even barks orders at Seokjin when he’s in the kitchen because he isn’t as clean as her. 

If she wasn’t out with the flu, none of this work would even need to be done. Maybe Seokjin is getting sick too. He’s been feverish looking and a little uneasy around you all morning, and clearly he’s now being delusional.

“Ah,” you concede, and give your hands a shake to urge him to continue. 

“Right, anyway. You’re getting better at your cuts, but I’m losing money quickly with all your sacrifices to the floor goblins. And we don’t have much time left before the others start coming in, so let’s finish this up.” 

You let Seokjin guide you, literally hand-over-hand, as he restructures your positioning on the knife and angle of the blade to slice through the carrots a lot more cleanly and easily. 

“That’s it, good. You’re doing such a good job,” he breathes. 

You feel his exhale along your spine. God, you’re a pervert. He’s just trying to help you better yourself, and all you’re thinking about is how dominating he seems right now and how much you want to please him. 

God, if he calls you a good girl you know you’re going to moan audibly. That’s how bad he’s got you.

You keep working, and once you get the hang of it, Seokjin’s grip loosens, allowing you to finish the bag by yourself. But his hands are still on yours, even if you’re the one in control. 

After a while though, it’s becoming too much to handle. Him bent over you like this is limiting your range of motion, making it hard to wipe the sweat on your hands or move your scrap pile further down the counter. 

He’s also a human furnace, the space between you still so limited that you’ve begun sweating under him. 

In one particular cut of carrot, the sweat caused by the joint heat of your hands causes you to lose your grip, shooting it down onto the floor. 

Reflexively, you reach down to grab it, but with Seokjin still attached to you, it proves to be an immediate disaster. 

You throw your body into a bend, which forces you back, your ass grinding directly into Seokjin and being met with something very large. 

You gasp and Seokjin grunts, swiftly releasing your hands, which are actually balancing you in your bend. 

You fall forward, smacking your head into the edge of the counter as you go down. 

The kitchen echoes with an embarrassing clang as your forehead ricochets off the metal. 

“Fuck,” you groan, a sharp pain shooting through you.. 

You scramble to recover, one hand going to your head as you steady yourself, rubbing the soreness. Seokjin flails above you, panicked. 

“Oh shit! Y/N I’m so sorry! Oh my god. Are you okay? I shouldn’t have let go, I just was–” Seokjin rambles as you stare up at him, trying to get him to steel himself. 

“No, fuck, ouch, it’s okay! I’m okay. Seokjin, can you please just get me some ice and help me up?” You aren’t sure you can get yourself up as your vision swirls from the heat of the pain. You really went down hard. 

Seokjin ceases his flailing and shouting, leaning down and picking your body up off the floor with impressive strength and carrying you to a clean workstation in the center of the room. He sits you on top of it, making you now almost his height. 

Holy shit.

Once sure you’re not at risk of flopping over, he walks over to the ice maker with a clean kitchen cloth and folds some ice cubes inside. 

You reach for the cloth, but he refuses to hand it over. 

“Yah! No. Please let me do this, I can see the bump forming already. I’m the one who caused your injury.” He gingerly lays the cold cloth against your head. You wince. 

“‘Snot your fault,” you pout, trying to ignore the pain. “It was an accident. No one caused it.” 

Seokjin sighs and places his free hand behind your head, discouraging you from angling away like you’ve subconsciously been doing. 

“It is my fault. I let go of you. After just lecturing you about kitchen safety. God, what kind of example am I setting? I’m really sucking at this boss thing.” 

You reach up, placing your hand on Seokjin’s wrist to remove it from the ice. But he doesn’t relent. You keep your hold. 

“Seokjin, you’re not a bad boss. God you’re literally the opposite. Everyone here loves you. You’ve only been the manager for a little while. Give yourself some time. And keep in mind both of your parents ran this place, and now it’s down to just you.” 

You feel the tendons under his wrist adjust, his grip a little looser. Seokjin’s wrists are soft and tan, a thin coating of hair trailing up his forearms and under his sleeve. Your grip loosens too, and you let your thumb brush back and forth through the hair. 

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t supposed to be the manager. My brother was supposed to manage the restaurant when my parents were ready to retire. That was always the plan, anyway. But things change. When they were getting their apartment ready for my nephew to arrive, I think they realized how tight space can be living in the city. We grew up in an apartment complex not too far from here and it always felt like we were on top of each other. 

“Which, we kind of were. My brother and I shared this tiny room that had bunk beds, and we lived that way until he went away to college. I used to always smack my head against the ceiling when I was a teenager and woke up in the middle of the night. My forehead would get huge bruises on it, probably a lot like the one you’re going to have on your head.” He frowns. 

“I guess my brother didn’t want to see his kids living like that either. I never minded it so much, but maybe that’s because I was the younger one. Not having any privacy during puberty or dealing with me during puberty was probably a nightmare for him.”

You shoot him a sympathetic smile. “It was nice of you to take over on his behalf then. I know you used to work for major companies in the business district downtown. This must have felt like a sacrifice.” 

Seokjin’s arm falls away from your head, your soft caress pulling away with it. He sets the cloth down next to you. He worries his bottom lip into his mouth and then shakes his head. 

“No, it was never like that. I’m sure eomma filled everyone and their brother’s ears with stuff about me. ‘Seokjin is our business minded son! He’ll make a great leader!’ ‘Seokjin is talented in the kitchen and spent his whole life working for us. We trained him well!’ ‘Don’t worry about him abusing his power. He knows exactly how it is for everyone!’” Seokjin’s says, his voice inotating the same pattern of his mother. 

“Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are all those things,” you argue, lacing your fingers in his. You know it’s not necessarily appropriate behavior between a boss and his employee, but at this moment, you’d argue Seokjin needs a friend more than anything. 

“I’m not, though, Y/N. I didn’t sacrifice anything to do this. It wasn’t some great act of loyalty where the son with a promising future gives up his dream for his family business. In fact I had to beg my parents to let me work here! Because I, their failure of a son, lost everything and had nowhere else to go! And the shit I ended up doing to even keep myself afloat…I’m not a great leader. I’m nothing more than a fraud.”

Seokjin rakes his free hand through his hair. 

“I had a good life before this Y/N. A good job, a nice house, a fi-...just..I was living a dream that I no longer have for myself is all. But at the time I was on top of the world and now I feel like such a fucking failure.” 

Seokjin looks like he’s falling apart, eyes darting madly as he shifts around, suddenly transforming into nothing like his usual cool, goofy self. 

You need to stop this from getting worse. To distract him and stop him from talking himself into a pit of despair. If Seokjin’s mouth is occupied somehow, he can’t continue with all the negative self-talk. 

A stupid idea flashes in your head. You don’t even think before you roll with it. 

“Jesus, I can’t even manage properly. I messed up Mino’s paycheck a few weeks ago and I’m still not sure how it happened. I’m just not–”

Your lips connect with Seokjin’s, your legs wrapping around his waist to tug him closer as you move your body against his. Seokjin returns the kiss in earnest, parting his mouth to welcome your tongue as you lap the words out of his mouth. 

His plush lips feel so soft against yours, his taste a bit bitter from the coffee you both drank earlier, but you find yourself craving more of it, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth with the hope that maybe you can absorb it. 

Seokjin groans in response, gripping your hand tighter, his other settling on your lower back as he pulls you closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear every atom in your body is vibrating at a higher frequency from his touch. You want to feel him everywhere. 

You break the kiss, and see Seokjin’s eyelids are heavy, almost like he’s drunk. You’re about to move back in, to tongue along his sweaty, long neck, suck on his protruding Adam’s apple. 

That’s when you hear it. The slam of the back door as your coworkers arrive.

Seokjin jolts back, breaking the hold you have around his waist with your legs. 

His mouth looks a little red and swollen. And his eyes are wide, panic flashing across his face. 

“I–I’m sorry!” 

Before you can reassure him, tell him that you’re the one who should be sorry, you started this, who crossed this line between boss and employee by kissing him, Seokjin bolts from the kitchen. 

You sit for a minute, stunned, and then look around, taking in the scene around you. The carrot shavings all over the counter, the discarded one still on the floor. Your knife is unsheathed again. There’s containers of tofu and seaweed just abandoned in a pile next to a large pot. 

And you can feel the puddle forming under you from where the ice has begun to melt. What the fuck just happened? What mess did you just get yourself into? 

The rest of your shift, you’re anxious. Especially because you’re short-staffed due to the weather forecast, which has led to three call-outs from people who commute from across town. That means you’re performing multiple roles: taking orders, bussing tables, seating customers, and getting appetizers, drinks, and side dishes ready for each group of people coming through the door. 

Seokjin was right in his prediction; you guys are slammed. And because there’s less staff, that means Seokjin is orbiting around you, following behind with cleaning rags as you finish bussing or running into you in the narrow doorway as you both attempt to fetch an order from the kitchen. You’re both flushed and sweating, the hairs on the back of your neck now matted down. 

Your mind is swirling around that kiss and its consequences, but you don’t have time to lose focus; the minute you finish one thing, you’re pulled into another task for a temporary distraction.

Only to be thrust back into the reminder of this morning when Seokjin lightly caresses the small of your back as he squeezes behind you to grab more plates. 

If either of you ever need a break, you don’t say so, only pausing in between rushes to pee, take a bite of something, and chug water before you’re thrown back out into the mess. 

Finally, after you elect to work a double, it’s closing time.

“Y/N!” Seokjin calls you from the front as you scrub the grime off a stack of dirty dishes.

Your pulse quickens. You’re the last one here. The storm kicked up an hour ago, and since you live the closest, you shoved your coworkers out the door so they could get home before the roads were a mess. 

You dry your hands on your messy apron, pulling out your phone and wincing at the slew of missed calls, texts and notifications. You were supposed to stream again tonight with a bunch of other girl gamers as a part of a “Galentine's Day” collab, playing dating simulation games as a warm up before jumping into some first person shooters. 

You’d reached out to cancel once you saw the stress tugging at Seokjin’s face, his jaw set, his brow constantly furrowed. While the other streamers were completely understanding, you still have a ton of notifications from your social channels asking if you are okay and some texts from Wonwoo and a few other friends asking the same. 

You’ll fill them in later. But now, you have to face Seokjin. 

He’s sitting at a freshly wiped-down table, counting the drawers and preparing the deposit slip. 

He ushers you over and gestures at the stack of cash, silently asking you to verify his numbers. You comply, the room silent less the shuffling of bills or coins under your fingertips and your habitual mouthing of the numbers to ensure you don’t lose count. 

He nods at your final calculation, jotting the number down on the sheet and placing the bills together. You turn and begin to head back to the kitchen. 

“Wait,” he says, and you freeze. 

Your stomach is quickly turning into a bundle of knots. You suck your lips into your mouth as you spin back around, Seokjin’s eyes meeting yours. 

“I…” Seokjin takes a deep breath before continuing. “Listen. I’m really sorry about this morning. Today’s just been a whole mess and I really shouldn’t have been airing my frustrations to an employee like that. It was inappropriate and immature. I know better than to behave this way.”

Did you say your stomach was in knots? You mean it’s filled with heavy, sickening lead. “Oh, right. Uh, don’t. I mean, I started it. I just…you were panicking and I didn’t know what to do and I thought maybe this would help.” 

Seokjin’s brow furrows, a frown on his face. “Why are you apologizing when I’m clearly the one in the wrong here? Ah, no let me finish! I’ve always prided myself on my professionalism and ability to keep personal matters out of my work. And I failed in doing so, which takes advantage of you since I’m your superior. You not only felt a need to comfort me but also stop me from spinning out. I’m truly sorry Y/N, about the oversharing and the um, kiss. I definitely gave into my emotions in a moment of weakness. Please forgive me, I promise I will never touch you again. This won’t happen again.” 

His head droops and he looks down, clearly ashamed.

Oh. So he doesn’t want this. Which, why would he? He’s right in that he’s your boss, and clearly Seokjin values his reputation and his job because they’re a reflection of not just him, but his family. Why risk that with someone like you?

You swallow the lump in your throat along with any response. There is the boundary, you know better than to cross it. 

As you move again, Seokjin rises from the table. “Y/N…you know what? You go home. The storm is really coming down.”

“But, there’s still mopping and all those dishes left,” you croak. Your voice is so hoarse from being dehydrated and talking all day that you barely recognize it as your own. 

“Don’t worry about those. You look and sound exhausted. It’s not your job to take care of everything. Go home, enjoy your romantic snowy trek,” he smirks, “and get some much needed rest. You’ve more than earned it.”

When you arrive home, your body slugs onto your bed, finally giving into the fatigue you’ve ignored all day. Your feet ache, your stomach now settled enough from your walk that you are starving. And you smell awful. 

As much as you want to fall asleep, you know that you at the very least need to eat something. 

With a groan, you rise, hobbling to your kitchen to make some instant ramyeon. The collab stream is now over, you learned this while finally checking your phone on your way home and seeing a thank you message blasted out by one of the streamers. Oh well. 

You suppose you could get back to your book, see what Prince August and his lover are getting up to in their reunion, but that seems like more brain power than you’re willing to give. 

You elect to eat, then take a shower, rinsing the grime of the day off you. When you step out of the shower, you see an ugly looking bump and purple bruise on your forehead. 

That’s right, you’d already forgotten about your injury from earlier. You touch it lightly and recoil from the sharp pain. Damn, maybe you should’ve checked to see if you were concussed earlier. You didn’t realize you hit your head that hard. 

You decide to ice it before bed, crawling under your covers and trying to rest while you play back your day. 

How you started is so significantly different from where you are now. When you woke up, you were eager and excited to be around Seokjin, to learn new skills and feel light and warm in his presence. Now, the idea of going back to work in a few days, to have to muddle through the rejection you got tonight and try to get back to a baseline makes you feel nauseous. 

Seokjin wants to make this all water under the bridge, and you want to do that for him. But it’s nearly impossible when he’s, well, him. He doesn’t understand how much more difficult it’s going to be to look at him because you’re not walking around with a face like that: perfectly balanced and delicate features and a full, delicious set of lips. 

God, he really did taste fantastic. You wonder what would’ve happened if you two weren’t interrupted. Would giving into his emotional need for comfort have given you more? You know it’s wrong to think about, because you're the one who took advantage of him, not the other way around. 

He can say he took advantage of you with his power imbalance or whatever, but you’re the one who was seconds away from licking down that thick neck or grinding back onto that massive cock. 

Fuck, that’s right, Seokjin is huge under all those clothes and your ass got to experience rubbing against it today. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but he seemed like he was a little hard. 

If Mino and the others had been just a little later, you might have seen it. They might have walked in on you on your knees as you choked on it, Seokjin’s moans and whines echoing in the kitchen. 

Because now from kissing him, you got a taste of those little noises he makes. And the memory has you becoming slick and needy. 

It’s late. Too late to read your smutty book, especially since you’re not at the next smutty scene yet. August and his beloved are just reuniting. You’re sure it’s bound to be good, but you don’t have that kind of patience right now. You need to cum, to get your ideas about Seokjin and what he firmly set as a boundary out of your head once and for all. 

Which means you need to give your fantasy of him out of your head too. You shove the ice pack you’ve been holding to your head aside, ready to relieve some tension. 

You reach under your shirt and gasp when the chill of your icy hand plucks at one of your nipples. Yes, you need more of this. 

You touch the other one with your other hand, disappointed that it’s warm. And then you get a fantastic idea. You grope around for a moment until you feel the cold cloth housing the ice cubes from your freezer and pluck one out. It melts quickly in your hand, but the cold water is stimulating as you feel it run down your forearms, a droplet or two rushing down and reaching the heat of your armpit. You pull the large shirt you use as pajamas  up further with your other hand, fully exposing your chest and stomach to the chilly air of your apartment.  

The ice cube drips over your navel. You hiss as the new sensation floods your core with warmth. Some of the water pools in your belly button, a satisfying dampness taking over your body. Then, you drip the melting ice cube onto each nipple and relish how erect and sensitive they’ve become from your arousal. 

Your breasts are plush, something you love to grab and tug as you play with yourself. They’re heavy, the weight of gravity tugging them down instead of staying up as porn once made you believe was possible. 

You can understand why people sometimes get caught up playing with tits all the time. They’re arguably fun to play with. 

As the ice cube warms and shrinks, you become more curious, taking it between your fingers and swirling it directly over each nipple, a shock of cold hitting them and your hips bucking in pleasure. More. Whatever you’re feeling right now, you need more of it. 

You rip your sleep shorts and panties off in desperation, splaying your legs open and aiming yourself up so the last drips of the ice cube can fall directly onto the folds of your pussy, a few dribbles landing right on your aching clit. 

Heat, that’s what you actually feel. Fire and ice swirling together in a decadent and hot pleasure. You reach over and grab another cube, this time skipping the teasing and touching the ice right to your clit. It’s a lot. Too much. Not enough. The pain shooting through your clit is also full of so much pleasure and you don’t want to stop. 

You rock against your hand, rubbing your clit with your fingers as the ice melts, mixing the wetness of the water with your own, getting you messier, hotter, hungrier. 

The memory of Seokjin holding the ice pack flits through your head, how cold his one hand was as it held yours, similar to the chill of your own hand as you grind it against your pussy. You need something inside of you. Now. 

And unfortunately for you, all your toys are currently dirty. When you finished streaming last night, you made good on your promise to fuck yourself until you passed out, which means your collection of dildos and vibrators are now discarded in a pile next to your bed that you’d intended to wash after work today. 

You insert a finger and sigh. It’s not enough. The angle is too awkward and you can’t get far enough in. Seokjin’s hands are much larger than yours, capable of pumping his long fingers deep within you, to get to the part of your core that is aching. If he were here right now, he could be itching that scratch, a smug look on his face as he comments on how soaking wet you are for him and commands you to cum. 

Ugh. You said you wouldn’t think of him, yet here he is again, stirring up inside your fantasies. You can’t give in, you need to distract yourself, look at another face so you can feel motivation. 

You remove your fingers, wipe them on the damp washcloth next to you, and reach over on your side table for your laptop. 

You don’t watch a lot of porn, finding the videos often too fake, but you’re desperate. You scroll through the website, quickly losing some of your arousal as you click through pages of straight porn, the ones you know that will have some awful plot, or the woman has some nasal and fake moan that kills your buzz. Or the guys are so ugly, proving that porn always has the male gaze in mind. 

You just need to cum. Today has been awful enough, and knowing you have to stream tomorrow again is already causing you to wind up. No, this is necessary stress relief. An unwinding. Make it dirty and to the point. 

You click over into the other categories. You need just a man, someone else who isn’t Seokjin. You hover over the male masturbation tag, still disappointed. Then you see a banner ad for a camming site: Worldwide Handsome, Hunks From Around the Globe. That, you think, seems more promising. 

Live cams are interactive, more with immediacy. Usually the guys on them are hot or gay or both and just ready to jack off for money and give in to some dirty talk. Even the gay camboys don’t always care if women are viewing. Money is money. 

You click the banner, praying this doesn’t immediately give your computer a hundred viruses that will delete all your coursework you’ve saved to the harddrive. 

Luckily, it’s a legitimate website, much like OnlyFans, just with the emphasis on queer men from every country. You might just be saved. 

There are so many categories to choose from: couples, kinks, trans, bisexual, furries, just chatting, BDSM, interactive games, private rooms. It’s a little overwhelming. You select the “solo” tab, which, of course, has the most videos under it, and begin exploring. 

You click on one that seems promising, but quickly exit out because the user has fallen asleep and it feels too intimate. 

In another, the streamer is yelling at his chat for outting him to his parents, and you exit out of that as well. 

You’re about to give up when you refresh the page, but then a recently started stream catches your eye. It’s quickly gaining views, and has a little “1” next to it, probably to indicate that this streamer is the most popular one in his category. 

The title for the stream is Unwind with me. Late night play with Daddy which makes your core throb a little with promise. The thumbnail is black, which is a little odd, but you’re curious who this “Daddy” is and how he plans on helping his viewers unwind. Because that is exactly what you need. In his associated tags, there’s a tiny banner at the bottom that urges you forward “all genders welcome”. 

You click the link, and the video itself is black, but there’s still hundreds of comments fluttering through the chat. Is your stream broken? This sometimes happens when you stream too, but after a quick refresh you realize that the screen isn’t black. There’s a little bit of light pouring through whatever is covering the camera, detecting some movement through the veil. 

“You don’t know how stressed I am today,” a low voice groans. 

Whoa. You lean closer, tapping the volume button on your laptop to the max and leaning back. God, whoever this guy is, he sounds hot. This might actually work to get you off and get over Seokjin.

You balance your laptop on your knees and roll your hand down your stomach and between your legs, finding your aching clit and sighing as you delight in your touch. 

“I know we don’t always play games like this baby. I know you usually like it when I beg. But I can’t play like that today. It’s been so long since I got to fall back into what I desperately, absolutely need.”

His voice is so seductive yet also comforting in a way that’s familiar. You feel more of your arousal dripping out of you, and you scoop it up to swirl it around your clit, feeling a little twinge of that white hot pleasure return to you. 

“And what I need is to take the edge off, to remind all of you who is in charge. Some of you have been very, very bad lately. Haven’t I given you enough? A two-year anniversary stream? I gave you all my cum didn’t I? All of it.” 

The chat is going nuts, comments replying with “yes Daddy” accompanying tips that vary from twenty bucks to one thousand dollars spilling in. You check his timestamp. He’s only been live for five minutes and he’s already getting this much? Even your most successful streams take hours to reach a little over a thousand after royalty cuts. 

To his credit, though, if you had a grand to drop on him, you just might, and that’s going by his sexy voice alone.

“I let you watch me spill from my cock, let you see me touch myself. And you were greedy. Don’t think I don’t know what you did. I saw your questioning comments, trying to shame me for muttering someone’s name in pleasure. But I’m not ashamed. I’m proud.”

Fuck, what you would do to have this guy moan your name. You feel your orgasm approaching and rub yourself harder, a soft squelch echoing through your room.

“You took what I gave you for granted, you fucking whores. And now, you need to be punished.” 

You’re so close, the little peaks of pleasure starting to build up higher in intensity. 

The mystery man stops talking, and you along with the chat, begging for more. 

“Please,” you moan at your screen. 

Suddenly, you hear it, a wet, slick sound. Fuck, is he touching himself? 

“It’s been a long day. All day, I was working and I was so horny because some people in this world can’t stop fucking teasing me, tempting me to punish them, just like you.”

You feel the tremor of your first orgasm, but it’s not as sharp, more like a hint of what is to come. You pinch your clit between your fingers, sighing a little bit at the relief of pressure.

“You’ve all been very bad. And until you show me you can be good, I’m going to pump my cock and not let any of you see. You think you can do that? You think you can be my good little subs and prove to me you’ll behave?”

Oh god. Fuck. He’s insane, he’s so hot and insane, and you’re also insane, nodding along. The condescension is so hot, and it reminds you of earlier in the kitchen, when Seokjin scolded you for not being safe with the knife. His voice got rough just like this guy. And it makes you feel so needy and desperate. 

Please, you beg silently, just like how you did this morning. I’ll do anything. 

Almost as if he knows this, you hear a moan carry through your speakers. You assume he’s reading the comments and tips with promises to behave. You clench around nothing, really wishing at least one of your toys was clean for you to use to feel less empty. You’re never falling asleep without washing them again. 

“Good, that’s what I like to see. Now remember, you don’t get to cum until I get to cum. Go ahead and play with yourself for me, get yourself all worked up. And then be good and listen. I’ll tell you what to do next.” 

Whoops. Well, the first one didn’t count. You aren’t satisfied. 

He groans, signaling that he’s stroking himself again, rough jerks you can hear from the way his hands are sliding over his (you assume) lubed cock. 

“You want to see me cum? You want to earn it all over you? You know what you have to do, my pretty little subs. Work for it. And not a penny less.” 

In a frenzy, the tip jar continues to buzz in the bottom corner, the graphic of coins depositing into it glitching out a bit as it fails to keep up with the volume of tips. While he’s the most popular streamer on this site, it’s not as though the website is the only one of its kind, and that means that his couple hundred viewers are putting in the work and the cash. 

You watch the numbers rise next to the tip jar as his subs showcase their double entendre: both his subscriber count soars and his comments flood with loyal submissives.

Please, Daddy. Please let me cum. 

I’m sorry Daddy. I’ll be good, I swear. 

Remove the blindfold please! I need to see your big cock! 

Ah, it’s a blindfold. Of course. 

The graphic of the jar changes, exploding and sending animated dollars and coins across the screen. This is wild. His viewers have already met the milestone. They’ve just raised ten grand in less than 15 minutes. That has to be some kind of record. 

He tuts and the sound of it punches your gut. Why does he sound so familiar?  “Tsk, that wasn’t so hard, was it? I knew you could do it. You want my forgiveness that badly, huh? Okay, I’ll give you what you need. I’ll forgive you.” 

Your pussy is throbbing. You’ve had to scale back the touching, feeling a weird sense of obedience to this camboy that you can’t describe. 

There’s a ruffling sound and the camera jolts before light pours into view, a blur of shapes and colors you can’t make out greeting you until it comes into focus and you’re met with a massive, leaking cock. 

“Holy shit,” you moan, finding your footing on your bed and moving your resting hand from your inner thigh back to your clit. 

The camera is framed from the user’s toned abs down to just the top of his thighs, showing off his heavy, tight balls and red, angry tip. 

“Is this what you’re begging for?” 

Yes, you shudder a breath. Yes. 

Large hands with long knobby fingers run along his thighs, one sweeping under to cup his balls while the other works his shaft, thumb sliding over his slit to rub precum around the tip. 

“Alright, then.” He begins pumping, smooth, tight jerks that have him squeezing his length and encouraging more strands of precum to leak out. He falls into a steady rhythm and you mirror the pace on your clit, gasping for breaths as you become all the more sensitive now that you have a visual to follow. 

“My face? Oh, no. You didn’t earn the right to see that. Don’t start with me. If you want to see my face when I cum, you have to reach the next milestone. You know the rules.” 

You don’t know the rules, but you hope someone else will be desperate enough to reach it for you. You’re dying to know what he looks like. 

Almost instantly, the money animation explodes on the screen again. A $5000 tip. Jesus Christ.

“Ah, of course mapl3stor33, I should’ve known it was you. Always so good to me.  Because of you I got to get that new collector figurine. Thank you. Well everyone, because of mapl3’s generosity and mmm…loyalty…fuck. I guess I’ll let you get your full fantasy. Let you see my face as you imagine you get to make a mess of me, milk my fucking cock all over you and let me make a mess of you.” He’s moaning as he speaks, pausing between sentences to pump himself harder as he gives “Maple” a proper shout out. 

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s one thing for you to create the fantasy, but him acknowledging it with some judgment, as though you’re not good enough to even fantasize about him, it’s leading you quicker to your undoing. 

His pace builds to a heavy, slick rut. His hands are slightly red, almost like how yours looked after washing the dishes before Seokjin kicked you out. 

Wait. Red hands. His look similar to Seokjin’s, with the same knobby long fingers. And the figurine and Maple…like, MapleStory? 

There’s no way. No, you’re clearly just losing it with your fantasies. This one is taking it too far. 

“Fuck, yeah that’s it baby. Touch yourself. Be good for me. Where do you want my cum? Oh, you dirty slut, fuck, yes. Okay, I’ll cum all over myself. Just for you. Shit. Almost, come on.”

Your fingers are still following his lead, unable to stop, so close to finishing, to the release. 

He moans, his hands blurring as he strokes fast and hard, jerking into himself. And that’s when you know. You heard that moan. You caused that moan. 

With a final solid, slightly whiny grunt, he backs up. His face coming into frame, and the first strands of thick white release cascades across Seokjin’s chest as you focus in on the pure bliss washing over him, his head thrown back and mouth shaped into a delicious “o”. 

“Oh, fuck. Take it, take my cum. Yes, that’s it. That’s my best girl, so good for me. Such a good girl.” 

The second you hear the praising fall from Seokjin’s mouth, he takes you over the edge with him. Your body rockets into your orgasm with a heavy clench of your core, feet losing their solid hold below you as you begin to shake and succumb to the feeling. 

You’ve unwound, the tension of your body unfurling as you’re cast out to sea, your body bobbing along each wave with a newfound euphoria. Out here on the water, the world is silent except the ring in your ears. You bask in the peaceful ebb until you feel a tingling in your fingertips and toes calling you back, forcing breath back into your lungs with a heavy pant. 

Once you recenter, you gaze back at the stream, confirming that this is the smiling and grateful Seokjin you just saw three hours ago. 

He called you a good girl. He came all over his sweaty chest. And he’s the top streamer on a gay sex cam site. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[ppangjae]

FIVE PLUS ONE | JAEHYUN

SYNOPSIS. Five times world-renowned chef Jeong Jaehyun tried to end your journey to be a chef  because you weren’t ‘qualified enough to be a chef’ and that one time you proved him wrong. 

—or: your villain story quite literally 

PAIRING. jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRE. fluff | angst | enemies to lovers!au | chef!jaehyun | aspiring chef!reader

WORD COUNT. 28.8k+ words (is this my new record? omg)

author's note. i posted a long time ago about how i must write a chef!jae fic and now, here she is. i'm so sorry for such a long wait (and all those postponements oop) but i'm glad that she's finally done and posted for you to enjoy reading! i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it :-) also pls reading the author’s note at the end for all my thoughts about writing this fic! happy reading~

THE FIRST TIME.

The first time you and world-renowned chef Jeong Jaehyun crossed paths was when you were doing your culinary internship at Enoteca Pinchiorri in Florence, Italy. In fact, you had no idea who Jeong Jaehyun was. It was your second day of internship at the Michelin-starred restaurant and because you needed a bit more time to adjust to the new working environment, you worked as a waitress. You had no customer complaints about working as a waitress for the first week and had agreed it was the best way for you to get accustomed to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. While you had no idea who Jeong Jaehyun was at the time, he made sure you knew who exactly he was when you had accidentally stumbled over your two feet and spilled his glass of Barolo all over his cream-coloured button-up shirt.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim, looking at him with extreme horror all over your face. Your knees were planted onto the red carpet floors, and you were too horrified and embarrassed to bring yourself back up onto your own two feet. You would rather be sucked into the red carpet floors and the pits of darkness, never to be seen again. Slowly looking up at him, he stares down at his stained shirt before meeting your gaze.

Your blood has never run cold until that very moment. He reads your name on your name tag with a piercing gaze before muttering. “Please get back up. You’re just creating a scene and humiliating yourself even more by gathering attention from other customers—”

“Oh, mi dispiace! Here’s a napkin, Mr. Jeong!” The executive chef, Alessandro, rushes over to the two of you with a large napkin. You’re not sure if you should be relieved to have Alessandro come in to save yourself from the embarrassment, especially with Mr. Jeong staring straight at you with eyes like shooting daggers. You’ve settled on standing behind Alessandro, feeling completely ashamed and embarrassed of yourself. 

“Is she new?” Mr. Jeong asks, burning two holes through your forehead with his dark brown eyes. With your head hanging low, you could only momentarily distract yourself by noticing that the heel of your two-inch black high heels has completely broken off. 

Great. You had just bought these high heels, and they've already broken. You’re left with no choice but to glue the broken heel back on. 

“Yes, she’s new. I apologize, Mr. Jeong. She’s still in training, and thus, she’s a little flustered," Alessandro explains. You don’t have the strength to look at any of them, but the damage has already been done. You’re no superhero with the power to turn back time and undo mistakes. Although, you wish you did have those superpowers at this very moment.

Your conscience forces you to do what you’re supposed to do. First, apologize. Second, make an offer to clean up the spill. Three, offer compensation after consulting Alessandro with ideas. Four, scan the tables around and apologize for the commotion. You learned this in culinary school. You draw in a deep breath, stepping towards Alessandro’s side and forcing yourself to look at Mr. Jeong.

That piercing gaze… that stone-cold face… You wonder who did him so dirty to be so cold-hearted. 

“I apologize, Mr. Jeong. The mess will be cleaned up and we’ll get you a new glass of Barolo. In compensation—” You begin until Alessandro decides to finish it for you.

“In compensation, your main course will be on the house. We deeply apologize, Mr. Jeong.” Alessandro bows and you take it as your cue to bow with him.

Mr. Jeong slowly nods his head. You can still feel his burning stare. Who is he? Why is he being acknowledged with such high regard? Mr. Jeong mumbles, “no worries, do you mind showing me where the washroom is?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeong. It’s right this way.” Alessandro takes over and leads Mr. Jeong to the washroom. As they’re walking away, Alessandro flashes you a look. It’s not a warning look. But with his gaze, you can tell that he’s telling you to head to the storage room to clean up the spill before Mr. Jeong comes back to his table. 

As you head to the storage room to grab hot towels, you bump into one of the other waitresses, Stella, who looks just as horrified as you are. Your legs almost give out at the sight of her. 

“Stella, do you mind taking over his table? I don’t think I can—”

“No, yeah, sure, I’ll take over that table for you. Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks with a face filled with concern. She bites her lip. “You do know who that man is, right?”

You slowly shake your head. “I have no idea who he is—”

“Oh mio dio!” Stella gasps in shock. “Bella, that is Mr. Jeong Jaehyun. Chef Jaehyun. He is a world-renowned chef. He owns five three-Michelin-starred restaurants in the world—”

“World… renowned… chef…” You trail off, growing more horrified by what you’ve done. 

“He’s won almost every cooking competition you could think of. He’s a legend. Both of his parents are culinary chefs too. His parents also teach at one of the most prestigious universities in South Korea for its culinary arts program. He started cooking when he was only ten years old—” She continues to hammer it into your head that the man you have spilled expensive wine all over is a living legend that cannot be messed with.

And you… have messed with him. 

Unknowingly.

“A legend… started at ten years old… won every competition…” 

You’re going to pass out. You feel faint. Your legs feel like jello. You’re surprised that you still haven’t been sucked into the red carpet floors. Maybe fate wanted you to experience this humiliation. Did you do something horribly wrong in your past life to deserve this? It’s only been the second day of your internship and you already want to go home. Hell, you haven’t even started cooking—which is why this culinary internship is for—and you already want to go home to your parents and cry your eyes out. 

“Yeah. He’s a big deal, Y/N. But don’t worry, I got you covered. I’ll take over his table. In the meantime, you stay here and get yourself together, alright?” Stella reassures you. 

You slowly nod your head, falling back against the stool. Stella grabs some towels and leaves you in the storage room all by yourself. Complete shock and embarrassment, you’ve really dug yourself a huge hole. After you’ve gathered yourself together, you head towards the door to look out the small round window that peeks into the restaurant. You could see Stella wiping up Mr. Jeong’s—or should you say Chef Jaehyun’s—table. When Chef Jaehyun returns, she greets him with a wide, pearly-white smile. He returns the same energy as her, almost mirroring her warm and bright aura. It’s a complete one-eighty from how he was with you. You can’t help but feel small. You can’t help but feel miserable.

Maybe you’re not fit to be working in a restaurant. Maybe you’re not fit to be working in a kitchen.

If you can’t even handle guests on the floor, what makes you think you could handle cooking meals in a kitchen? What makes you think you could even step foot in a kitchen? As a chef?

Maybe you’re just not fit to be a chef at all.

As you clock out of your shift, you kick off your high heels to replace them with a pair of running shoes. It’s almost midnight, and you’ve spent the closing hours cleaning up the dining area and the kitchen. It’s been hours since your encounter with Chef Jaehyun but it still feels fresh in your mind. You don’t think it’ll ever leave your mind for a while. 

You hear Stella call out your name as you put on your sweater. Looking over your shoulder, you spot her entering the room with a box in her hands. You quirk an eyebrow out of curiosity. 

“Hey, bella. This is for you.” 

She hands you the box, and you take off the cover to see a new pair of high heels. They look just like the ones you had on earlier, but it has a shiny finish. It’s an expensive brand as well. You place the cover back on, shaking your head and returning it to her. 

“Oh, no, Stella, I don’t think I can take this.” You hand back the heels to her.

She shakes her head. “Oh, no, bella, this is not from me. These heels are truly for you. I was just told to hand this over to you.”

“Oh…” You mumble softly. “Alright, then. Thanks, Stella. Thank you for having my back.”

“No worries, beautiful.” She smiles. “Now, forget about what happened today because tomorrow will be a new day! I don’t want to see your frown tomorrow morning when you clock in, alright? Promise?”

You chuckle. “I promise. By the way, do you know who gave the heels?”

She waves it off. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about who gave them.”

“What secrets are you hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding any secrets from you, beautiful. In fact, I have no idea who gave them. Alessandro just told me to give them to you.”

“I should probably thank Alessandro for these,” you mumble softly.

“Oh, no, these aren’t from Alessandro. He just told me that someone dropped by to give these heels to you and then he asked me to give them to you before you leave.” 

THE SECOND TIME.

You didn’t think Mr. World-Renowned Chef would come back, especially on the last day of your culinary internship. Ever since your full experience of a nightmare with Chef Jaehyun, you were quite surprised that the restaurant made you stay. You were expecting them to kick you out and let you find your way on your own. The first time you encountered Chef Jaehyun, you were a waitress. But this time… you’re a line cook.

And you’re cooking two dishes for him.

“Bella, is the filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento ready?” Alessandro asks when he pops into the kitchen.

Ever since Alessandro announced and acknowledged Chef Jaehyun’s presence in the restaurant, you’ve been a jittery, nervous mess. This is all because you want to prove Chef Jaehyun wrong. You want to see him sit in his chair and dig into the dishes you’ve made for him, appreciating every single second of your hard work and effort. There are many dishes in the hot sanitizing bath; most of them are yours because they haven’t turned out the way you want them to be. You’ve been assigned two dishes; the filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento and tiramisu. Two completely different dishes, one is the main course while the other is a dessert. 

“It’s ready.” You answer, placing the dish of filet mignon and gnocchi Sorrento over the counter for Stella to serve the intimidating chef sitting right outside of the door. In terms of what happens beyond that door leading to the dining area, you hope it’s everything but a repeated nightmare.

You take a step back and wait for Stella to return to the kitchen with Chef Jaehyun’s input on your dishes. A couple of minutes later, Stella returns to the kitchen with not a single trace of a smile spread across her lips. You wait in absolute terror. 

It’s almost as if you’re experiencing a real-life Kitchen Nightmares episode. But the chef tasting the food is not Gordon Ramsay (fortunately). It’s Jeong Jaehyun (unfortunately). 

“He doesn’t like it,” she mumbles softly. She draws in a deep breath, eyes finding yours. “He actually wants to have a word with the chef who made it.”

“Oh god,” you groan, rubbing at the temples of your head. You’re feeling a migraine beginning to throb every single angle of your head. It feels like your head is becoming a construction site, pulsing and pounding painfully every thirty seconds. “I’m going to pass out.”

When you step out of the kitchen, you nervously make your way toward Chef Jaehyun’s table. He’s sitting there, eyes shooting daggers right through your head. He definitely remembers you. There’s no doubt about it. There it is… the same piercing gaze he gave you the first time you encountered him. But that piercing gaze that he gives you is for a similar reason.

You messed up.

And he’s going to grill you for it.

You clear your throat and muster up a small smile as you reach his table. “Hi, Chef Jaehyun, I’m—”

“Y/N.” He cuts you off. You clamp your mouth shut. You were hoping he would be a bit nicer this time around. With the way he shuts you down, you’re starting to learn that you shouldn’t hope for better outcomes in your miserable situations. He tilts his head. “You’re the one who worked as a waitress for my table during my first visit. It’s quite surprising to see you in a chef’s apron. So… tell me, are you actually a culinary intern?”

You slowly nod your head. “Yes, chef.”

“Well, you have many things yet to learn. I’m surprised Enoteca Pinchiorri even considered taking you in as a culinary intern because the dish you had sent out to me is quite… disappointing.” One by one, his comments throw axes at your weak heart. “Take a good look at the gnocchi. Is this hand-made?”

“Yes, chef—”

“It’s rubbery. You’ve added too much flour.”

“I apologize, chef—”

“And I asked for a medium-rare for the filet mignon. It’s well-done.” He points at the filet mignon that he’s sliced with a fork and knife. You feel defeated yet again. You’re not sure if you would rather have the same person or a group of people criticize your cooking. “You should be grateful to be an intern here at this restaurant. This isn’t something you should be taking for granted. It’s not something that should be taken lightly. Other aspiring chefs desire to be in your shoes but don’t have the resources for it.”

“Again, I apologize, Chef Jaehyun.” You bow at him. “I’ll work harder.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your co-chefs. You are lacking in many skills, Y/N. Take this and my comments as a way to improve, or else you will never make it as a chef in this industry.”

That night, you barge into your bedroom with red, swollen eyes and a heavy heart. There must be a reason you keep fucking up in front of Chef Jaehyun. But you’re not sure if you’re courageous enough to be able to withstand such embarrassment. You want to go home. You want to stop your journey of becoming a chef. If the world’s most renowned chef thinks your cooking is horrible, how different would it be for a regular customer?

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your co-chefs. You are lacking in many skills, Y/N. Take this and my comments as a way to improve, or else you will never make it as a chef in this industry.”

You feel crushed.

Just like your dreams of becoming a chef.

THE THIRD TIME.

When you told your father that you would take a chance at MasterChef, he didn’t believe you until he saw you on his TV screen. Ever since you signed up to be a part of the competition, you’ve worked diligently to create the perfect dish to cook and present to the chefs. But when you stand behind the curtains that lead into the kitchen, you can’t help but grow afraid that all you’ve tried to remember and keep note of has completely vanished from your brain. You can’t afford to mess up.

You can’t afford to lose this chance, this opportunity.

It’s been years since your mother passed away due to cancer. She had run a diner, Mina’s Place. She named it after her. It was the only diner in the city that had good reviews. The reviews were a reflection of her passion for cooking. She loved cooking for others but mostly for herself. She had many skills. She perfected many dishes. The university nearby had a highly reputable culinary program, and the professors of that program had frequented the diner from time to time. They would always tell her that there was something special about the diner and that it was surely on its road to something even bigger. 

But before your mother had seen the highest success of her dream, her diner, she fell ill and was diagnosed with cancer. In a short time, her health deteriorated, and she eventually succumbed to her illness, leaving the diner and bringing all its light with her. 

If there was something you wanted to get out of this competition, it was a reputation. It was another chance to continue your mother’s dream. You know that this is something your mother would have wanted if she was still alive, to see her diner up until its end. But she was the one who let go first. Your dream is to bring back the diner, and you’re not sure how, but all you want is to fulfill her dream. 

Your mother’s dream has become yours. 

“Let’s welcome the next potential contestant, Chef Y/N. She’s interned at many restaurants in Florence and wants to open up a restaurant of her own someday.” The host introduces you as you wheel your cart into the kitchen. 

When you reach the workstation situated right in the middle of the room, you place your things down before looking up to introduce yourself to the judges. As you look up, the first person you meet eyes with is Chef Taeyong. Chef Taeyong is known for being the co-owner of a three-Michelin-starred restaurant in Florence. You’ve always wanted to become a culinary intern at his restaurant, but you always chickened out. Standing right next to him is Chef Doyoung, who nods his head at you. Chef Doyoung is known for being a world-renowned chef in the making. He was the winner of MasterChef four years ago and since then has opened a lot of successful restaurants, all of them with Michelin stars. And standing right next to Chef Doyoung is—Chef Jaehyun?!

When Jaehyun’s eyes land on you for the first time in years, his eyebrows raise with surprise. Seeing you for the third time cannot be a pure coincidence. He tries to compose himself and get himself together when you finally acknowledge his presence. From the corner of his eye, he could see Taeyong glance at him. His shoulders tense up, but he feels them slowly relax when you look away from him. 

“Plans to open up a restaurant, huh?” Chef Doyoung smiles and you bite your lip, nodding your head in reply. “You know, that was my plan when I started my journey here in MasterChef. My plan worked out in the end! That means you can fulfill whatever your heart desires, as long as you put your mind to it.”

“I truly believe that if you put your mind into something, it'll be easily attainable if you put in the work and effort.” Chef Taeyong agrees with his co-judge. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

You clear your throat. “I’m planning on baking up a dish that my mother used to make for me. Well, it’s a dessert among many desserts that my mom used to make for the family.”

“But will this dish be enough to give you a spot in MasterChef?” You almost choke on your spit when you hear his voice for the first time in years. Chef Jaehyun. His voice still sends shivers down your spine. As you slowly look up from the stove, you find him already looking back at you with the same piercing gaze that you never seemed to forget. 

You gather yourself together. You nod. You like to believe that you’ve learned to handle your nervousness and anxiousness. “More than enough, chef.”

“You seem to have a close relationship with your mother,” Chef Doyoung begins. While you’re conversing with the chefs, you’re preparing your dish. You start by dipping the truffles in melted chocolate. “Is she the one who inspired you to join MasterChef?”

You smile at the thought of your mother. You answer as you place each chocolate-covered pumpkin pecan truffle onto the plate. “Yes, chef. She’s very special to me. I just want to make her proud.”

“Well, what are you making us for today?” Chef Doyoung questions. You’re placing the spiced pumpkin roulade next to the truffles and adjusting them to make the dish look presentable overall. 

“I’ll serve you a spiced pumpkin roulade with pecan maple truffles. It’s something my mom used to make every Thanksgiving.” You answer. “It’s also my dad’s favourite dessert, and because it’s his favourite, my mom would make it for him every now and then. I would have to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to get a bite because the whole thing would be gone the next day.”

Chef Taeyong chuckles. “Sounds sweet, spicy, and delicious. It also sounds like it brings warm memories. You have five minutes left, Y/N.”

Five minutes later, your dish is ready. You place it right in front of you at your station. Chef Taeyong is the first one to taste your dish. He heads over to you and picks up his spoon. He scoops a spoonful of everything in your dish underneath the warm spotlights that shine over your station. Pumpkin pecan truffles… spiced pumpkin roulade…

“Do you mind walking me through this dish?” Chef Taeyong asks. 

“What you have on this side are the truffles… the pumpkin pecan truffles, to be exact. It’s glazed with maple syrup.” You explain before pointing to the sliced pumpkin roulade on the other side of the dish. “And on the other side of the dish is a spiced pumpkin roulade.”

“You seem nervous,” he says softly. 

You let out a shaky laugh. “I am indeed quite nervous, chef.”

“How bad do you want this, Y/N?” He asks. 

“So bad.” You answer simply. “You don’t even know how bad I want this.”

“Let’s see if this dish is enough to earn you a spot in the competition.” He tastes your dish.

You study and observe him as he tastes the hints of pumpkin and pecan, all punched deep with some spice. You fiddle with your fingers nervously. It’s a bad habit of yours. If there’s one thing that you wanted to get out of this audition, it was at least one yes. One yes is enough for you to be satisfied. But oh, how you want this so badly. 

“Wow.” He tilts his head with surprise. It’s almost as if he’s caught off guard. “It’s delicious.”

“R-Really?” You blurt out before shaking your head. “I mean—thank you. Thank you, chef, that means so much to me.”

“It tastes amazing.” He smiles before heading back to his seat. 

You’re starting off strong. You like what’s happening. Two more chefs and your fate will be determined. You hope fate is on your side this time. You know you deserve a break from all of your horrible chances with luck and fate. You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard for it. It would be a huge disappointment if you didn’t earn a spot in the competition. 

Next up is Chef Doyoung, who grabs his spoon and digs into your dish without uttering a single word. Once he’s finished tasting your dish, he folds his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Y/N, are you satisfied with how your dish turned out today?”

“More than satisfied, chef.” You mumble softly, but there’s a hint of a lack of confidence in your voice. You’re sure the chefs could pick up your low self-esteem. Chef Doyoung purses his lips into a tight line.

“Are you a perfectionist?” He asks. 

“I try to be, chef.” You answer.

“Well, perfectionism is one of the best qualities to have as a chef.” He adds. He clasps his hands together and sucks in a deep breath. “I taste a light hint of lemon, but I am immediately kicked with the spices. I could taste the hint of cloves that burst right through the hints of lemon. I think you have a great sense of flavours. You have a great sense of spices. This dish has the perfect balance of sweet, spicy, and savoury.”

“Thank you, chef.” You smile, not sure how to contain your happiness. 

“Well done,” he complements you before heading back to his seat. 

Last is Chef Jaehyun, who walks up to your station. Your smile immediately vanishes from your face and is replaced with horror. You’re especially nervous around him. With all the horrible encounters you’ve had with him, you wish he had a poor memory because you wouldn’t want someone like him to remember you. You’re looking everywhere but him. 

“I’m not a fan of sweets and desserts.” He says flat out. You wince. “That should be more than enough to make you nervous.”

“I hope that with this dish, you’ll start to appreciate desserts more, chef.” You mumble softly. It’s just barely above a whisper. You sound like a guilty child admitting fault after being caught lying. But you’re not lying, not at all. You’re just nervous. 

“is this dish going to change my mind? Is this dish going to be enough to change my mind about desserts?” He continues to grill you, and you let your head hang low.

“I just… want to impress you, chef.” More like prove you wrong. 

“I hope this dish doesn’t disappoint me.” His low voice sends shivers down your spine. He takes a spoonful of the cake and the truffle before shoving them into his mouth. 

It feels like it’s just the two of you at that very moment. It doesn’t feel like Chef Taeyong and Chef Doyoung are there. Your entire body feels tense just standing within his line of sight. He folds his arms and looks down at your dish. “It’s good. But it’s not good enough. There’s something that’s lacking in this dish. Do you know what that is?”

“What is it, chef?” You ask. 

“The presentation.” He answers. “Look at how you presented this dish to us. It does not look MasterChef-worthy. The presentation of this dish, I might say, is predictable. The presentation of a dish that you make is something you must pay attention to because if it doesn’t visibly look good, your customers would assume that it doesn’t taste good.”

“I understand, chef.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Chef Jaehyun definitely remembers you. Why? Because he loves nitpicking every single lacking detail of your cooking. He truly never changed. He’s still the same cold-hearted, selfish, rude prick. 

The three chefs discuss their decision. You continue to fiddle nervously with your fingers to calm yourself down, to distract you from what’s about to come. You’re so sure that you’re not going to get a spot in the competition, and it’s all going to be because of Chef Jae—

“Y/N?”

“Yes, chef?” You blurt out with surprised, caught off guard eyes. 

“It’s a yes for me,” Chef Taeyong smiles. 

“It’s a no for me,” Chef Jaehyun says. “Simply because you’re lacking in presenting your dishes. I think that is very crucial to becoming a chef. I was not impressed with your dish simply because I’m not a fan of desserts. I was hoping you would change my mind, but I guess it just fell short.”

“I understand, chef. I agree that I could’ve paid more attention to the plating.” You nod your head in agreement. For the first time, you agree with Chef Jaehyun. 

“Now, that leaves the pressure on me.” Chef Doyoung smirks. “If I say no, you won’t have a spot in the competition. But if I say yes, you will advance in the competition, and you will have your own MasterChef apron.”

“You won’t regret giving me a chance, chef. I want this so bad.”

Tension continues to fill the air. Chef Doyoung’s touch gaze softens, and you feel your tense posture relax. He clasps his hands together before saying, “it’s a yes for me. Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Please come up and take your MasterChef apron.” Chef Taeyong gestures for you to come up to the front. 

“Oh my gosh,” you sigh with relief. “I promise I’ll do my best, chef. Thank you so much for taking a huge risk on me.”

As you near the three chef judges, you stand in front of Chef Taeyong, who helps you put your apron on. You smile, taking his hand that he extends out to you to shake. Moving onto Chef Doyoung, you shake his hand, thanking him many times for giving you a chance. Last but not least, your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun. You’ve never been up close to Chef Jaehyun like this. He’s quite handsome, you think to yourself, but it’s also a shame that he’s such a rude, cold-hearted person. He extends his hand out to you for you to shake. When your hands interlock, you can’t help but notice how warm and soft his hands are. The both of you exchange such intense looks. You’re the first one to break away, pulling back your hand. 

“Long time no see. Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Chef Jaehyun.”

THE FOURTH TIME.

On a quest to become MasterChef, you are expected to learn how to work with a team of chefs. The round that awaits you is a team challenge, where you and a couple of other contestants will work together to cook up a full course meal. The team challenge usually occurs after the first mystery box challenge and elimination round. Sitting at the front of the kitchen is a box filled with two different coloured aprons, red and blue. These aprons will split everyone into two teams based on their apron colour. From the corner of your eye, you can see your station mate, Taeil, gawking at the box at the front. 

He turns towards you and whispers, “I hope we’re on the same team.”

You flash him a small smile. “I hope so too.”

Ever since the competition began, you have learned how to become a competitive chef. You’ve also learned how to make connections and new friendships. It’s what you have learned to value the most, especially working in an industry that relies heavily on networking and connections. Two rounds into the competition, you became friends with Taeil simply because he cooked up his dishes right next to you, and, over time, he also looked out for you and helped you with your dishes. He’s completely different from you. You’d like to think that he’s the complete opposite. But somehow, you both work in tune with each other. You wouldn’t have asked for a better station mate. Both of your different personalities shined the most in your cooked dishes. 

“Y/N, please step up to the front and pick your apron for the team challenge.” Chef Jaehyun calls out to you, and your heart beats out of your chest. You share a look with Taeil. 

As you make it to the front of the kitchen, you stick your hand into the black box to pull out a red apron. You avoid eye contact with Chef Jaehyun like you always do, but you could still feel his burning gaze. You always feel insecure and nervous around him. How embarrassing it must seem to him. 

“Taeil, your turn has arrived. Come up and pick your apron.” Chef Taeyong smiles. 

You wish Chef Jaehyun was like Chef Taeyong. Nice… sweet… genuine. He genuinely wanted every contestant to be successful, whether it be in their dishes or their confidence. You wish Chef Jaehyun would forget about all the horrible encounters you’ve had with him. You wish Chef Jaehyun would break out of his shell and turn his cold personality into a personality similar to his co-chef.

When Taeil arrives at the front and sticks his hand into the box, he pulls out not a red apron but… a blue one. The both of you share looks, and a pout can’t help but form across your lips. Chef Jaehyun notices your slight pout, and you immediately let it drop from your face. Taeil returns to his station, and you begin to overthink. Who are you going to work with? You’ve only become acquaintances with the rest of the contestants. Taeil is the only contestant you’ve become close to and the only contestant you consider a good friend. He’s the only contestant you see having a friendship with even after the competition ends. 

After all the contestants have been called up to choose their team, the chef judges have you gather together. You and Taeil wave goodbye as you both part to your own assigned teams, you with the red team and him with the blue team. As you walk over to your team, you can’t help but notice how you’re the only woman. Your teammates are Junhwa, Jay, Mason, and Euntae.

“Today’s challenge will be quite different because you’re all expected to work together as a team with your teammates.” Chef Doyoung announces. “For today’s team challenge, we will be headed to the beach to cater for a wedding.”

Your head shoots up. You’re doomed. You know that your team is done for even before the team challenge begins. Junhwa was just saved from the elimination test the other day because he had messed up his dish for the mystery box challenge. Jay hasn’t been up to par with his dishes and has yet to cook up his best dish in the competition. Like Junhwa, Mason had messed up his dish for the mystery box challenge but was saved from the elimination test by Chef Doyoung. Euntae, however, is the only one on the team that’s been performing well in the competition. But as for you… you’re not sure where you stand in this competition. 

“Let’s all head to the location and we’ll explain more about the team challenge.”

It’s the perfect day to have a wedding on the beach. The wind currents aren’t strong, but they bring a light warm breeze. The wedding takes place on a weekday which explains the small number of people hanging out at the beach. When you all arrive at the beach, the first thing you spot is two different cooking stations, differentiated by your respective team colours. You draw in a deep breath. This is going to be a long day. 

“Everyone, please gather around as we begin today’s challenge.”

Everyone gathers around the three young world-renowned chefs following the producer's command. You can see Chef Jaehyun staring right at you from the corner of your eye. He’s drilling two holes through the side of your head. It’s almost as if he’s praying and manifesting for you to mess up in the team challenge. You wouldn’t be surprised if you mess up and his prayers and manifestations were served right to him on a golden platter because his intensity and strive for perfection always cause you to do so. 

“Today, you will be cooking up a three-course meal for wedding guests at the beach. The couple that will be wedded later on today has laid out their menu and their expectations.” Chef Doyoung explains. 

You have learned one thing so far; never have a team of aspiring chefs competing in competition be in charge of cooking and serving your guests’ food. Why? Because there’s huge room for failure. Food poisoning? Traumatizing. Undercooked food? Horrifying. You wouldn’t imagine getting married and having scared chefs-in-the-making cater to your guests at the reception. To you, it sounded like a nightmare waiting to unfold right before your two eyes. And here you are now, living out that nightmare in disguise. 

“The menu consists of cranberry and brie bites for the appetizer, roasted pork loin on wild mushroom risotto for the main course, and a spiced carrot cake for the dessert.” Chef Taeyong reads off the menu that the wedding couple has put together for their guests. 

You hold in a sigh of relief. You think you could handle doing the appetizer and dessert. Baking is your expertise. It’s something your mother loved doing the most. Baking up a dessert can be daunting and taxing, but once you’ve mastered the basics, everything you pop into the oven will come out beautifully. You’ve spent most of your childhood sitting in the kitchen helping her make the desserts. You’ve spent most of your childhood sitting in the kitchen and breathing in the aroma of sweet desserts. 

You just hope that your team leader assigns you the appetizer or dessert. If not… you’re not sure how you’re going to put up a good performance. Will you be eliminated? Is this going to put you at risk for elimination? 

“Have you all picked a team leader?” Chef Jaehyun asks. 

On the blue team, Taeil raises his hand. You smile. Taeil is quite the introvert, but you know that he’ll be able to bring his team together and make the most out of it. On your team, Euntae raises his hand. It was predetermined that he would be the team leader mainly because he’s the only one who’s been doing well in the competition. 

“Taeil for team red and Euntae for team blue.” Chef Jaehyun notes it down on his notepad. “Alright. Let’s have you go over to your stations to start prepping for the service.”

“You will have one hour and thirty minutes to complete your three-course meal.” Chef Doyoung announces. 

“Please use your time wisely because regardless of whether your dishes are done, they will be served to the guests.” Chef Taeyong warns you. Everyone falls silent. “Your two goals are one, to make sure that there is food on the table for every single guest and two, that the food you serve has been cooked to perfection.” 

“Yes, chef.” Everyone says in unison.

“Alright. Get ready because your time starts in three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

“Go!”

Thankfully, you’ve been assigned to work on the spiced carrot cake. Euntae and Jay will work on the roasted pork loin on wild mushroom risotto. Euntae will work specifically on the roasted pork loin, and Jay will work specifically on the wild mushroom risotto. Mason and Junhwa will work together on the cranberry and brie bites. It’s been about twenty minutes since the timer started, and you’re almost done mixing the batter for the cake. You’ve added carrot bits and slices in the cake batter to make the carrot stand out when someone takes a slice out of it. You’re also planning on making a cream cheese frosting to drizzle on top of the cake. 

“Y/N, make sure you don’t go off track with the cake, alright? I know you’re excited, but we don’t have much time left.” Euntae commands, and you nod your head.

Euntae is such a perfectionist. It’s been obvious since the start of the competition. He’s been winning almost every challenge. If he wasn’t the winner of the challenge, he would most likely be second. Carrying your team must be difficult for him because most of his teammates have been performing poorly. 

“Yes, I’ll work faster.” 

“And make sure you follow the demo recipe.” He adds. “I don’t want you making something completely different from what we’re asked to do.”

You like to think of your dishes as an experiment. Most of the time, you depend heavily on your sense of taste and extensive knowledge of spices. Thus, this results in you neglecting recipe books and instructions. You like experimenting in your cooking because there’s a thrill when something turns out delicious. There’s a sense of excitement and surprise when two unlikely ingredients somehow pair well with each other. 

Euntae probably notices your experimental way of approaching your dishes. He doesn’t want you to fuck everything up. You can’t blame him for playing it safe. You would do the same thing. 

“This look different to you?” You ask, pointing to your cake batter.

He dips his fingers into the batter and tastes it. “Put more clove. I don’t taste the kick. I thought spices were your thing?”

You purse your lips into a tight line. He looks taken aback by your confused gaze. If there was one thing you wish you could change about yourself, it’s how you are easily readable through your facial expressions. Your emotions are easy to detect because they’re spread across your entire face. Knitted or raised eyebrows, jutted chin, pouty lips, you’re very expressive with your emotions. 

“It is. I did put in clove. Is it not enough?” You dip your finger into the batter to taste it yourself. Indeed, you taste the kick. Your gut tells you not to add any more of the spices because it will be too spicy for the guests if you add more. “I don’t think we should add more. I think it’s enough—”

“I don’t taste the spices, Y/N—”

“Well, I do—”

“But I’m the team leader, right?” He reminds you. You clamp your mouth shut. Where is all of this coming from? How could he talk to you like this? You could feel your gaze hardening at him. “Do you want me to save you a spot in the competition? You do, right? So follow what I tell you to do, and everything will be fine.”

You squint your eyes at him before shaking your head. “No way. I’m not letting you sabotage my cake.”

“And I am not letting you bring the entire team down. We cannot afford to lose.” Jay butts in as he shoves you aside to place a pan on the stove. You almost stumble back, and you’re on the verge of tears. 

“Ugh, this is ridiculous.” You mutter to yourself, grabbing your bowl of cake batter and moving to a different table in your station to work. You’re standing alone as the rest of your team gathers together to talk about how they will prepare the dishes. You feel left out. You feel like an outcast. You wish you were on Taeil’s team. 

You feel like this is planned. 

You feel like they’re planning to sabotage you. 

“Y/N?” Chef Doyoung calls out to you. 

You look over your shoulder to see him waving you over. You dust your hands off before heading up to him. You don’t know that Euntae walks over to your bowl of cake batter and puts in a couple of more teaspoons of clove and cinnamon behind your back. He adds a bit more than what is required. Chef Doyoung folds his arms at you. 

“Yes, chef?” You mumble. 

“Why aren’t you being included in your team?” He asks. He noticed, and that’s all that matters to you. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m not quite sure, chef. We have different opinions on how we should make the spiced carrot cake. Euntae thinks there’s not enough spice, while I think there’s more than enough.

“Trust your gut. But you should also keep in mind that this is a team challenge. You’re all supposed to work together as a team.” He reminds you. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Thank you, chef.”

Suddenly, Chef Jaehyun yells out. “Your spiced carrot cakes should be in the oven right now or will be undercooked!”

Upon returning to your station, you grab your bowl of cake batter to pour it into a baking pan. Hurriedly, you place it into the preheated oven. You do not want to mess this up. You can’t mess this up. If your team fails the challenge, you are at risk of being eliminated. 

You can’t afford to lose the competition. 

You can’t go home. 

You’re not surprised that the cranberry and brie bites were almost burnt out of the oven. You’re not surprised that your two teammates were running behind on time with the roasted pork loin and wild mushroom risotto. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if your team were unable to put out your dishes on time. 

When you pull out the tray of cranberry and brie bites, you place them on the table. One by one, you place the burnt ones aside and the good ones on the serving trays. Standing behind you, Mason and Junhwa continue to panic, not even bothering to help you save their dish that they’ve been assigned to do. 

“Y/N, what are you doing?” You feel yourself stiffen. Chef Jaehyun stands next to you and looks at the burnt and unburnt cranberry and brie bites. He clicks his tongue and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Were you the one assigned to do the bites?”

You shake your head. “No, chef.”

“Who was assigned for the cranberry and brie bites?” He asks your teammates. 

“Us, chef.” Mason answers. 

Chef Jaehyun points at you while looking at Mason. “And why is Y/N taking over your task?”

“Because she likes getting into everyone’s business—” You hear Euntae mutter underneath his breath. You’ve confirmed it: Euntae is plotting your elimination. He hates you. 

“She said she would help us salvage some of the cranberry and brie bites for the guests. She’s picking it out for us while we make another batch.” Junhwa explains. 

“And you’re both just standing there and watching her?” Chef Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows with anger. “Where’s your team leader?”

“Here, chef.” Euntae walks over. 

“Where is the direction, Euntae?” Chef Jaehyun frowns. You could see steam coming out of Chef Jaehyun’s nostrils. “Your teammates are lost. They’re panicking, and you’re just standing in front of your pan doing your own thing. You’re in your own little world, Euntae. It’s time to wake up.”

“Excuse me, I have to take out the carrot cake.” You mumble softly as you excuse yourself to head to the oven. You take a quick peek before putting on your oven mittens to take the cake pans out. 

It comes out beautifully. They’ve baked and risen to perfection. You can smell the strong aroma of spices. Hidden within the sponge cake are the grated bites of carrot, giving it a beautiful orange colour. From your periphery, you see Chef Jaehyun walking over to you. You hold in your breath. 

“Can I have a taste of the cake?” He asks. 

You slowly nodded your head. “Yes, chef.”

Chef Jaehyun digs into the cake with a small teaspoon while your teammates gather around to watch. He winces, and you wish you could disappear. You’ve noticed that he always winces and grimaces with disappointment whenever you mess up. It’s like you could tell what’s about to come before it even happens. 

“You were in charge of the cake, right, Y/N?” 

“Yes, chef.” You mumble. 

Clatter. He tosses the teaspoon onto the table and frustratingly runs a hand through his hair. “You can’t serve that. It’s too spicy. You’ve put too much clove and cinnamon.”

You look at him confusedly. Completely flabbergasted, you take a bite from the cake yourself and indeed, it’s too spicy. It’s overpowering the sweetness of the carrot and sugar. But wait—you never added any more clove or cinnamon. 

“You can’t serve this. This entire team is set up for failure. You cannot save yourselves from this challenge. Take off your aprons. You don’t have any more time to send out any dishes. You’ve completely failed the team challenge.”

You glance at Euntae, who avoids your gaze. He turns around and walks back to his pork loin and mushroom risotto pan. He tosses the pans into the sink out of frustration and anger. 

Euntae sabotaged you.

At the end of the team challenge, you and your teammates find yourselves standing in front of the three disappointed chefs. You’re too ashamed of yourself to look at them. You distract yourself by fiddling with your fingers. You were thinking of all the ‘what if’s’. What if you were on the blue team? What if you paid more attention to your teammates that were plotting your failure? What if you worked harder? What if—

“As you are all aware of what happened today, your team lost the challenge. This only means that not one, not two, but four of you will be eliminated from the competition.” Chef Doyoung says. 

“But first, we are going to tell you what you did wrong and where you all went wrong.” Chef Taeyong frowns, “as a team.”

“The first thing that went wrong were the cranberry and brie bites. They were overcooked to the point that they were burnt. You had only realized that they were burnt when you took them out of the oven too late, leaving you no time to make another batch.” Chef Doyoung explains. 

“We are aware of that, chef.” Mason and Junhwa speak in unison. 

“The second thing that went wrong was the spiced carrot cake. I was surprised that Y/N put too much clove and cinnamon into the batter. From your audition, Y/N, you had a good sense of the spices, so I figured this task wouldn’t be difficult to do.” Chef Taeyong outlines the second mistake of the team. 

“The third thing that went wrong had completely gone over our heads.” Chef Jaehyun begins. “We were wondering why out of all the dishes you were assigned, the roasted pork loin and mushroom risotto turned out fine.”

“It was because we—” Euntae begins.

“It was because you wanted to sabotage your own teammates. Am I right, Euntae?” Chef Jaehyun catches him red-handed. “Don’t try to lie to us. Don’t you dare try to lie to me because I saw it myself.”

“I did not sabotage any of my teammates—”

“Y/N, you know why your spiced carrot cake was too spicy?” Chef Jaehyun asks you. 

You courageously look into his eyes. “Why, chef?”

“Because your own teammate, Euntae, sabotaged your cake and added three tablespoons more of clove and cinnamon, which is way more than what we asked for in our demo.” Chef Jaehyun reveals. “I saw it happen right before my eyes. Euntae, if you were going to sabotage your teammate, you should’ve made sure that none of us chef judges would see it.”

“Chef, I—Y/N has always been doing her own thing in the competition, and I didn’t want her to sabotage our team by doing things the way she wants to,” Euntae explains. 

“You’re supposed to work together as a team.” Chef Taeyong shakes his head in disbelief. “Did you plan this all out so that Y/N would be eliminated from the competition? Don’t lie to us because I overheard you planning this out with the rest of your teammates.”

“I—”

“Okay. That’s enough.” Chef Doyoung raises up his hand to shut him up. “We have made up our minds on who will be leaving the competition.”

“The first contestant that will be saying goodbye is…”

You clench your eyes shut as you wait for your name to be called out. You hate everything that’s happening right now. You’ve never been so careless. Now, you pay the consequences. 

“Jay. Please say goodbye to your teammates.”

You feel your heart drop. 

“The second contestant that will be saying goodbye is…”

Your heartbeat begins to pick up its pace once again. Once your name is called out, you’re going to have to pack your things and head back home. 

“Junhwa. Please say goodbye to your teammates.”

You hold in your breath. 

“That leaves Y/N, Euntae, and Mason.”

You close your eyes again, praying that your name wouldn’t be called out. You’re already thinking about what you would say to your father if you’re eliminated from the competition. 

“Y/N, please say goodbye to your teammates…”

Your eyes flutter open. This is it. You’re officially eliminated from the competition. You shake hands with your two teammates who have completely sabotaged you. You’re keeping yourself together. You’re holding yourself back from bursting out into anger. 

“Because you will advance to the next round of the competition. Euntae and Mason, you are both eliminated from MasterChef, please take off your aprons.” 

Your heart stops. Wait.

“Wait, what?” You look at the chefs in shock.

“Y/N, you are the only one that will stay in the competition.” Chef Taeyong smiles. 

“It was a tough decision.” Chef Doyoung adds. 

“But we do not tolerate cheaters in this competition. You are innocent and had no bad intentions, Y/N, which is why you are safe from elimination.” Chef Jaehyun confirms everything for you. “But that does not mean you are safe from the remainder of the competition. What this means is that we will all be putting more pressure on you to be the best chef you say you are.”

“I will do my best, chef. I am confident that I will win MasterChef.” 

Chef Jaehyun purses his lips into a tight line. 

You feel your blood run cold. 

“Don’t make us regret choosing to save you from elimination.”

THE FIFTH TIME.

“Don’t make us regret choosing to save you from elimination.”

The pressure is all on you. Chef Jaehyun’s voice echoes throughout your head the entire hour that you’re granted to create a dish. In this round, all of the contestants are given a mystery box filled with random ingredients. In your mystery box, you were given beetroot, beef tenderloin, and blackberries. They are three completely different ingredients that you’re not quite sure will mesh well together. 

Five minutes before the timer started, you decided to make beef tenderloin with roasted beetroot, all covered by a blackberry sauce. And now here you are, thirty minutes in, and you just hope that your dish turns out well. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Chef Jaehyun.” You mumble softly, checking up on your beef tenderloin to see if it’s being cooked correctly on the skillet pan. You’re hoping to cook the tenderloin medium-rare to keep the monochrome colour of your dish. 

“What are you making for us today?” He asks. 

He’s distracting you. Whether it’s intentional or not, it’s breaking your focus. You clear your throat as you answer, “beef tenderloin with beetroot, all covered by a blackberry sauce.”

“Are you sure this is going to work out well? It seems quite… difficult to pull off.” He grabs a spoon and digs into the blackberry sauce that you have boiling in a saucepan. He tastes it and steps back, tilting his head as he loses himself in thought. “Interesting. You’re truly making this difficult for us, huh?”

What is he trying to say? You bite your lip, pretending to ignore him. “It should work out well. It is a mystery box challenge, after all. I’ve been given three ingredients that you never truly see together in a dish, but here we are.”

“The blackberry sauce is perfect. But regarding whether this blackberry sauce will complement your beef tenderloin and beetroot… you’ll have to prove that to us.” He gently places his spoon into your sink and moves on to the next contestant.

“You have fifteen minutes left! In about five minutes, you should all be plating your food!”

You turn off the stove to cool down your blackberry sauce. With fifteen minutes left, you need at least five minutes to let the beef tenderloin rest. You’re still not sure if it’s cooked medium-rare. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. You take the skillet pan off of the stove and transfer the beef tenderloin onto a wire rack for it to rest. As for your beetroot, you take each slice out to begin plating them.

“I’m not going to lie, that looks incredible, Y/N.” Taeil compliments you. You almost jump in surprise. You’ve been so focused on making sure you do well in this challenge that you forgot about Taeil. As you glance at him, he lets out a low chuckle. “Sorry for scaring you. I’ll shut up now.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I just hope it’s edible.” You crack a joke to ease your nervousness. He snorts.

“I’m sure it’s edible. You’ve made it this far, Y/N. You should give yourself more credit for your hard work.” He reassures you.

One minute left on the timer, and you’re placing the beef tenderloin right in between two slices of beetroot. To complete your dish, you drizzle blackberry sauce all over the dish. To amplify your dish even further, you take a couple of blackberries and scatter them across your dish. Overall, your dish is a dark magenta colour. Monochromatic. 

“Five…”

“Four…”

“Three… Two…”

“One! Time’s up!”

“Y/N, please bring up your dish.”

With shaky hands, you grab your plate and head up to the front. You place your dish down onto the table that stands right in front of the chef judges. Each one of them looks surprised to see what you have presented to them. Chef Doyoung is the first one to take a bite. He steps forward and grabs a knife and fork, slicing himself a bit of beetroot before poking at the beef tenderloin.

“How did you cook the beef tenderloin?” He asks.

You bite your lip. “I was hoping to cook it medium-rare. But I didn’t have enough time to let it rest, so I’m not quite sure if it turned out that way.”

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?” He insists. You slowly nod your head. Standing behind him, you can see Chef Jaehyun standing on his tiptoes to get a look at the tenderloin. As Chef Doyoung slices through the tenderloin and you sigh with relief. “It’s perfect. You doubt yourself a bit too much, Y/N. The tenderloin is indeed medium-rare.”

“Thank goodness.” You let out another sigh of relief.

He takes a bite. As he chews, you study him and wait for his reaction. When he finishes eating, he clasps his hands together and breaks out into a smile. “I think it’s quite delicious. I would definitely serve something like this in my restaurant.”

“Really? Oh wow… thank you, chef.” You beam.

“Blackberries, beef tenderloin, and beetroot. These three ingredients seem hard to cook together, but you balance them beautifully. The plating is amazing. You’ve improved your plating skills since the start of the competition. Overall, this dish is my favourite.” He places his cutlery down and flashes you one last smile. He heads back to stand next to Chef Taeyong, who’s the next one to step forward and taste your dish.

“First off, the dish looks lovely. I love the monochrome theme you have going on here. It amplifies your dish. But as for the taste, we shall find out.” Chef Taeyong takes a bite of the beetroot and tenderloin, making sure he dips it in the blackberry sauce. He tilts his head and lets out a chuckle. “That’s… amazing. You truly have a great sense of your spices. I wouldn’t even have thought of making a dish like this with these three ingredients. Well done, Y/N. You continue to perform well in this competition. I also see Chef Doyoung serving something like this at his restaurant.”

“Thank you, chef.” You hold in a happy sigh.

Next up is Chef Jaehyun, who barely waits for Chef Taeyong to step aside for him. He quirks an eyebrow at you before digging into your dish. “After we spoke earlier, I wondered how you could pull off a sour blackberry sauce with savoury beef tenderloin and beetroot. They are two unlikely tastes that should not be paired together.”

“It is a mystery box, so I just tried to work with what I was given. I hope it tastes good for you, Chef Jaehyun.” You avoid his eyes. But you could see him trying to look into them.

He takes a bite. He chews and swallows. He places his cutlery down and purses his lips into a tight line. “I’m going to be quite honest. I don’t like it. The sour blackberry sauce completely overpowers the savoury tenderloin and beetroot. However, I could definitely see why others may like it. This dish is catered for people with a specific palette. I’m not one of those people. The plating looks beautiful, however.”

“Thank you, chef.” You whisper.

“As I’ve said time and time again,” he says sternly, “you are making this extremely difficult for us, Y/N. You need to step up to the plate. I know you can do it. You have the tools and the talents to do it. You just need to use them.”

As he turns his back to you, you can feel your eyes well up with tears. Throughout this entire competition, you’ve learned that you not only want to win it, but you want to prove Chef Jaehyun wrong. He’s ignited a fire within you, a burning passion. His brutal honesty truly gets the best of you. 

If you can’t prove him wrong, what’s the point of continuing your journey?

He’s a world-renowned chef. He knows what tastes good and what doesn’t. He knows whether a chef will be successful in the field. He knows everything about the cooking and food industry. If he thinks you’re not fit enough, then maybe you’re truly not fit to be a chef.

You’ve already tried to step up to the plate, but he thinks it’s not enough.

You’ve already used all of your tools and talents, but he thinks it’s not enough.

You’re not enough.

What is considered enough?

He looks over his shoulder, and you hear him mutter.

“We saved you from elimination. You must prove to us that saving you was the best decision. You must prove to us that you are more worthy of winning than your teammates that were eliminated. Remember that.”

A tear almost slips from your eye.

You give up.

THE ONE TIME YOU PROVE HIM WRONG.

“I have come to the decision to withdraw from the competition.”

“If that’s your decision, then so be it. We regret seeing you go. Thank you for showing us your talent. You may go and pack your things because your journey at MasterChef ends here.”

Upon entering the huge kitchen, you head towards the light switches to turn on the spotlight for your workstation. The kitchen has never been so quiet nor has it been so peaceful. You feel your feet being glued to the ground, almost as if they’re keeping you from leaving. When you were a kid, you loved ditching your homework to spend time with your mother in the kitchen. You would even take a stool from the dining room to place it right next to her to have a full view of how she cooked your meals. Your home kitchen was your safe haven, your safe space, where you could truly be yourself. It was what brought you closer to your mother. It was what reminded you of your mother. 

But you had no choice. You force yourself, trudging your way towards your station to pack up all of your utensils. From cooking knives to ladles, you packed them away in a moving box. From your favorite fine China dishes to your custom-made chopsticks, you admired them one last time underneath the spotlight before tucking them away. You turn on the sink to dampen your towel. You wipe down your station one last time before wringing the towel out. Letting out a sigh, you wipe the beads of sweat that are forming on your forehead. This is it. Your journey at MasterChef ends here—

“What on earth are you doing?”

Looking up from your counter, you spot Jaehyun walking along the front of the space. He’s the last person you want to see. He’s the last person you want to talk to, especially right now. He has his hands tucked into his pockets as he makes his way towards you.

“I’m packing up my things.” You answer simply with a blank face.

“Why are you packing up your things? The competition isn’t over yet.” He finally makes it to your counter. Underneath the spotlight, he notices how bloodshot red your eyes are. You’ve cried all night over this competition and it brought you to your decision of withdrawing.

“The competition isn’t over yet for my fellow contestants,” you begin, “but the competition is over for me.”

“I’m not sure if I understand what you’re saying—”

“I’ve withdrawn from the competition.” You make it make sense for him. Jaehyun takes a couple of seconds for your words to sink in. Once he’s processes your words, his eyebrows furrow in confusion and frustration. 

“What?” He blurts out. “W-Why?”

You grow confused. That’s his reaction? “Shouldn’t you be happy that I’m leaving the competition? It’s one less thing to worry about, right? Your decision in choosing chefs to advance to the next round won’t be hard anymore because I’m leaving. Everything will be better without me—”

“Why would I be happy over a contestant’s voluntary withdrawal from the competition?” He cuts you off. 

You fall silent. Suddenly, you have no energy trying to defend yourself. With everything piling up, you’ve decided to give up. Everything that has happened to you in the past has led you to this moment. From spilling wine all over Jaehyun’s drink to messing up Jaehyun’s dish at your internship in Florence to your time here at MasterChef, it has brought you to the conclusion that maybe Jaehyun was right: you’re not fit or qualified enough to be a chef. 

“In a competition, you should not associate your emotions with your overall performance. Whatever you create here in the kitchen is what we judge.” He says sternly with his hands placed on top of the marble of your countertop. “You and I are both aware that this is a competition. You are aware that your performance and the dishes you create are going to be commented on by judges. But as judges, we make those comments, good or bad, are to help you improve.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like comments to me. I don’t feel like you’re helping me improve. I feel stuck with no direction given. I just feel like you have this predisposed idea of who I am after all those negative encounters we’ve had in the past which is why you treat me like this.” You finally get it off of your chest. You feel extremely vulnerable in front of Jaehyun. All of your emotions that you’ve held in for so long are beginning to hit the surface. “And this is why I’ve decided to do everyone all a favor and withdraw.”

He pushes himself off of the countertop and holds in a sigh. You let your head hang low. His eyes land on the cardboard box sitting on the floor. It’s filled with all of your cooking utensils. He sees an old washed out apron sitting right on top of all the pans and dishes. Stitched right near the upper corner of the apron is a name. It’s not your name, but your mother’s name. The apron has been through a lot. It’s been through  a lot of washes. It’s been through a lot of spills. But you have never once thought of throwing it out because it was the only thing you had left of your mother. Aside from all the memories you have of and with her, of course. 

“Well, withdrawing from the competition means that you’re aware that you have no confidence in yourself.” 

“I hope you’re hearing yourself right now.” You mutter softly.

“Do you really think you’re not fit to be a chef?” He questions. 

“Well, you sure make me feel like it—” You scoff. 

“Cook me your best dish, then. If I think it’s horrible, then maybe withdrawing is the best decision.”

“I thought you’ve already made it clear that I’m not fit or qualified enough to be a chef—”

“You have sixty minutes.”

“Chef—”

“Your time starts now.”

Before you could protest, Jaehyun turns his back towards you and walks away. You’re trying so hard not to burst out into flames. The urgency to flip him off makes your blood boil. As he takes his seat at the front behind the judges’ table, you bend down to finish packing up your things. Jaehyun seems to pick up that you’re not taking up the challenge. 

“You claim that I was discouraging you this entire competition. You said that you have potential. You want to prove me wrong, right?”

You stop in your tracks. You sure do. You want to prove Jaehyun wrong so badly. With a burning passion. When he sees that you’ve stopped, he knows that he’s slowly changing your mind. 

“This is your chance to prove me wrong. Prove to me that you deserve to stay in this competition.”

You will yourself back up, fiery eyes meeting him. He knows that he’s turned the gears in your head. After you’ve given it much thought, you decided that if you were going to withdraw from the competition, you might as well show him what kind of aspiring chef they’re going to regret letting go of. You guess it was a pride thing. But you’ve never wanted to prove Jeong Jaehyun wrong so badly until now.

Jaehyun stares at you as you walk away from your station and into the large pantry with all the fresh ingredients. A smirk slowly begins to spread across his lips. You’re grabbing many ingredients from the pantry. There are some questionable pairs but ever since the start of the competition, you’ve always been experimental with your dishes. Surprisingly, they always turn out delicious no matter how ambiguous the ingredients are relative to each other. You finally return to your workstation to begin cooking your dish.

“Fifty-five minutes left,” he yells out to you.

You slightly jump. It’s just the two of you in the kitchen. If you were quite honest, it felt a bit intimate. But you felt a lot of pressure on your shoulders. Here you are, cooking for a world-renowned chef, after voluntarily withdrawing from a competition that he judges for. Here you are, cooking for a world-renowned chef who asked you to cook him a dish to prove him wrong. 

A deconstructed pie. That is what you have in mind.

There are two ingredients that you’ve never paired together before; grapefruit and basil. You’re planning on making a deconstructed raspberry and basil pie. The pie will consist of basil jelly and grapefruit curd, topping it all off with Italian meringue. 

“What are you making?” Jaehyun asks when he walks up to your station.

“A pie.”

“In an hour?” Jaehyun questions. You slowly nod your head, trying to keep yourself focused on your work. “Pies usually take more than one hour to make.”

“It’s going to be a deconstructed pie. Grapefruit and basil. Instead of using the crust, I’ll be using graham cracker crumbles.” You explain while juicing your grapefruits. 

“Grapefruit and basil? Don’t you think that those two together would be a bit… risky?” 

You shake your head. “Basil goes well with lots of fruits. I wouldn’t be surprised if basil went well with grapefruit.”

“I’ve tried a grapefruit and basil pie once. I don’t remember where, but it was delicious. I have high expectations for this. Yours will be the second grapefruit and basil pie that I have ever had in my entire life.” He comments. What a way to put the pressure on you. You don’t say anything. “Alright, then I guess—”

“You’re distracting me.” You cut him off. “Do you mind going back to the front and sitting there while I continue doing whatever it is that I need to do?”

“Sassy,” he grins. “Fine. I’ll be up at the front. You have forty-five minutes left.”

Forty-five minutes left to prove yourself. At this point, you’re not trying to prove you are worthy of staying in the competition. You’re trying to prove that you are nothing what Jaehyun thinks of you. You’re trying to prove Jaehyun that you are fit and qualified enough to be a chef and that this is made for you. It is something you love doing. It is your passion.

Jaehyun plops his butt down onto his seat and watches you cook up your dish. You’re making grapefruit zest while making sure the grapefruit curd isn’t being overcooked. He finds himself staring at you with awe. 

When Jaehyun met you for the first time, he didn’t like you. You ruined his shirt. His favorite shirt. But another reason why he didn’t like you was because you didn’t look confident enough. When Jaehyun met you for the first time, you were hiding behind the executive chef, too humiliated by your own actions. He saw right through you at that moment. You had an inferiority complex. You were not confident enough in yourself. You were shy. You always doubted yourself. But when his eyes met yours, he saw a fire ignite within them. 

When Jaehyun met you for the second time, you weren’t a waitress. You were a line cook. A culinary intern. You ruined his dish. When Jaehyun met you for the second time, he still didn’t like you. It was because after all the months that have passed by, you still don’t look confident enough in yourself. It made him uneasy. But the only difference that time around is that although he still didn’t like you, he knew that eventually, he would, because he saw potential. Leaving the restaurant that day after tasting your subpar dish made him uneasy, knowing that he could’ve done something to lift your spirits up. He knew that he had to do something to make you learn how to be confident in your cooking because that was the first step to making perfect dishes. If you were confident to cook, your dishes would reflect it. When Jaehyun met you for the second time, he realized that he didn’t like you because you reminded him of himself.

When Jaehyun met you for the third time, you were taking a chance at MasterChef. It was a year since the last time he saw you. On your first and second encounters with Jaehyun, the both of you were in Florence. But the third time, the both of you are in Seoul. It almost seemed fated. When Jaehyun boarded the plane in Florence going back to Seoul, he couldn’t get you off his mind. What if he tried to lift you up? What was it that he could’ve done to encourage you? He regretted being cold to you. He knew that if he had just been a bit nicer, a bit more sincere, it would’ve further ignited the flame that was already lit within you. It was like the heavens had heard him and sent you to him for a third time. 

He knew this was his third and final chance to make things right.

“Twenty minutes!” He yells.

“I heard you loud and clear, geez.” You place a hand over your heart as you continue your work. 

You’re working on your Italian meringue. It was something you learned how to do while you were doing your culinary internship in Florence. Making Italian meringue is completely different from making regular meringue. It requires more precision and accuracy. It requires more attention to detail. If you mess up the meringue, you’re practically messing up the entire dish. 

You don’t want that happening. That’s the last thing you want.

While you’re waiting for the sugar water to boil at an ideal temperature, you’re beginning to plate your dish. Gently and slowly, you place a layer of grapefruit curd at the bottom of the bowl. It acts almost like a bed for the basil jelly and Italian meringue. At perfect timing, the sugar water has reached its ideal temperature and you immediately take it off of the stove. You walk over to your stand mixer, turning it on and gradually pouring in the sugar mixture into the egg whites. The egg whites slowly turn into a beautiful meringue. Sweet. Fluffy. Almost like marshmallows. Once you’ve poured the entire sugar mixture, you continue to mix the meringue until the bottom of the bowl runs cold to the touch. 

“Fifteen minutes!” 

Jaehyun waits for you to say something but nothing comes out. He checks up on you and realizes you’re too focused on placing the meringue into a piping bag. He never knew how pretty someone could look under the harsh light of the stage kitchen. The brightness only highlighted your features that were solely focused on creating the perfect deconstructed pie. 

This was a first for Jaehyun—being mesmerized by a contestant under his wing. And as his heart caught on fire, much like the gas stove he used to use when he learned to cook all those years ago, Jaehyun also hoped it would be the last.

Having the chance to see you again is definitely a chance given by fate. The idea that you could be gone from the competition out of your own will absolutely terrifies him. It’s the last thing he wants. He wants you to realize how much talent you have. He wants you to realize that you have a lot of potential. He wants to be close to you. He wants to get to know you more. He’s only been able to do that through your dishes. Lately, it’s been hard to look directly into your eyes because it makes him grow nervous. While you’re the only contestant that’s around his age, he’s never felt more connected to someone until he met you. You most likely feel the complete opposite of him, but this is because he has the tendency to push people away. He pushes you away because he’s scared that once he screws up this chance to make things right, he might not forgive himself. It’ll be all his fault.

“Ten minutes!”

You’re piping the Italian meringue onto the bed of grapefruit curd. After that, you’re slicing up the basil jelly into small cubes. You place the basil jelly cubes on top of the grapefruit curd along the Italian meringue. Lastly, you’re grabbing a handful of graham crumbles and scattering them carefully on top of the Italian meringue, basil jelly cubes, and the grapefruit curd. Your deconstructed pie is almost done. You rummage through the drawers to find a torch. You light the torch on to slightly toast the Italian meringue. You don’t want it to burn, you want a nice toast on the top. 

“Five minutes!”

You fix up your dish one last time with roughly four minutes to spare. You slowly head up to the front of the kitchen with your deconstructed pie. Jaehyun meets your gaze and he smiles. Oh, how you wish you could wipe that smile off of his face. Placing the dish right in front of him, you step back for him to taste it.

“Do you mind going through how you prepared this dish?” Jaehyun asks as he opens one of the drawers to pull out a spoon.

You clear your throat. “It is a deconstructed grapefruit and basil pie. It consists of grapefruit curd as a bed layer with basil jelly, graham crumbles, and Italian meringue.”

“Why did you choose to make Italian meringue instead of the usual meringue?” He asks.

“I chose to use Italian meringue for this dish because Italian meringue has a more marshmallowy, soft, fluffy consistency in comparison to ordinary meringue.” You explain. “I think the soft, fluffy texture of Italian meringue fits perfectly with the creamy grapefruit curd and basil jelly.”

“I’m going to take a spoonful of everything.” Jaehyun begins as he scoops a little bit of grapefruit curd mixed with graham crumbles, a single basil jelly, and a single Italian meringue. The both of you meet eyes and he puts the spoon into his mouth. 

As he’s taking a moment to savor the flavors, you let your head hang low. You’re expecting him to let out a frustrated sigh. You’re expecting him to come up with the rudest comment on your dish. It’s horrible. It tastes horrible. You’re waiting for those words to come out of his mouth—

“It’s… delicious.” 

Your head shoots up. He digs in for another spoonful of your deconstructed pie. “Sorry… what?”

“I said,” he says, “it’s delicious.”

You let out a breathless laugh. Were you hearing things right? Jaehyun quirks an eyebrow at you and you straighten up your posture. “Sorry, I just—this is the first time I’ve ever heard something nice coming from you.”

“It not only tastes delicious but it tastes familiar.” He mumbles softly. “It reminds me of this diner my parents used to take me to after basketball practice. The diner was somewhere near Yonsei University where my parents used to teach. That diner served grapefruit and basil pie. I think I was about twelve or thirteen years old. It’s been a while since I’ve had it but I could still remember it so vividly—”

“Mina’s Place?” You whisper.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows raise with surprise and his face is overcome with realization. Mina’s Place. The reason why he hasn’t been to the diner in a while is because it closed down when he made a visit. It was a sudden shutdown and his family never knew what happened to the owners. They were unique and both of his parents’ favorite place to wind down after a day of teaching culinary students. That diner’s grapefruit and basil pie had inspired him to follow the footsteps of his parents. It was the unusual pairing of basil and fruit that made him curious, it was what drove him to start cooking. 

“Yeah… Mina’s Place.” He mumbles softly. “It’s too bad it closed down too soon.”

Your head hangs low again. Mina’s Place was your mother’s product of hardwork and dedication. Your late mother had bought the space and created it into a diner where she was able to cook up whatever she wanted for her guests. It was what made her happy. But when your mother started to grow sick, it was your father that took over the diner in hopes that she would return. But your mother’s health continued to deteriorate until she passed away at an early age of forty-seven. Ever since her passing, the diner wasn’t the same. Your father had decided to sell the diner to a young couple who were looking to start their own restaurant. 

Your mother’s best-selling item on the menu was the grapefruit and basil pie. Until this day, you are grateful that she managed to pass the recipe down to you. You had loved and admired your mother’s love for cooking. You would spend most of your days watching her cook. You would ditch everything to learn how to cook, especially from your mother. The deconstructed pie that you had made for Jaehyun is a representation of how much you miss her and how much she inspired you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Jaehyun looks at you confusedly. “Thank you for cherishing my mother’s passion, for cherishing her love of cooking. She would be thrilled to know that there was someone who loved her grapefruit and basil pie.”

“Y-You’re joking,” he shakes his head. “She’s your mother?”

You purse your lips into a tight line, nodding. “We closed down the place because she died of cancer. It didn’t make sense to take on the diner after her passing. My father had no idea how to cook.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry—”

“I decided to study culinary arts because it’s the only thing that reminds me of her. It’s the only thing that brings me closer to her. I also wanted to open up a diner in her honor, to celebrate her life. I think that’s what she truly wanted… to spend most of her life with her family and at the diner.” You chuckle, wiping away a tear that slides down your cheek. “And don’t apologize. You had no idea.”

“But still, I—”

“I’ve decided to stick with my decision regardless of whether you enjoyed my dish or not. I’m going to withdraw from the competition.” You clasp your hands together. 

Jaehyun watches you as you carefully take off your apron. You place the apron right next to your dish before bowing to him. “Y/N, no—”

“Thank you for everything, chef. It was an honor cooking for you and I’m glad you enjoyed the pie.”

“Y/N, no, please. Stay here with—” Me. That’s what he wants to say. It almost terrifies him that this is the first thing that crosses his mind. It catches him off guard. He’s never had the urge to let you stay. He’s never been afraid of losing you. He’s never been terrified of slowly realizing your importance and your effect on him. “The other contestants. You’re worthy of the chance. Just like them.”

“I’ve already told the producers—”

“We can always take it back. You can always take it back.” He cuts you off. “Don’t withdraw. You have so many more things to accomplish, to conquer, to show off. You have talent, Y/N. Withdrawing from the competition will be the biggest mistake of your life—”

“Please don’t say all of that if you don’t even mean it—”

“I mean it. Stay.” He’s so close to begging. “Your mother was one of the few driving forces that led me to becoming a chef. If it weren’t for your mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

“You’re lying,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re just making this hard for me.”

“Stay for your mother. I’m sure she would want you to finish the competition regardless of whether you win or not—”

“But you wanted me gone since the first round—” Never. He never wanted you to leave. He wanted you to stay. He wanted to help you. He wanted to encourage you to work hard for your dreams. 

“Do it for her. Do it for Mina’s Place.”

You fall silent. For a moment, you could hear your mother’s voice chanting you on. You could hear her giggles and laughter. You could see her bright smile. It makes your eyes glassy. Your eyes trail down towards the pie that you made. As you fixate on the pie, you wipe away a few more tears.

“Yes, chef. I’ll stay.”

“How did you change her mind?”

Taeyong stands next to Jaehyun and watches you as you return your things back into their respective drawers at your station. Taeyong, along with Doyoung, had expected your station to be empty the following morning. But there you were, absolutely present, setting up your station before the next round of the competition begins. Jaehyun shoves his hands into his pockets and watches you intently, not being able to tear his gaze away from you.

“Let’s just say I worked my magic,” he answers softly. 

Doyoung glances at his co-judge, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. He follows Jaehyun’s line of sight and it lands on you. Taeyong seems to pick it up as well and a cheeky grin spreads across his lips. Taeyong has worked with Jaehyun for many years. They opened up one three-Michelin starred restaurant in Florence together and they ran the restaurant for many years. From Jaehyun’s inner thoughts to his feelings, Taeyong knows him so well. In fact, Taeyong hasn’t seen Jaehyun like this in so long. 

Work has been the main priority for Jaehyun. Taeyong was always trying to get his best friend to loosen up and meet some people while they were in Italy. But Jaehyun was always closed up and always stayed back in the kitchen. It was sad for Taeyong to see his best friend have a lack of social life—moreover, a dating life. Jaehyun’s last relationship was a couple of years ago and it ended on horrible terms. In particular, his breakup happened right before he boarded his flight to Italy. Taeyong knows that it left such a negative impact on his best friend. Jaehyun had promised to never fall in love again after his breakup, devoting his entire life to cooking and being in the kitchen… never leaving it once. 

But seeing how Jaehyun looks at you, Taeyong is starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Alright, chefs! We’ll be starting in ten minutes! Relax, grab a drink, and we’ll regroup.” Doyoung announces. 

You suck in a deep breath, heading towards the water dispenser to get yourself a cup of water. Taeil follows behind you, grabbing himself a cup of water too. He tilts his head in confusion, analyzing your every move. You seem to notice and when the two of you finally make it up to the balcony that oversees the entire kitchen, you face him.

“Is there something on my face?” You ask.

Taeil shakes his head. “No! No, not at all. I was just—I thought you said you were going to withdraw from the competition.”

You take a swig of your water. “I did. But… I changed my mind. I decided to stay.”

“What changed your mind?” Taeil questions. Everyone’s beginning to gather at the balcony before the new round of the competition begins. 

Before you could even answer Taeil’s question, Chef Jaehyun stands in the space between you two. He leans over the railing of the balcony. You and Taeil share a look. You clear your throat, adding a bit more distance between you and Chef Jaehyun. Taeil studies your body language and it’s almost as if he reads your mind. Ah, Chef Jaehyun changed your mind. 

“Ah, I see.” Taeil slowly nods his head. “Well, good luck, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do well in the next round.”

Taeil leaves you and Chef Jaehyun alone to talk with other contestants. You’re looking everywhere but at Chef Jaehyun, busying yourself by the water in your cup. 

Jaehyun can’t comprehend what’s going on with him. He can’t find the courage to look at you. But when he does, he can’t seem to breathe because his heartbeat picks up its pace. He clears his throat. “Are you ready for the next round?”

You finally look at him. You straighten up your posture. “Yes, chef.”

“Y/N, no, please. Stay here with—the other contestants. You’re worthy of the chance. Just like them.”

“Don’t withdraw. You have so many more things to accomplish, to conquer, to show off. You have talent, Y/N. Withdrawing from the competition will be the biggest mistake of your life.”

“I mean it. Stay. Your mother was one of the few driving forces that led me to becoming a chef. If it weren’t for your mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing in front of you right now.”

It’s hard to get rid of Chef Jaehyun’s voice out of your head. Whatever happened a couple of nights ago in the kitchen felt a bit too intimate. You were cooking one of your best dishes, a dish that meant a lot to you, for one of the most famous chefs in the world. It was just the two of you in the kitchen. Chef Jaehyun had begged you to stay in the competition. All of those events that night were driving you crazy.

What Chef Jaehyun does next snaps you out of your thoughts. He places his hand on your head and ruffles your hair. Your eyes slightly widen and you freeze. “Good luck.”

When he leaves to speak with the other contestants, you’re left all alone by the balcony with a heart beating so fast. You almost drop your cup of water but you catch yourself just in time. You place a hand over your heart as if it’ll help it stop beating so fast.

There’s been a shift between you and Chef Jaehyun ever since that night. 

You’ve always despised Chef Jaehyun. You didn’t even like him to begin with. Not one single bit. 

But now… you’re not quite sure anymore. 

“There are only two more rounds left in the competition. But this round determines who has a chance to be the next MasterChef. Who will make it to the final round of MasterChef? We shall find out! For today’s challenge, the three of you will be paired up with one of us to cook up a special meal for your own friends.”

There are three contestants left in the competition. Those contestants are you, Taeil, and Seokjin. Each one of you is called up to the front to pick a slip of paper from a box. The chef that’s on your chosen slip of paper will be the chef that you will be paired up to cook with. Whoever you end up with wouldn’t matter because the three of them are perfect in their own way.

Chef Jaehyun is a perfectionist. He’s also competitive. He loves making sure that the food he puts out is more than perfect. It gives him relief and satisfaction knowing that his customers love the food that he makes for them. He’s surely known all over the world for being overly meticulous. He’s also known for running many successful restaurants. He has strong ties with restaurants in Florence. Being paired up with Chef Jaehyun means that you are guaranteed to make a successful dish.

Chef Taeyong is also a perfectionist but not as competitive as Chef Jaehyun. He always makes sure that he thoroughly enjoys the process of cooking. He’s almost like a mother. He cooks for people because he genuinely enjoys doing it. It’s a hobby that he enjoys doing and somehow, it brings him fortune and success. Being paired up with Chef Taeyong means that you’ll not only make a perfect dish, but you’ll also have fun making it and create a story along with it.

Chef Doyoung is not a perfectionist, but he has a great sense of his ingredients. He knows the compatibility of ingredients, which is something every chef wants to have. It’s a trait that is rare to find in chefs. This trait had led him to win MasterChef when he was a contestant. To others, his dishes might be ambiguous but once people try it, they would have never imagined such a dish to work out. Being paired up with Chef Doyoung means that you are willing to take risks that will elevate your dish and bring out uniqueness. 

When you open your slip of paper, you almost let out a laugh.

Chef Jaehyun.

Fate loves playing games with you. 

“I got Chef Jaehyun,” you hold up your slip of paper. You and Taeil exchange looks. 

When your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun’s, he bites back a smile that’s threatening to spread across his lips. The two other chefs can’t seem to hold back their smiles either. You look down, growing too shy with all of the attention on you.

“I got Chef Taeyong.” Taeil shows his slip of paper.

“And that means I got Chef Doyoung.” Seokjin finishes, holding up his slip of paper.

“Perfect. We’ll start in five minutes. During these five minutes, we will all discuss with our partners and plan out our dishes accordingly.” Chef Taeyong announces.

When Chef Jaehyun heads over to your workstation, you can’t seem to compose yourself. Your mind is going insane. You’re not sure if you’re going to end up regretting having Chef Jaehyun as your partner or be grateful that he could help you secure a spot in the finals. 

“I’m surprised you’re not sick and tired of me yet,” he mumbles. “It’s just always gonna be you and me, huh?”

“I’m surprised you’re not sick and tired of me yet either,” you shrug your shoulders. 

“I guess fate likes the two of us together.” He says, avoiding your gaze.

“I’m sure fate hates me and is punishing me by pairing me up with you.” You mutter underneath your breath. 

“I heard that.”

“You were supposed to.”

Working together with Chef Jaehyun is a pain in the ass. 

“The sashimi should be cut like this!” 

“Yeah, I know! I can see it!” 

It’s been non-stop bickering for the past fifteen minutes. There’s forty-five minutes left before you have to send out your dishes to your friends. With the grin planted across Chef Jaehyun’s lips, you’re not sure if he’s doing this for fun or if he’s genuinely being strict and serious. 

“You’re in the way.” You nudge him aside to grab the bottle of Japanese mayonnaise. “Do you mind checking on my rolls?”

“They look good—”

“You didn’t even look at them!” You look at him as if he had ten heads.

“I don’t need to look at them to know if they look good or not.” He rolls his California rolls. “You need to be more confident in yourself. Do you think they look good?”

“Of course, because I made them.” You fold your arms.

“Then they look good! You have to trust yourself, Y/N.” He slices through the California roll before rolling each of them into Panko. “I feel like you don’t trust yourself enough.”

Chef Jaehyun’s right. You don’t trust yourself enough. When he notices how silent you’ve gotten, he finally takes a look at your California rolls. He analyzes the contents of your roll before smiling. “It looks perfect to me. You see, I didn’t need to look at them to tell you that they’re good. You put the right amount of crab meat. There’s a balance between the crab meat and rice. The roll is consistent. The rice is sticky enough. It’s perfect, Y/N, stop doubting yourself.”

“Really…?”

“Really. Now, get back to work because we don’t have much time left.”

As the two of you both get back to work, Jaehyun can’t seem to stop himself from smiling. If there was one thing he wanted to do with someone special to him, it was to make a meal together. He learns more about someone through the art of cooking. You’re an expert at baking and inherited those skills from your mother. You know your spices so well that they come to you so naturally. You know how to balance your ingredients. You know when two ingredients work and when it doesn’t. 

You’re the complete opposite of him. Jaehyun is an expert at everything but baking. He doesn’t have a great sense of spices and would often plan out his dishes carefully. Making a perfect dish doesn’t come naturally to him. He’s more on the practical side of cooking. Jaehyun thinks you’re the perfect match for him. Whether it be in the kitchen or as someone he’d like to pursue… he’s not sure. 

It would be a huge lie if Jaehyun wasn’t attracted to you. He doesn’t know when the switch happened. Maybe he liked you from the start. 

It’s almost as if fate had you written in his stars. When Jaehyun had been dumped by his ex-girlfriend right before he boarded his plane to Florence, he was devastated. He was devastated knowing that his ex-girlfriend whom he was planning on proposing to was cheating on him that entire time. He was devastated knowing that he lost one of his few passions; the love of his life. Heartbroken. Closed off. Focus on working. Focus on hustle culture. Never falling in love again. That was Jaehyun’s mindset.

But now that he thinks about it and all the encounters you’ve had with him, meeting you for the first time in Florence must be a fateful encounter. From spilling expensive wine all over his shirt to serving him a horrible dish as a culinary intern, no matter how embarrassing those experiences were, it must be fate. You make him worry about you. You make him think about you a bit too often. He goes out of his way to make sure nothing horrible happens to you. He doesn’t want you to be hurt.

Meeting you may be a special event that has happened in his life.

“Chef? Chef…?”

He snaps out of his thoughts. You’re giving him a funny look.

“You were saying?”

“You have some seaweed on your face, chef.”

“I-I do? Where—”

Before he could even wipe his face with his hands, you’re already reaching up to rub off the seaweed crumbs off of his face. He freezes in his spot. His eyes look down to meet yours. When you finally brush the seaweed crumbs off of his crimson red cheeks, your eyes shift to his. It’s your turn to freeze. Out of instinct, Jaehyun gently holds your arms. He holds you so carefully… almost cautiously. Somehow, he can’t speak. Somehow, everything that surrounds the two of you becomes nothing but white noise. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips. 

“You have fifteen minutes left! Fifteen minutes!”

You both are startled, repelling from each other. To calm your unsteady heart, you focus on finishing your last few sushi rolls before you begin plating them. Jaehyun stands more than a meter away from you, not making any sort of conversation with you for the remainder of the fifteen minutes. His heart is beating so fast that he’s afraid you could hear it ramming out of his chest.

It’s all starting to make sense. To him, at least.

He’s slowly—but surely—falling in love with you.

The morning of the final round of MasterChef, you wake up still in disbelief that you’re one step closer to becoming the champion. In the semi-finals, your great teamwork with Chef Jaehyun has secured you a spot in the finals, giving you a bigger chance of winning the entire competition. There’s no backing down for you. The possibility that your dreams can come true is still surreal for you and now you’re willing to put in all the effort to make sure that possibility becomes reality. 

As soon as you enter the kitchen, you spot none other than Taeil, who’s already setting up his station. You and Taeil both find it funny how although you’re both closest to each other and have become good friends in the competition, here you both are, competing against each other to become the champion of MasterChef. It’s a friendly competition. You can’t imagine finishing the entire competition with anyone else.

“Hello, chef.” You greet him.

“Good morning, Y/N. Today is the day.” He smiles. “Good luck. Let the MasterChef win.”

Everyone begins to gather around. Your friends and family and Taeil’s friends and family. The three chef judges make their ways to the front after getting their hair and makeup done. The kitchen is set up differently this time around. Instead of the normal rectangular work stations, the station is set up as a circle that surrounds both you and Taeil. The two of you will work on opposite sides of the circle.

As you and Taeil get settled and wait for filming to start, your eyes catch Chef Jaehyun’s. You’re almost surprised and a bit taken aback to catch him already looking at you. He’s dressed up quite nice today. He’s wearing an indigo suit with his hair styled back. He has such prominent eyebrows, you notice, since he’s always had his hair down. He’s… handsome. 

And he smiles at you.

Not knowing what to do in return, you flash him a small, timid smile before looking away. In just a few minutes, the final round will begin and your fate will be determined. You spot your father who’s wiping away tears with his handkerchief. Sitting in his arms is a framed picture of your mother. Your eyes slowly tear up but you blink them away. 

“We will start in three… two… one… action!”

“Welcome everyone, to the final round of MasterChef.”

“Today, we will find out who is this season’s MasterChef.”

“Will it be Taeil? Or Y/N? We shall find out!”

For the final round of MasterChef, you and Taeil will be cooking up three dishes for the chef judges. The first dish will be the appetizer. Following the first dish is the entree. The third and final dish is the dessert. You and Taeil were given a week to figure out what you’re going to serve the chef judges. You have decided to base your dishes around the theme of apples. All three of your dishes contain apples.

The first round of three begins and you’re cooking up your first dish. For your first dish, you’re creating a scotch quail egg that will rest on top of a bed of parsnips and potatoes. You envision this dish to replicate a bird’s nest, where the bed of parsnips and potatoes act as the nest that protects the scotch quail egg. The scotch quail egg is different, however, because you will incorporate apples into the coating that surrounds it. 

“Your time starts now!”

You and Taeil busy yourselves at your own sides of the circle. You’re beginning your dish by boiling a pot of water for your quail eggs. At the same time, you’re bringing out the ground pork and a couple of red gala apples. As you’re cutting the gala apples, you make sure to cut them into cubes to make them stand out in the scotch egg. From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun step off of the stage to head towards you.

“Hello, Y/N.” He greets you as he approaches your side of the station. “What are you making for us?”

“A scotch quail egg,” you mumble.

“With apples?” You hum in reply. “And what are you going to do with the potatoes?”

“I’m going to slice them up to replicate a nest for the quail eggs to rest on.” You answer.

“That seems like a bit of an easy dish, don’t you think?” He purses his lips into a tight line. “Do you think it’ll be enough to impress us?”

“Yes,” you mumble, trying your best not to let him distract you. 

“Are you sure your quail eggs are going to be cooked properly? They shouldn’t be—”

“Overcooked, yes, I am very much aware of that, Chef Jaehyun.” You cut him off.

He chuckles. Your ears perk up. “It seems like you don’t want me around. Am I distracting you?”

“Yes,” you answer and everyone around you laughs. “I guess you’ll just have to see what I have planned for you when I serve it to you later.”

“Sounds good. I’m excited to see what you bring to the table, Y/N.” He searches for your eyes, but they’re busy looking at other things. In reality, you’re just too shy to look at him. “Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, chef.”

Returning to your station, you keep the judges’ comments on your appetizer in your thoughts to improve on the next dish. The next dish that you’re going to cook up for them is the entree. Because your appetizer was easy to make, this left you ample time to begin preparing for your entree. You plan to serve the chef judges an entree dish that you call, rabbit two ways, in which you will serve them two different kinds of rabbit meat while incorporating bursts of apple flavors into it. The timer starts and you and Taeil get to work.

“I like how you presented this dish. It looks like a bird’s nest!”

Chef Taeyong’s comments on your dish had given you the motivation and desire to win the competition. From the start of the competition all the way to the final round, Chef Taeyong has been nothing but encouraging and genuine. All of his comments and advice shaped you into who you are as a chef today, at this very moment. 

“Although there are some burnt potatoes and parsnips in my dish, I think that it surprisingly complemented the sweet flavors of the apple in the scotch egg.”

Chef Doyoung, a MasterChef champion, is someone you always looked up to. You remember watching the season that he was competing in and having a gut feeling that he would make it to the final round. There was something special about Chef Doyoung and his dishes. Every dish he created had its own story, and of course, it would always look and taste delicious. Hearing his comments throughout your journey in the competition has also helped you learn and create a chef’s mindset. 

“I think I would definitely serve something like this as an appetizer at one of my restaurants. The presentation is spot on. I couldn’t have imagined a scotch egg to be presented in any other way. It’s almost as if you’re recreating nature, mother nature I would say, through your dishes. The flavors balance so well, which is not surprising because you’ve always had a good sense of your spices. Very well done, Y/N.”

Chef Jaehyun, although you disliked him at first, has truly been the one who wanted to see you succeed. Ever since he had tried to change your mind about withdrawing from the competition you couldn’t help but think that he was the one who truly liked you and your performance in the competition all along. If he didn’t try to change your mind, you would have probably withdrawn from the competition and returned back to the starting position of your journey. Chef Jaehyun has made you realize that if you truly want something, you have to work extremely hard for it. He made you realize that you’re better than what you think and most of the time, you’re just being hard on yourself. Someday, you plan on thanking him for being tough on you because it helped you on your journey to becoming a chef.

As you heat up the pan on the stove, you slice and dice up your apples to fuse them with the rabbit meat. Placing them onto the pan, you begin creating your artichoke puree that will amplify the flavors of the dish. From time to time, you could check up on the rabbit meat to make sure that you weren’t overcooking it. Overcooking rabbit meat would be horrifying because it would only mean that you would have to cook a new batch in so little time. It is extremely crucial to your dish. 

“You have fifteen minutes left!”

You spent the remaining fifteen minutes focusing on the rabbit meat since you have finished making the artichoke puree. After already beginning to plate your dish with the puree, you place the rabbit meat onto a frying rack to drain out the oil. Your hands are shaking out of complete nervousness. You want this so bad. But the fact that you’re serving a dish that you haven’t even tasted is such a huge risk to take. 

“Five minutes left!”

Drizzling a bit more of the artichoke puree on top of the rabbit meat, your nervous hands cause you to drizzle a bit more than needed. Pulling out a clean towel, you wipe off some of the puree that scattered on the sides of the dish. Glancing up at the time, you have one minute left to spare. You take these last few seconds to make sure everything looks good before handing them over to the servers.

“Time’s up! Hands up! Servers, please head to the back to serve the dishes.”

The last and final dish you are going to serve the chef judges is dessert. Dessert is your expertise. Everyone is aware that if there was one thing you excelled at as a chef, it would be through your desserts. You would like to thank your mother for exposing you to the world of baking at such a young age. It truly helped you later on in life, especially in this competition. For this dish, you decided to create a dish that represented a fallen apple or an apple that has fallen from an apple tree. The dish is simply an apple panna cotta, but you will be presenting it in such a way that it looks like an apple that has fallen onto the ground. This dish is going to tie up your ‘apple’ series and hopefully help you win the competition.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m back.” Chef Jaehyun smiles as he visits you at your station once again.

You smile back at him. “Hi, Chef Jaehyun. Is there anything I could help you with?”

“You could help me by letting me know what you’re planning on serving us for dessert.” He grins. 

“I guess you’ll just have to find out,” you mumble softly. 

“Mysterious.” He nods his head as he begins to move on to Taeil’s station. “You’re going to surprise us?”

“Yes, chef.” You reply.

“Well, I hope it’ll be worth the surprise! Good luck, Y/N.”

“Thanks, chef!”

For your dish, you’re not planning on serving them a whole apple. You’re going to recreate the apple by making apple jelly. The apple jelly will be shaped like an apple by pouring the mixture into a silicone tray. Since an apple has seeds in the middle, you are going to toast up some pine nut seeds and place them into the middle of the jelly mixture once it’s set. To recreate the red color of an apple, you are going to place a red glaze all over the jelly. Since this dish is going to replicate a fallen apple, you are going to recreate soil by grinding up a mixture of nuts and raisins. This will act as the bed for the fallen apple. Lastly, you are going to recreate the leaves of the apple tree by using sugar and water, and the twigs of the branches with a sweet dough.

“You have twenty minutes left!”

You pull out your silicone trays and you nearly have a heart attack. The jelly is not completely set but you don’t have much time left to keep it in the fridge. You still have to plate the entire dish. Taking the toasted pine nut seeds off the stove, you place them onto a tray to cool down. One by one, you shove pine nut seeds into the apple jelly. The seeds keep popping back up, which confirms that your apple jelly still isn’t set properly. But with the time you have left, you have to take this risk. 

“Ten minutes left!”

You begin plating your dish. To plate your apple-themed dessert, you grab the bowl of fake soil that you created with an assortment of nuts and raisins and scoop out two spoons to create a bed for the fallen apple. After you do that on three plates, you carefully pop out the apple jelly from the silicone tray and place it on top of the soil. Then, to decorate the apple jelly, you stick your fake twigs into the jelly and place sugar leaves on top. As you grab the pot of red glaze, you stop in your tracks. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun looking at you as you freeze in your spot. You look deep in thought. Suddenly, you shake your head and place the pot of red glaze back onto the countertop. He tilts his head in confusion.

“Ten seconds left!” 

Everyone is beginning to count down and you’re making final touches to your dish. Taeil, on the other hand, already has his hands up to indicate that he’s already done.

“Time’s up! Hands up! Servers, please take the dishes to the back.”

“Alright, Y/N, please tell us what you have served for us.”

Stepping forward, you clear your throat. Each one of them looks at you with anticipation, but it makes you grow even more nervous. You feel more nervous than how you were at the start of the competition. When your eyes meet Chef Jaehyun’s, your mind can’t help but go blank. He gives you an encouraging smile and it’s enough for you to snap back to your senses.

“For dessert, I’ve recreated a fallen apple by making an apple panna cotta. The fallen apple is supported by a bed of soil which is recreated with an assortment of nuts and raisins. To replicate the twigs and leaves of the apple tree, I’ve made a dough for the twigs and used a sugar glaze for the leaves.” You describe your dish. All of their eyebrows raise. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“I saw you holding a pot of red glaze earlier and I assumed that you were going to use that to glaze over the apple jelly. But I see that you’ve decided not to use it. Is there a particular reason why you decided to do that?” Chef Jaehyun asks as he’s digging into your dessert by taking a bit of everything onto his spoon.

“I decided not to use red glaze for this dish because I felt like it would look a little bit too fake. I also think that it wouldn’t match the overall colors of the dish.” You explain. 

Chef Jaehyun smiles. “I think that was good judgment on your part. If it doesn’t look like it belongs on your dish, then don’t add it. Well done, Y/N.”

“Let’s all dig in.” Chef Doyoung insists.

As they all taste your dish, you nervously fiddle with your fingers. After they have all finished tasting the different components of your dish, they look back up at you.

“I think this is a unique dish, Y/N.” Chef Taeyong begins. He’s the first one to make a comment on your dessert. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The presentation is spot on again. I really like the balance of sweetness from the apple jelly and the richness of the soil. I enjoyed this dish. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, chef.” You mumble.

“I agree with Chef Taeyong.” Chef Doyoung smiles. “I really like how the jelly melts in your mouth and how this is counteracted by the crunchy texture of the nuts. The presentation of the dish is executed very well, it looks like a fallen apple. You’ve done a beautiful job, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much, chef.” 

“I agree with all of them.” Chef Jaehyun chuckles. “I see why you decided not to add red glaze to this dish. It would have completely ruined it. I am not one who likes desserts, but this has completely changed it for me. I love how it has the right amount of sweetness. The nuts balance well with the sweetness due to it being so rich in flavor. I would also serve something like this at my restaurant. You’ve come a long way, Y/N. You’ve done an excellent job in finishing up your three-course apple menu.”

“Wow, that means a lot, thank you so much.” You sigh with relief.

“Alright, we’re going to have a bit of a meeting now.” Chef Doyoung chuckles. “The two of you can go back and meet with your family while we go over your dishes and choose this season’s MasterChef.”

“Good luck, Y/N and Taeil.”

“We have finally come to a decision.”

Everyone is gathered near the front of the kitchen. The three judges are standing right in front of you. You and Taeil share glances. Taeil flashes you a huge smile that you mirror back at him. It feels like a dream standing in front of the three chef judges, waiting for them to announce the winner of MasterChef. The journey that you took on this competition is one that you will never forget and one that will change your life forever. 

“It was hard to choose a winner for this season’s MasterChef.” Chef Taeyong begins. “Because the two of you have come such a long way since the start of the competition. The two of you have been through tough challenges and elimination tests, but you persevered, and that’s why you’re standing here today.”

“You have both improved and learned a lot since you started your journey here at MasterChef, and your journey continues even after the competition.” Chef Jaehyun clasps his hands together. “I personally think this season is my favorite. This final round has been special. You both served dishes that we have never even seen in the previous seasons of MasterChef. The both of you should be extremely proud of yourselves for making it this far.”

“But we do have to choose one MasterChef winner. The winner will be getting the first prize and a chance to open up their own restaurant or catering service. This will put you out into the field of cuisine and culinary arts, something that we’re all sure that you both came here for.” Chef Doyoung smiles. “Shall we announce the winner?”

“I think we should.” Chef Taeyong chuckles. “It was such a hard decision but…”

“But we have finally chosen this season’s MasterChef.” Chef Doyoung finishes it for him. “Y/N, Taeil, could you please step up to the front?”

You and Taeil head towards the front, hand in hand. Taeil gives your hand a tight, reassuring squeeze. Standing right behind him is his own family. Standing behind you are your relatives and your father, but also your mother, who’s looking down at you from the sky. 

“This season’s MasterChef is…”

You close your eyes. Your heart begins to beat faster than horsepower. You would feel like the only woman in the world if you hear your name being called out. Standing right here, with Taeil, in front of three world-renowned chefs, is another reminder of how much you wanted this, why you started this journey, and what you want out of it. It’s not only for you, but for your mother, who would always chase her dreams. 

“Congratulations, because you are this season’s MasterChef…”

“Y/N! Congratulations, you are this season’s MasterChef!”

It’s all a blur. Confetti shoots up into the air and falls down like snowflakes. You open your eyes when you feel yourself being attacked by your family with hugs. Taeil’s hand never lets go of yours and he pulls you into a tight, celebratory hug. Your eyes well up with tears. 

You can’t believe it.

If only your mother was here to celebrate your win with you. But you’re sure that she’s up in the skies, cheering you on, celebrating your achievement. It’s hard to breathe because it all feels so surreal. When you blink away your tears, your vision becomes clear again and you see the three chef judges coming in to join the big hug. Chef Jaehyun falls within sight and you share gazes.

He flashes you a wide, warm, genuine smile while mouthing ‘congratulations’.

Your heart skips a beat but you pay no attention to it.

You mouth back a ‘thank you, chef’.

AFTER MASTERCHEF.

It’s been a couple of months since you won MasterChef and you’ve been assigned to work alongside Chef Doyoung at one of his new branch locations. You’ve been assigned this job in the meantime while you renovate your new diner that you’ve always wished of running. 

If Jaehyun were to be honest, he was quite sad (or should he say, jealous, but he will never admit it) that you were assigned to work with Doyoung. The days after MasterChef have been uneventful and boring. Everywhere he looks, it reminds him of you. Everything he does, it reminds him of you. Stubborn to admit it, he misses it. He misses you.

And so when he steps inside of Doyoung’s new branch location of his restaurant, Doie, he hopes that he could catch you there. Why? Because finding you has been extremely difficult these days. 

As he steps into the restaurant, he heads straight to the front desk. The woman working at the front slowly looks up and upon realizing who’s standing right in front of her, her posture straightens.  

He flashes her a warm smile. “Is Chef Y/N here?” 

“O-Oh! You’re Chef Jaehyun!” She exclaims. 

He smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “Yes, that’s me. I decided to drop by and check this place out. I had only found out that Chef Y/N was assigned to work here in the meantime before the opening of Mina’s Place.” 

“Unfortunately, Chef Y/N already left. She left a couple of hours ago to attend to some personal matters.” The woman frowns, spinning a pen in between her fingers. 

“Oh, is that so?” He’s trying so hard to hide the disappointment in his eyes. “I guess I was a bit too late.”

“Do you want me to pass a message on to her, chef?” She asks insistently. 

“Oh, there’s no need. I guess I’ll just drop by tomorrow.” He says with defeat.

Why is it that it used to be so easy to bump into you? Why is it that it’s become so difficult to bump into you now? Why is it so hard to cross paths with you now? It’s been so easy to find you before. But now, when he tries to find you, he can’t. It’s grown into a difficult game of hide and seek.

“Actually—” Jaehyun begins before cutting himself off. “I’ll be right back.”

He rushes out of the restaurant and spots a flower shop right across the road. Stepping inside of the flower shop, he’s greeted by an elderly woman who’s watering a fresh batch of tulips. She places the pail of water back onto the black and white tiled floor. 

“Hello, young man, how can I help you?” 

He lets his eyes wander around the shop. He can’t seem to figure out what to get. 

“I’ve been wanting to get a bouquet of flowers, but I’m not quite sure which flowers to put together.” He scratches the back of his head. 

She giggles sheepishly. “Is it for a young lady that’s taken your interest?”

He’s caught off guard by the question. He lets out a shaky, breathy laugh. There’s no way he could be feeling this way for you. Even if he does feel like you’re someone special to him, it’s something that will take a while for him to understand. Liking you is one thing but falling in love with you is another.

“I—I mean—Yeah, I guess so?” He sounds confused.

She tilts her head. “You guess so? Well, young man, the fact that you’ve stepped foot into my shop to get a lovely lady a bouquet of flowers must mean something. She must be someone special.”

The old woman has a point. He wouldn’t be going out of his way to do all of this for you. He wouldn’t be trying to find you. He wouldn’t have the urge to talk to you, to get to know you more. 

“I guess you’re right,” he slowly nods his head when everything slowly becomes clear for him. “Alright. Do you mind putting a bouquet together for a young woman that I’ve taken interest in? I want her to like me just as much as I like her.”

The old woman breaks out into a wide smile. 

“Right away, sir.” 

When the bouquet of white daisies and red tulips is wrapped and bundled together with a plastic wrap, Jaehyun pays for the old woman’s efforts and time before heading back to the restaurant across the road. But before he leaves the flower shop, the old woman gives him words of encouragement. He gives her two thumbs up and heads back. 

The woman standing at the front eyes the bouquet of flowers in his hands when he enters. He places the bouquet on top of the counter. “I’m back.”

“You’re back, indeed.”

“Do you mind giving Y/N these flowers when he comes in tomorrow? You could place them in a vase to keep them fresh too.” He asks.

She nods her head. “Will do, chef.”

“Alright, thank you so much. I’ll head on out now—”

“Chef Jaehyun, are you sure you’re just going to give her the bouquet of flowers without a note?”

Shoot. He turns back around. “You’re right, I didn’t write a note.”

She slides over a stack of sticky notes and her own pen. “Here you go, chef.”

He grabs the stack of sticky notes and walks over to one of the tables for two. He plops his butt down onto one of the chairs and thinks about what to write and what type of note he wants to leave you. To him, it seems like he’s been sitting there for hours. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he’ll have to say them one by one.

To Y/N, 

I dropped by Doie in hopes of seeing you. Would love to meet and catch up with you over a cup of coffee. I miss hope that we could get in touch soon. On the back of the note is my number. Hope to hear from you soon.

Jaehyun

“A short video?”

The production team exchanges looks before nodding their head. Jaehyun has been called to have a meeting with one of the food companies that he helps endorse. The company is popular for their gluten-free food products. From gluten-free flour to gluten-free bread, the company most likely carries it. It was the first brand that Jaehyun endorsed mainly because he’s always been picky with his food, especially since his mother’s allergic to gluten. 

“Yes! With Chef Y/N! It’s a promotion video for one of the new brands we’re carrying here at the supermarket. We’re planning on having the both of you shop around one of our supermarkets and use the groceries to create a dessert for Valentine’s Day.” One of the PR managers explains.

“Did Chef Y/N agree to do the video?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes, she just got back to us this morning. She’s interested in doing the video.” Another PR joins the conversation. 

“Great. I’ll do the video.”

Everyone looks at each other weirdly. That was such a fast response. They always had trouble negotiating with Jaehyun mainly because of his busy life. But this time, it was different.

“O-Oh? That’s perfect, chef!”

“When do we start?”

A couple of weeks later, you arrive at a supermarket that’s been closed off to the public until noon. It’s been a while since you last saw Chef Jaehyun. You were quite surprised to hear that he had decided to do the cooking video with you. You were even more surprised when the PR team had told you that the MasterChef viewers had voted for the two of you to collaborate for the video. As for the reasons why the viewers voted for the two of you specifically… you still have no idea.

“Chef Jaehyun will be arriving in a bit, he’s running late because of traffic.” The videographer informs you. 

“No worries, I’ll keep myself busy in the meantime.” You smile, heading inside of the supermarket to take a look at the groceries. 

You start off in the produce section, trying to see what you can come up with for the video. There are fresh large strawberries that you think would be perfect for chocolate-covered strawberries. After all, you and Chef Jaehyun are supposed to create a dish that would be perfect for Valentine’s Day. You try to look for other alternatives, steering away from doing the basics. 

“Miss Y/N? Chef Jaehyun has arrived. He’s just outside of the supermarket.” One of the PR interns approaches you, almost startling you.

“Oh! Yes, alright, I’ll head on over with you right now.” You join her as you both walk back outside of the supermarket. 

As you walk through the automatic doors, the first thing you spot is a tall figure standing a few meters away. He’s talking to the videographers and the PR interns who are telling him what they have planned for the video. You hesitantly approach them, mumbling a soft, “hello.”

When Chef Jaehyun turns towards you, you see his eyes slightly widen before a flame ignites within them. For a brief moment, you get lost in his eyes because you find yourself focusing more on trying to steady your fast heartbeat. When you come back to your senses, you’re the first to look away. 

He clears his throat and you feel his shoulder brush against yours. “Nice seeing you again, Y/N.”

“Nice seeing you too, chef.” You mumble softly. Why do you feel shy?

“Are the two of you ready to start filming? From the scripts that we sent you, it’s going to be a casual type of video.” The videographer explains. “Just to briefly brush over what we have planned for the video, the two of you will be shopping for groceries that the company carries and sells and you will both cook up a dish together. It will be Valentine’s Day themed.”

The both of you slowly nod. “Are you ready?”

You look up to see Chef Jaehyun already looking down at you. You flash him a small, timid smile. “Ready, chef.”

“Perfect! Let’s start with the filming. Be yourselves and of course, have fun!” The videographer clasps his hands together and he pulls out his camera. 

You brace yourself.

It’s going to be a long day, that’s for sure.

“Hello everyone, I’m Chef Jaehyun.”

“And I’m Chef Y/N.” 

“And today, we’ll be shopping around for ingredients to cook up a meal that you could cook for your loved ones this Valentine’s Day.” 

Chef Jaehyun pushes the cart while you look for some fresh fruits in the produce section. The two of you have agreed to cook two different dishes, a dessert and a main course. Chef Jaehyun will be in charge of the main course dish while you will be in charge of the dessert. 

“To spice things up, we have a couple of questions to answer while we shop.” You begin while you’re grabbing a bag of raspberries. 

“You’re going to play the couple game!” One of the PR interns says from her script. Your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets. You don’t remember a couple game written in the script. From the surprised look on Chef Jaehyun’s face, you don’t think he remembers it either. “We will give you two options and the both of you will answer on the count of three. Think of it as a compatibility game!”

“C-Couple game? Compatibility game?” Chef Jaehyun chuckles sheepishly. 

“First question! Fried chicken or pizza? One… two… three!”

“Chicken.” You both answer in unison.

“Wow, the compatibility is strong right off the bat.” The PR intern giggles. “Next question! Snow or rain? One… two… three!”

“Snow.” You both answer in unison again. 

“Wow, this must be fate.” The PR intern swoons. “Third question! Ice cream or cake? One… two… three!”

“Ice cream.” Chef Jaehyun answers.

“Cake.” You answer.

“The last few questions will only get interesting from here. Next question!” The PR exclaims. “Fall in love with your childhood best friend or fall in love with a celebrity! One… two… three!” 

“Fall in love with your childhood best friend.” You both answer.

“Interesting. Next question!” The PR continues to read off of her list of questions. “Choose the one who likes me or choose the one I like the most? One… two… three!”

“The one that I like the most.” You both answer. The PR intern grins as if her mission was accomplished successfully. 

After all of your horrible encounters with Chef Jaehyun, this was one of the few times that you were actually on the same page as him. The only times that you felt like he was on your side was when he begged you to stay in the competition and when he was your partner for semi-finals. You were slowly starting to forget about cold-hearted Chef Jaehyun, the perfectionist that loved to nitpick every single detail of yours. This side of Chef Jaehyun… is a side that you want to see often. 

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with him.

“Last question before we let you finish grocery shopping,” the PR intern snaps you out of your thoughts. “What are your ideal types?”

“I like someone who is easy to talk to, someone that I can communicate with without feeling embarrassed. It’s nice to have someone who’s transparent.” Chef Jaehyun is the first to answer the question. 

“How about you, Chef Y/N?” 

You think about it for a moment. You hum to yourself before shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t think I have an ideal type.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Because I think that no matter what you like in a certain person, when you actually fall in love with someone, that person could be completely different.” You explain.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Y/N.” Chef Jaehyun nudges you.

It’s an odd gesture, coming from him. You bite your lip, nudging him back. 

“If there’s a hopeless romantic out of the two of us, it would be you, Chef Jaehyun.”

The PR intern chuckles.

“It would definitely be you, Chef Jaehyun, since you were born on Valentine’s Day!”

At the end of the shoot, you and Chef Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning up the kitchen before leaving the set. You’re busy washing the dishes and he’s busy putting the ingredients back into the cupboards and fridge. From the corner of your eye, you can see Chef Jaehyun leaning against the countertop, watching you. You almost drop the dishes into the sink, catching yourself right in time.

“How have you been?” You hear him ask.

You bite your lip. “I’ve been well, chef. You?”

“Better now that I’ve seen you again.” 

You clear your throat, letting out a lighthearted chuckle. “I’m not sure how you want me to react to that, chef.”

“Did you… get them?” 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “Get the…?”

“The flowers…?”

“Flowers…?” You place the dishes back into the hot bath before gasping. “Oh, right! The flowers! Yes, I got them. Thank you, Chef Jaehyun. You didn’t really need to.”

“I wanted to give you a gift since I heard that you’re planning on opening a diner,” he mumbles softly. Is he… blushing?

“It’s true.” You smile. “I’m going to make my mother’s dreams come true.”

“I’m sure she’s proud of you.” He flashes you a smile. It’s a different smile. This time, you can feel the genuinity he’s expressing. It feels sincere. “Have you finalized a grand opening date?”

You turn off the faucet and wipe your hands with a towel. As you turn towards Chef Jaehyun, you don’t realize how close he’s been standing to you. You almost stumble back. Gulping nervously, you nod your head. “Sometime in July.”

“I’ll keep my schedules flexible in July, then. I’d love to join you for the grand opening.” 

“Oh, you don’t need to, chef. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”

“If it’s for you, why not?” 

The two of you stare at each other. His eyes slowly trail down to your lips. You lick them out of instinct, frozen with your feet glued to the floor. As you fake a cough, he regains his focus and is the first to pull away from you. 

“Jaehyun? We have to get going for your next schedule.” His manager calls out to him.

The two of you glance at each other. He gives you a look you can’t seem to read. Jaehyun doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay with you. He wants to spend more time with you. He’s aching to get to know you more. There’s a sense of urgency and neediness. 

“You should get going, chef.” You mumble shyly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to your next schedule.”

What Chef Jaehyun does next completely catches you off guard. He ruffles your hair before caressing your cheek with the same hand. With widened and surprised eyes, your heartbeat picks up its pace. He smiles. It feels warm. He feels warm.

“I won’t be able to see you for a while but Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N. You don’t know how happy I am to see you again.”

When Chef Jaehyun’s figure gets smaller and smaller, your heart feels tighter and tighter. You’re not sure how Chef Jaehyun feels about you. But what you’re sure of is that you no longer despise Chef Jaehyun. 

You’re slowly falling in love with him.

[NEW] COOK UP HEARTWARMING VALENTINE’S DAY DISHES W/ CHEF JAEHYUN AND MASTERCHEF CHAMPION Y/N  1.2m views | 56k+ likes | two days ago

COMMENTS:

[pinned comment] Chef Jaehyun Official: Happy Valentine’s Day everyone~ #chefjaehyunxYN should we do another video together?

pastrychef_amy21: omg is it just me or does anyone feel like chef jaehyun has a crush on chef y/n?? doggolover312 replied: omg I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE THAT NOTICED.  luminescencexx replied: the way he looks at her >> get you a man like chef jaehyun ugh he’s handsome AND he cooks??? perfect package kjhdskjfh

galaxiesandstarsxo: they act like an old married couple sobs i always found their bickering cute since masterchef doggolover312 replied: but doesn’t chef jaehyun have a gf? i swear he did galaxiesandstarsxo replied: i think they broke up a long time ago? they were supposed to get married apparently… but something happened. they even unfollowed each other on socials doggolover312 replied: omg if that’s the case… chef y/n you still have a chance!!

It’s your last day helping out at Doie and it feels bittersweet to be leaving. Here, you close a chapter to open another one. You’ve been helping out in the kitchen at Doie for months, right after you had won MasterChef. The time you were at Doie is something you’ll cherish. But you’re moving on to make bigger moves, making you and your mother’s dreams come true as one of them. 

On your last day of work, Chef Taeyong decides to surprise you with a visit. You’re in the middle of cooking up a dish when he arrives and asks you if the two of you could have a chat. You both find yourselves sitting in the loft that’s been closed to customers for the season. 

“How have you been?” He asks. 

You smile. “I’ve been well, chef. I’ve been enjoying every single day.”

He chuckles. “I can definitely see that you’re enjoying every passing day. You’re a MasterChef, after all.”

You cut right to the chase. “Am I in trouble, chef?”

“No, not at all. Far from it, actually.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to talk to you about something… or should I say, about someone.”

“Who?” 

He snorts. “Jaehyun, of course. Have you seen him recently?”

“Yes, chef. We filmed a video together for Valentine’s Day with one of his sponsors—”

“Now that makes sense!” He exclaims. He sighs with relief. “He’s been acting incredibly weird lately. In fact, he’s been acting weird for the longest time, since MasterChef, and it’s been driving me nuts.”

“Chef Jaehyun? Acting weirdly?” You ask confusedly. 

“How do I put this?” He sighs. “He likes you, Y/N. You may not think he does and he may not think he does either, but I see it. It’s crystal clear. It’s as clear as day.” 

You fold over, bursting out into laughter. It’s the reaction he expected from you. He got the same exact reaction from Jaehyun. Complete disbelief. Complete obliviousness. 

“Oh no, chef. I don’t think he likes me—”

“He does, Y/N.” Chef Taeyong cuts you off. “Listen, before his flight to Florence, his ex-girlfriend dumped him because she was cheating on him. Ever since then, Jaehyun has been such a cold-hearted person and worked his ass off. But I always felt that there was something off about him.”

“He got dumped before flying out to Florence?” You purse your lips into a tight line. “Maybe that’s why he was such in a bad mood when I spilled wine all over his shirt—”

“You both met each other before MasterChef?” Chef Taeyong flips out, eyes rounding like saucers. “In Florence, too?!”

“Yes…?”

“Makes sense.” He squints his eyes. “He kept talking about this restaurant, specifically about this waitress who somehow became a culinary intern—”

“That was me—”

“—and how he kind of regretted being so cold and rude to her because he truly saw potential and thought that she needed a boost of confidence—”

“He saw potential in me even back then—”

“—wait, the girl he was talking about was you?!” His jaw drops. 

You slowly nod your head. “I was the waitress who spilled wine all over his shirt. I was the culinary intern who messed up his dish. All those horrifying encounters with Chef Jaehyun had led me to think that he absolutely hated me. He was blunt and honest, which made my unconfident self to join MasterChef to prove him wrong.”

“And you did.” Chef Taeyong smiles before it turns into a grin. “But Y/N, you got it all wrong.”

“I got it all wrong? How?”

“Jaehyun never hated you. He never disliked you.” He confesses. “In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Jaehyun’s a weird guy, I know.”

“H-How? I don’t—I don’t understand.” You scratch the back of your neck, face filled with confusion. 

“When he told me about a waitress spilling wine all over his shirt, he laughed and said it was like fate was telling him to wake up.” He chuckles. “When he told me about a culinary intern messing up his dish, he couldn’t help but regret being harsh to the intern and wanted to go back but he already had to fly back to Seoul.” 

You’ve never really thought of how your encounters with Chef Jaehyun looked through his point of view. Now that Chef Taeyong was laying it all out for you, you were slowly realizing that your low self-esteem and confidence caused you to immediately conclude that he hated you. 

“Huh—”

“When you auditioned for MasterChef, Jaehyun actually wanted to say yes. In fact, he was the first one to say yes, but the producers of the show told him to say no to add more drama for the viewers.” He continues. “For your team challenge, Jaehyun was the one who spotted Euntae sabotaging your cake.” 

“It was him?” You whisper. 

He nods his head. “When we were deciding who to eliminate after your team lost the challenge, Jaehyun was proactive in convincing us to keep you in the competition. You were close to being eliminated but Jaehyun kept telling us that you had potential.” 

He saw potential in you. He was persistent in keeping you in the competition. In the end, Chef Jaehyun really cared. 

“I—”

“The day after I found out that Jaehyun stopped you from voluntarily withdrawing from the competition, I was curious as to how he managed to make you stay.” He smiles. “But when I looked at him look at you, I had already gotten the answer.”

You fall silent. Chef Jaehyun did everything to make sure that you felt like you were fit to be a chef. But you were just closed minded and immediately shut him down. All of his actions translated into intentions out of hate. You wish you had known, perhaps you would’ve developed a great friendship with him. You’re surprised he’s still coming back into your life to try at being friends with you after being so rude to him. 

“I’ve worked with Jaehyun for many years. I know him so well. I can read him like a book. When I saw how Jaehyun looked at you that day, I felt relieved because I’ve never seen him like that for so long.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “If my best friend decides to pursue you, just know that he has good intentions and that it’s a huge step for him, especially after a heart crushing breakup.”

“That is, if he really likes me.” 

“Oh trust me, honey, he does.”

Chef Taeyong lets out a sigh. The two of you stand there, looking out at the blue skies that overlook the busy streets of Seoul. Your life may be busy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else. You’re living out your dreams. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, chef?”

“The reason why I dropped by was because I wanted to give you this.” He pulls out an envelope from a bag filled with many other identical envelopes. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Can I open it in front of you?”

He hums in reply. “Go ahead.”

As you open the envelope, you pull out a white card. It’s almost as if you could read his mind. As you slowly open the white card, you let out a gasp.

“You’re getting married?!”

THE GRAND OPENING.

It’s been a year since you won MasterChef. It’s also been a year since you started planning to start your own diner in memory of your mother. Mina’s Place. You decided to keep the name because it’s one of the few things that remind you of her. You even made sure the interior and exterior of the diner looked exactly how it did when the diner was still open. From the yellow seats and booths, the use of purple and lavender lighting to the gray tiled floors, you kept everything the same. The only difference is that the diner is located in a different area, right in the middle of busy Seoul. 

Today is the grand opening of the diner and you’re expected to serve a large group of customers. PR and advertisement has been your best friend, but your appearance and your win at MasterChef drove the anticipation of the diner’s grand opening even further. 

You arrive at the diner at six in the morning to prepare all of the ingredients. From the ingredients to the grapefruit and basil pie to the ingredients for your Korean brisket and kimchi burger, you had prepared them all on your own. It was only until eight that your co-chefs and waiters and waitresses had arrived to prepare for the grand opening. Around eleven-thirty, customers, Instagram influencers and foodies began to show up at the door, forming a long line around the strip.

“Chef Y/N?” One of the waitresses, Luna, pops her head through the door.

You’re crouching down, filling up the mini fridge with cartons of milk. You dust your hands off your apron and you slowly get up. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Someone’s here to see you,” she flashes you a warm smile.

You look at her confusedly. “Are we missing someone on the team? I don’t remember anyone telling me that they were going to drop by—”

“It’s Chef Jaehyun,” Luna bites her lip. She’s biting back a huge smile.

Your eyebrows raise. Confused, you continue to gather yourself. Chef Jaehyun? “S-Sure, you can let him in.”

Luna leaves the kitchen to go fetch Jaehyun and you finish placing all the cartons of milk into the mini fridge. Moments later, you hear footsteps entering the kitchen. You stand back up, bumping your head against the table and groaning in pain. Crouching back down over the floor, you hear footsteps begin to scurry closer to you. 

“Oh! Are you okay, Y/N?” 

Before your hand touches the sensitive area, you already feel a familiar hand gently rubbing it to soothe the pain. You freeze up in your position, gulping nervously. Suddenly, Chef Jaehyun’s face is right in front of yours. He has a look of concern. Looking back at him with slightly widened eyes, your mind is completely wiped out of thoughts. What is this feeling? You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never felt your heart beat so fast. You’ve never frozen up in front of someone. You’ve never lost your train of thought because of someone. 

Seconds later, you clear your throat, pulling yourself away. You’ve finally come back to your senses. “Chef Jaehyun… I had no idea you were planning on dropping by—”

“I wanted to join you in the ribbon ceremony for the grand opening!” He exclaims.

He remembered? He knew it was today? You and Chef Jaehyun have never established some sort of friendship after the competition. You like to think that the both of you have achieved the status of being acquaintances, but definitely not the status of being friends. 

“A-Ah,” you mumble softly. “Thanks, chef. You didn’t need to, I feel like it would be a bother and I’m sure you have other plans too—” 

You’re not sure when things began to change. You’re not sure when the atmosphere began to shift between you and Chef Jaehyun. It’s almost as if you’re seeing a different person. He’s much brighter, nicer, happier. Why is it making your heart swell? What are his intentions?

“I wouldn’t miss the grand opening to Mina’s Place for anything else,” he says softly. “Hey, Y/N?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I got you a present to congratulate you on the grand opening of Mina’s Place.” 

“A present?” You blurt out. “Oh, no, Chef Jaehyun, you didn’t need to—”

“I wanted to.” He cuts you off. “Let’s go?” 

For a brief moment, you see his hand reach out to grab yours but he quickly pulls away upon realization. The two of you are not that close for such skinship. When he realizes it, he looks back up at you with panicked eyes. Was he really going to hold your hand? You clear your throat, tearing your eyes away from his. Instead, you both walk out of the kitchen side by side.

Sitting on one of the light brown hardwood tables is a lavender box wrapped with a thin white ribbon. You glance at Jaehyun as if asking for permission, he gestures to you to go right ahead. Gently untying the ribbon, you take the lid off the box. A small gasp escapes your lips.

Sitting inside the box is an apron, but it’s not your regular apron. The apron looks just like the one in your old family pictures. Yellow with white straps. It’s simple and clean. It’ll show the stains of your hard work. It’ll feel like home. 

But when you pull it out, there’s one little difference to the design. There, embroidered in white on the top left corner, reads the words “Mina’s Place.” It looks just like your mother’s handwriting, the original font of the brand, and it makes your eyes well up with tears. For a brief moment, when you hold up the apron, you could imagine your mother standing right before you with it on. 

“Chef, I—” You’re having trouble forming the right words to say. 

“So she’ll be with you, right above your heart, every step of the way,” Jaehyun pauses for a moment, “Chef.” He gives you a smile so fond, you are again struck with disbelief. 

Hearing the word ‘chef’ come from Chef Jaehyun is something you want to hear over and over again. You want it to play through your head like a broken record. Chef Jaehyun has always been hard on you, but you knew that he was only hard on you because he only wanted the best. Chef Jaehyun is always hard on everyone and you failed to notice that. He truly wants the best for the people he works with and most importantly, the people he teaches. Maturing is realizing that you were ignorant of Chef Jaehyun’s true intentions and immediately thought negatively of him because of your past encounters with him. 

“D-Do you mind saying that again?”

“I’m proud of how far you’ve come, Chef Y/N. This is only the beginning.”

After a long first day of opening, you and your team of chefs and waiters and waitresses see the last customer out. The grand opening has been such a dream to you. There was a long line that wrapped around the block. The diner was packed with many people. The line never truly saw its end until an hour before closing. When the last customer walks out of the diner after complimenting how delicious their food was, you feel your legs give out and you sigh with relief. Slowly getting back up onto your feet, you head to the back kitchen to congratulate your team.

“And we are officially closed until tomorrow morning!” You exclaim. That is, until you spot a celebratory cake sitting right in front of you on the countertop. Your team of chefs and waiters and waitresses have their phones on and recording your surprised face. “Oh you guys, you shouldn’t have!”

“Congratulations on your grand opening, chef!”

Your eyes scan the kitchen. There’s Luna, a good friend of yours from university who worked as a waitress at a hotel restaurant. She quit her job in a heartbeat after you had offered her to work front of house with a better pay. Standing right next to Luna is Minhyuck, who just graduated from culinary arts college and has been wanting to get into the kitchen as soon as possible. You saw your younger self in him, which is why you hired him on your team. Right next to Minhyuck is Yena, a rookie pastry chef that’s planning on entering MasterChef and figured working with a MasterChef champion would help her. Next to Yena are Wheein and Dohyun, who are line chefs and also your co-culinary interns in Florence. Lastly, there’s Mark and Donghyuck, two best friends and college students who were looking to get jobs as waiters.

“You guys are going to make me cry.” You pout your lips.

“To Mina’s Place!” Mark exclaims.

“To Mina’s Place!” Everyone else exclaims.

You smile, leaning in to blow out the candles. Everyone cheers. But slowly, everyone puts down their phones and stops recording video. You look at them confusedly as they begin to flash you encouraging and cheeky smiles and grins. 

“Why are you guys looking at me like that?” You ask.

“Well, would you look at the time, we should get going!” Dohyun looks down at his wristwatch, avoiding your question.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. My mom’s going to kill me!” Wheein is rushing to gather her things.

“Wheein is my carpool driver, so I should get going too.” Yena bites her lip.

One by one, everyone starts to leave the kitchen and the diner. When it’s just you, you slowly turn around to see Chef Jaehyun entering the kitchen. He clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck nervously. You tilt your head in confusion.

“Y-You’re still here, chef?” You question.

He nods his head. “I wanted to drop by and see your last customer out.”

“O-Oh, you didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” He smiles. “I was wondering if you could…”

He falls silent, having trouble finding the right words to come out. You stand there, expectantly, waiting for him to finish. The first thing you notice is how red Chef Jaehyun’s ears are becoming. The second thing you notice is how he can’t seem to look directly into your eyes. The third thing you notice is that… Chef Jaehyun has become shy and nervous around you. Have the tables turned?

“If I could…?”

“If you could teach me how to make the grapefruit and basil pie.” He blurts out and it comes out as a jumble of words. 

You bite back a smile. “Are you going to steal my recipe and start selling grapefruit and basil pie at your restaurant?”

“Of course not,” he panics. “I would never do that.”

“I’m not sure if I could trust you,” you fold your arms, continuing to tease him. “Jaehyun.”

“I won’t,” he says softly, finally finding the courage to look into your eyes. When it sinks in that you called him by his name, his gaze softens. You feel your heart swell. “I promise. That is, if you promise me one thing too.”

“Of course,” you smile. “What is it?”

“You’ll accompany me to Taeyong’s wedding.” 

“I’d love to, in fact, I was invited as well—”

“As my date.” He finishes. You almost choke on your spit. 

Is this really happening? Jaehyun looks incredibly nervous. You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling so wide. You slowly nod your head in response.

“I’d love to, Jaehyun.”

THE ‘REAL’ FIRST TIME.

When Jaehyun’s parents pick him up from elementary school, it’s pouring showers outside. But the only thing that lit up the gloomy streets of Seoul was Mina’s Place, a diner that he and his parents would frequent every Friday to reward their efforts for the past week. Both of Jaehyun’s parents are well-known professors at Yonsei University, specifically in the culinary arts program. Jaehyun’s father was a chef alongside famous chefs like Baek Jongwon and Lee Yeonbok. Jaehyun’s mother was a pastry chef who was known for her win at a famous pastry competition back in her days. 

And Jaehyun… was a mini chef in the making. 

On a gloomy Friday afternoon, Jaehyun and his parents sit in their usual corner of Mina’s Place. A woman seeming to be in her late thirties heads over to their table with a menu. She’s wearing an apron and a chef’s hat. 

“Welcome to Mina’s Place, what can I get you started for today?” The woman asks, pulling out her notepad after gently placing the menus down onto the red table. 

“Hi Mina, we’d love to have the usual!” Jaehyun’s father exclaims. “That grapefruit and basil pie has never left my mind since the last time we were here.” 

“That’s such a relief to hear…” The woman, whom Jaehyun now knows is Mina herself, sighs with relief. She writes it down in the notepad along with his mother’s order. She clicks her pen before stuffing it into the pocket of her yellow apron. “I’ll have your orders ready in a bit. In the meantime, make yourselves at home!”

Jaehyun’s eyes wander around the diner. Although this diner was the place he and his parents would frequent, this diner was extra special for a reason. That reason being that his parents got engaged right in front of the diner while it was owned by different owners. During that time, the diner wasn’t Mina’s Place yet, it was a fast-food restaurant. 

Jaehyun’s attention is disrupted when Mina comes back to their table with their orders. His eyes land on the little girl standing right beside her. She has such large innocent eyes. She looks curiously at him. She seems to be somewhere around his age. She’s sporting a mini apron that looks exactly like Mina’s. 

“And who is this cute little girl?” He hears his mother ask Mina.

Mina places her hand on the little girl’s shoulder, bringing the little girl closer to her. She cuddles against Mina. “This is my daughter. Her name is Y/N.”

“How old is she?” His mother continues to ask questions out of curiosity. 

“She’s ten.” Mina pinches her daughter’s cheek. 

“Oh, she’s two years younger than Jaehyun!” His father joins in the conversation. “They could be friends!”

Jaehyun makes eye contact with the little girl. She looks up at her mother before looking at both of his parents. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she looks back at him and sticks out her tongue. He feels taken aback, eyes slightly widening. 

“I think they would get along quite well!” Mina smiles. “Doesn’t little Jaehyun want to be a chef when he grows up?”

“He does,” his mother nods her head. “Does Y/N want to be a chef as well? Take after you?”

“She sure does! They could even go to culinary school together! Maybe go to a cooking competition or something!”

Friends? Jaehyun scoffs, sending a glare at the little girl. They have an intense staredown. To the adults, it looks like they’re staring at each other because they have crushes on each other. But in reality, Jaehyun’s having a staredown with the little girl because she provoked him. He pokes his tongue at her in return. Her eyes widen as if she did not expect him to put up a mini fight. They could even go to culinary school together? There’s no way that that’ll happen. Cooking competition? Absolutely no way. 

“I think my little daughter here has a crush…”

“Jaehyun, sweetie, isn’t Y/N so pretty? You can’t seem to stop staring at her.”

THE REALIZATION OF (MANY) THINGS.

“That was you?!”

“I can’t believe that was you!”

Sitting by the water fountain, you and Jaehyun talk about your real first encounter with each other when you were kids. From the outside of the reception venue, you can hear the DJ playing a remix of cha cha slide and the guests chanting along. Taeyong’s wedding has been memorable. It was nice to see one of your mentors getting married to the love of his life. Not only that, but you’ve been having a great time with Jaehyun. Since it was getting quite stuffy inside the venue, you and Jaehyun decided to stroll around the garden outside to get some fresh air. 

“You know, sometimes I think that we’ve always had fateful encounters.” Jaehyun begins. He’s aching to hold your hand. But he knows that he wants to take things slow and carefully. He’s so in love with you that he doesn’t want to mess this up. 

“Fateful encounters? What makes you say that?” You ask.

“I came out of a horrible breakup before flying to Florence to run a restaurant with Taeyong. It was such a huge coincidence to have a beautiful woman spill expensive wine all over my shirt.” He chuckles.

You jokingly glare at him. “It was an accident.”

“I know, I know.” He waves it off. “It was an even more big of a coincidence to have the same beautiful woman serve me a dish at the same restaurant.”

“Makes sense.” You nod your head in agreement. “And then we met again at MasterChef but I was a contestant and you were the judge.”

“You know, when I heard that you were withdrawing from the competition, it was like my entire world was crashing down.” He says softly. “It was like I was reminded of all the times I’ve met you and how I couldn’t let you go. I had a feeling that there must’ve been a reason why I met you after getting dumped by my ex-girlfriend.”

“But you showed me that it’s worth working hard and that it’s worth chasing your dreams.” You smile. “I haven’t thank you yet for that but... thank you, Jaehyun. If it weren’t for you, I would probably fly back out to Florence and pick up another job as a waitress.”

“And yet, I would still look for you.” He confesses. “If somehow you stuck with your decision of withdrawing, I would’ve still looked for you, no matter how far the distance.”

“Really?” You whisper.

He smiles. “Yes. I mean, how could I forget the beautiful woman that spilled expensive wine all over my shirt?”

You playfully slap his arm. “You’re really going to tease me for that for the rest of my life, huh?”

“Of course, if only you allow me to be with you for a long time.” He says and it slowly turns into a soft, shy mumble. “Agh, this is so hard!”

You quirk an eyebrow. He’s turning away from you, throwing a cute little fit. “What’s so hard?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something but I keep getting nervous because you look—” He stops himself. “You look so pretty and whenever I look at you, I lose my train of thought and all of the things I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“What is it that you need to tell me?”

“Our fateful encounters.” He begins to tell you, with his back facing you because he’s too nervous to look at you. “After MasterChef, I did everything I could to find you, to see you, to get to know you more. When Doyoung told me that you were going to be working at his restaurant for a while, I kept visiting in hopes to see you but you weren’t there.”

“You did?”

“Yes, which is why I gave you those flowers!” He exclaims. “And then when we were asked to shoot that Valentine’s Day video, I agreed to do it in a heartbeat when I found out that you were going to be joining the project.” 

“Oh...” 

“It used to be so easy to look for you because of all of our fateful encounters. But after MasterChef, it’s become a mission to find you. But now that I’ve finally found you again, I knew that I couldn’t let you go no matter what.” 

“Jaehyun...” You trail off. 

He sucks in a deep breath before slowly turning back around to face you. “Y/N, I hope you know what I’m trying to say, where I’m trying to get at with this... but...”

“But?” You have a feeling you know what he’s going to tell you, but you would rather wait for it to spill past his lips. 

“I’m—” He begins before looking down at your feet. His eyebrows raise in shock and he lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you’re wearing them.”

You almost want to curse at your two feet for ruining the moment. You look down at your heels that you’ve chosen to wear to the wedding. It’s the pair of heels that Alessandro had given to you when you broke your heels after tripping over yourself and spilling wine all over Jaehyun. 

“These heels? Yeah, I was given—”

“You’re wearing the heels that I gave you.” He cuts you off.

“You were the one who gave these?” You whisper.

His eyes meet yours and he chuckles, nodding his head. “Of course. When you got back up after tripping over, I noticed that your heels broke and so I stopped by one of the shops along the strip to get you a new pair. I think I dropped it off with Alessandro because I was running a bit late to—oof!”

“It was you. It’s always been you. This entire time.” You crush him with a hug. He’s caught off guard and sits there in shock for a brief moment before melting into your embrace. 

He slowly pulls away and grabs your hands. “As I was saying...”

“As you were saying...” You continue.

“With all our fateful encounters... with those pair of heels... with all of the times I’ve crossed paths with you, I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way in so long.” He continues. “Y/N, I’m so in love with you. I’m already so nervous telling you this right now, especially while holding your hands. I just wanted you to know that I have feelings for you and you could completely reject me, I understand—”

“I’m in love with you too, Jaehyun.”

“Really?” He whispers, still in shock. “You’re giving me a chance?”

“Only if you give me a chance.” You chuckle.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, Y/N.”

“You don’t know how much I want to make you happy, Jaehyun.”

WELCOME TO THE NEW SEASON OF MASTERCHEF.

“For today’s challenge, we will be recreating Y/N’s most famous dish!”

All of the contestants let out gasps when you step onto the stage to join the three chef judges. The judges for the new season of MasterChef remain the same; Chef Taeyong, Chef Jaehyun, and Chef Doyoung. After having them beg you to guest on the show, you decided to give it a shot.

“For today’s challenge, you will be recreating my famous dish of a deconstructed basil and grapefruit pie.” You smile. “To start this challenge, let us all gather around the front so that you could learn how to master your own deconstructed pie!”

You begin by making your way towards the demo station where you will be showing the contestants how to make your famous pie. Everyone joins in and gathers around you to get a glimpse of how to make your famous pie themselves. Standing on the stage a couple of metres behind you are the three judges, you watch you begin your demo.

Jaehyun folds his arms and lets out a happy sigh. Taeyong glances at him and quirks an eyebrow. “I wonder who that beautiful woman is cooking at the demo table over there.”

Taeyong snorts and rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun, that’s your girlfriend.”

Jaehyun chuckles, nodding his head. “Oh right... she is. That’s my girlfriend—actually, my fiance.”

“Your what? Since when? H-How—” Doyoung and Taeyong share shocked looks while Jaehyun digs into the pockets of his jeans to pull out an engagement ring. Your engagement ring, to be exact.

“Since last night.” He holds up your engagement ring in one hand and shows his engagement ring that he’s wearing on his other. “She doesn’t like cooking with her engagement ring so I’m just holding it for her.”

“Dude...” Taeyong clenches his chest.

Jaehyun snorts. “Dude...”

“Wow, I’m really the only one left that’s single, huh?” Doyoung sighs.

The two chefs comfort him by patting his back.

“She’ll come around soon, Doyoung. You just gotta be patient.”

“You never know, she’ll be a chef too!”

“Chef Jaehyun?” 

The three of them shift their attention back to the contestants. You’re the one calling out to Jaehyun. He quirks an eyebrow. “Yes, Chef Y/N?”

“A couple of the ladies here are wondering if you’re single,” you chuckle. 

Jaehyun shares a knowing look with you. “Well, I hate to disappoint but I just got engaged to the love of my life.”

They let out sad sighs and groans before everyone gets back to learning how to make your famous pie. Taeyong smirks. 

“You’re breaking so many hearts right now, Jaehyun.”

💌 author’s note. she’s FINALLY here 😩 again, i apologize for keeping this off for such a long time. i’ve been super busy with school and just life in general. to everyone who’s been super understanding and patient, thank you so much. from the bottom of my heart, i sincerely thank you for waiting for such a long time. i also wanted to thank @sehunniepotwrites for hearing me voice out my frustrations and all of my excitement throughout writing this fic. nikki truly saw all of the emotions that i’ve experienced and gone through while writing chef!jae. i remember always wanting to write a chef!jae fic and bring chef!jae to life, but there was a lot of pressure and the feeling of doubt.. i felt like i had to do it justice and the fear of not writing it to the best of my ability (esp with me being a perfectionist), it was something that held me back from finishing this fic. but i managed to pull through and i realized that it doesn’t matter, what matters is that i enjoyed writing this fic and if that feeling of enjoyment can be felt through those who read it, that’s more than enough for me. but anyways before this gets longer, thank you so much for reading!

and as always, feedback and comments are always appreciated!

taglist (some of the tags didn’t work so if u didn’t get the notif, i’m sorry!): @anya-writes-stuff​ @swifterauhl​ @tyongblr @alwaysthefirstsight @doyoungsmovingcastle​ @pinkyzae​ @sunshinein17​ @jaehyunnie77​ @dreamycomets​ @seventeeneration​ @srutz​ @coupsiesluv​ @nctdom​ @moonchele​ @freshprunecowboyapricot​ @chimmybaek7​ @forhaever​ @ten10vly​ @fluffyjaes​ @gyujaehyun​ @so-showme-ill-shownu​ @winniet​ @yipyipmorals​ 

[brcnze]

what more could i ask for?

a/n: another from my ao3 that i deleted oops. also sorry it’s christmassy themed and i’m posting this in march?

word count: 5.3k

what more could i ask for?

as the final whistle blew, lucy felt as though she could breathe again. 

these last few months had been tiring, understatement of the year, they’d been exhausting. since the world cup, it had been non stop. she was being pushed so hard emotionally and physically and as she lay back on the grass she couldn’t bring herself to move an inch.

barça were playing at least three games a week, training was as intense as ever and not to mention england had been desperately fighting for their spot at the olympics. for the first time ever lucy was actually somewhat glad they hadn’t qualified. 

she was devastated at the time of course, her last minute goal and two minutes of unimaginable happiness coming crashing down on her had hit her hard. however, upon reflection she realised the time away she’d get over the summer would be good for her. it would be good for her knee that was hanging on by a thread and good for her mind, to finally be able to shut down for more than twenty four hours. 

although the tournament was in the summer and it was only december she had her month off already planned and ready to go. for the first time in her career she felt ready to finally indulge in some much needed rest and relaxation. 

the brunette still enjoyed the sport as much as she always had done, but the demands that playing for the best women’s club in the world and euro winning national team were something she had never experienced before. 

she thrived off of the pressure, but even she was human, not the robot everyone thought she was. she was thirty two and absolutely knackered to put it lightly. 

“come on lucia, up. you are showing your age.” 

lucy knew exactly who it was without even having to open her eyes. the use of her full name gave everything away. 

everyone called her lucy, that’s how she liked it. her close friends called her luce or even bronzey sometimes but she’d never been keen on the people around her calling her lucia, often meeting them with a death glare if they so much as tried it. 

that didn’t stand with ona though. nothing seemed to really, she had a totally different chapter in the lucy bronze rule book. the girl could get away with murder in lucy’s eyes. she liked the way the name sounded coming from ona, the broken english accent and the fact that it was only her who called her it. 

“help me up then.” 

the spaniard reached down and pulled lucy to her feet, smiling up at her in the process. 

ona had moved to barça only a few months ago, but it was like she’d been there forever. the pair had met back at a mutual friends wedding almost a year ago now and had instantly hit it off, the attraction to one another being undeniable. 

“stop eye fucking her.” 

lucy had turned to her side, the smirk of her best friend jordan nobbs being the first thing she saw. 

“she’s hot.” 

“go and talk to her then, what good is sitting here and drooling going to do?” 

she dwelled upon the idea for a minute, questioning whether or not she was ready to open up her heart to someone else yet. as she continued her pondering, ona had met her eyes and as soon as green met brown she was up and on her feet. 

for the first time in her life, lucy had listened to jordan and it was possibly the best thing she had ever done. the conversation between the two defenders had just flowed, both of them giggling as they kept accidentally interrupting one another because they just had so much to say. 

they sat with their thighs pressed together, subconsciously getting closer and closer to one another as the conversation progressed. flirty lucy hadn’t made an appearance in some time, but she was out in full force that night, ona loving every second.

the bride herself, lucy staniforth, had noticed the connection instantly and headed over, giving lucy strict instructions to look after ona once her barça move had been finalised. 

“look after this one? you don’t have to worry about that stani.” 

staniforth looked at ona as a younger sister, and she wanted to be reassured that she would have someone looking out for her and who better than her longest friend. 

“i’ll have the lucy bronze looking after me then, si?” 

ona had asked with a smirk once they were alone again, a smirk that lucy thought was possibly the most attractive thing she’d ever seen. 

“you bet.” 

it was safe to say that lucy had done a brilliant job of looking after her that night and onas contract with united wasn’t even up yet. 

the second she had taken a trip to the toilets and ona had followed her, she had her pinned against the wall with her mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. she wasn’t entirely sure that was exactly what her best friend had meant by ‘looking after her’ but it didn’t stop her from taking her back to her hotel room and having her scream her name for the rest of the night. 

ever since that day she had been addicted to the spaniard. they stayed in contact during onas last few months at manchester united, neither being the type for a one night stand and having too strong of a connection to leave it at that. they met up whenever possible for date nights and randomly showed up at the others games if they could, instantly becoming each other’s favourite person.

the long distance dating was hard, but it was exciting. it would’ve been so much easier for both parties to just date someone who actually lived in the same country as them, but what fun was that when they had found exactly what they wanted in the other? 

the pair took a mini holiday together pre world cup where lucy had asked ona to be her girlfriend over a romantic dinner, and again after the world cup where they had celebrated ona becoming a world champion. lucy knew it was love when she felt genuinely happy and proud of ona, the ability to put her own feelings aside and relish in the pride she felt for her girlfriend. 

it was all just perfect really. thank you staniforth, lucy thought to herself every single day. 

as they walked back towards the changing rooms, down the tunnel and out of sight of fans ona intertwined their hands. they weren’t exactly keeping their relationship a secret, they had both just agreed on private. 

many people had caught onto the fact that they were an item now. whether that be from the pictures of ona comforting lucy at the world cup, the fan picture of them at a restaurant in menorca or the way they interacted with each other on the pitch. 

at the beginning they’d both decided on keeping it a total secret. lucy had already been through a relationship that fans had gotten wind of and this time around she just wanted something she could keep for herself. however, they both underestimated how hard that would be when they were so infatuated with one another. 

lucy couldn’t stop herself. she had to have at least one part of her body touching onas at all times, she couldn’t prevent the heart eyes or the wide smile that was simply reserved for her and came out in full force whenever she was around. she loved her, and quite frankly she didn’t care who knew it. 

“tired?” the spaniard questioned. 

lucy nodded, squeezing her hand as they turned into the changing rooms. she instantly sat herself down and began untying her boots, letting out a grateful sigh as her feet could finally breathe again.

“like you said, im showing my age. im excited to have over a week off that’s for sure.” 

ona narrowed her eyes, mock offence clouded over her features. 

“even though you’re spending half of it away from me?” 

lucy let out a chuckle, grabbing the younger girls hands and pulling her to sit on her lap, so she was straddling her legs. her hands rested on onas waist as ona wrapped her arms around her neck. 

“you can still come with me. i booked two flight tickets for a reason.” 

ona sighed, she so desperately wanted to take lucy up on the offer but it felt massive. her own family weren’t that big on christmas, but it seemed like a huge occasion for lucy’s family and she’d never met them before. in fact, she’d never actually met any of her previous partners families, never getting serious enough for them to even ask. 

her and lucy were serious though. it was different with lucy, she had never felt this way about anyone before. she pictured her whole future with the englishwoman; marriage, kids, the whole ordeal and the thought of messing it all up consumed her. 

she knew she was a nice girl, but that didn’t stop the overbearing thoughts that lucy’s family wouldn’t like her. maybe they would think lucy could do better? maybe they would compare her to keira? the whole thing terrified her. 

“i don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, the decision is yours. if you want to be at home with your own family i totally understand that.” 

lucy had noticed the change in expression in her girlfriends face, running a comforting hand up and down her back. 

ona couldn’t help but smile at the caring nature lucy never failed to show for her. they would be spending the new year together anyway, they planned on taking a trip to andorra together - just the two of them and their dogs but would be meeting in manchester before as lucy staniforth also known as cupid was having a very small get together a few days before new year’s eve and insisted that the couple that she match made were in attendance. 

however, the thought of spending the entirety of christmas with lucy made her heart skip a beat. she wanted so badly to just say yes, she’d have to meet her parents at some point. she was confident her own family wouldn’t mind, they really weren’t all that big on the festivities and were so obsessed with lucy that anything that involved her was given an instant approval. 

“i would love to.” 

the english woman’s head snapped up at that, a wide smile replacing the neutral expression on her face. 

“seriously?” 

“if you and your family will have me.” 

lucy pulled her into a kiss, hand resting on her cheek as she stroked the array of freckles that lay there. the amount of freckles she had seemed to double every time lucy looked at her and she thought it made her even more beautiful. 

“of course. they’ve been so excited to meet you, they barely ask about me anymore. it’s all ona this, ona that.” 

ona let out a soft chuckle, immediately leaning back in to connect their lips. if there was one thing she loved most in the world, it was making lucy happy. 

“not again! ustedes dos son repugnantes!” 

the two girls detached their lips, ona not moving from her position on lucy’s lap and turned to see that the once empty changing room was now filling up with their team mates. 

“like i haven’t caught you and ingrid in more questionable moments than this, maria.” 

lucy and mapi were like sisters at this point. the constant bickering and inappropriate jokes that went back and forth between them never failed to amuse, yet also piss off the rest of the players. the teasing between them had only gotten worse since ona and lucy had made their relationship common knowledge.

“mentirosa! we always keep it very professional.” 

“shall we talk about the time i found you both in the airport bathroom?” 

lucy smirked, relishing on the deep shade of red that had taken over mapis cheeks. she knew she’d got her with that one as the defender soon made her way over to the showers whilst muttering something incoherent in spanish. 

“i don’t know why she still bothers. i always win.” 

ona shook her head, laughing at the never ending competitiveness of her girlfriend.

the pair headed back to lucy’s apartment, saying quick goodbyes and wishing their teammates a happy christmas before packing the rest of their things into a suitcase. 

the nerves ona was feeling were evident on the way to the airport, the lack of singing from the spaniard giving her away instantly. lucy placed a hand on her thigh, stroking up and down. 

“you okay, love?” 

“im just a little nervous i suppose.” 

ona felt it was best to just be honest. she’d been putting off meeting her girlfriends parents far too long now and knew it was obvious she was having feelings about it. throughout their relationship they had always communicated everything, a huge reason as to why it was going so well. 

“im excited to meet your family and im so excited to spend christmas with you. i’m just nervous that they won’t like me, or i’ll say the wrong thing.” 

lucy’s face instantly softened, pulling in to the airport car park and turning her whole body towards ona. she could tell that meeting her family was something that had been playing on her girlfriends mind. lucy had met onas months ago now and was a frequent guest at family dinners, being welcomed and loved by them instantly. 

“i promise you there’s nothing to be nervous about. in all honestly, they’re all a bunch of weirdos and i’m more nervous that you’ll change your mind about us when you see what a weird group of people i grew up with.” 

ona chuckled at that, adoring the way lucy never failed to make her laugh. she took onas hands in her own, giggling a little too. 

“but honestly babe, please don’t stress. we can book a hotel instead if you like? if you don’t want to stay at the house?” 

the spaniard immediately shook her head. 

“no, absolutely not. i’m just a little shy i suppose but i’m sure it won’t take me long to warm up.” 

lucy tilted her head to the side, the most adoring smile resting on her lips. she completely adored the woman in front of her to no end, her affections growing every second.

“god, you’re so cute.”

she tucked a strand of ona’s newly highlighted hair behind her ear. 

“i won’t leave your side though, and just tell me if you need a breather at any point. i was dead nervous to meet your family, so i do know what it’s like.” 

“you were?” 

that information surprised ona. lucy was so good at putting on a confident front that she never would’ve guessed she felt any kind of nerves that day. 

“mhm. didn’t think they’d think i was good enough for you, or that they’d be offended by how shit my spanish is.” 

“you needn’t have worried cariño, they love you more than me and my brother now - especially my dad. they told me instantly that you were good for me, and also that your spanish is shit.” 

lucy scoffed, a look of false hurt clouding her features.

“im definitely getting better!” 

“si tú lo dices.”

ona was right in the sense that it wouldn’t take her long to warm up. 

almost as soon as the pair had arrived at the family home, she had been pulled into the biggest hug by lucy’s mum. the older woman welcoming her warmly as she was desperate to get to know the woman whom her daughter spoke so fondly of. 

“i am here too you know mother.” 

lucy complained as she watched the embrace take place. ona let out a small laugh, appreciating the warm welcome more than anything, putting her instantly at ease. 

once they’d gotten the greetings and ‘nice to meet you’s’ out of the way the family all sat together in the living room, ona being the star of the show. 

“you really are a beautiful girl, darling. i could tell from the pictures luce showed me of you but in person you’re even prettier.” 

ona had blushed at the compliment from diane, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt. 

“oh thank you. and thank you so much for being so welcoming and not minding me being here.” 

“don’t be silly, you’re family.” 

lucy was so glad to see ona smiling. she’d been a little worried when she saw how nervous she was, concerned that her family would maybe be too much for her but she needn’t have one bit. her mum evidently adored her already and as soon as her niece and nephew had come downstairs they instantly took a liking to her too. 

running straight past auntie lucy, they immediately went to interrogate ona. 

“im really starting to get offended now.” 

lucy admitted, watching her niece insisting ona play barbies with her and shaking her head no, when lucy had offered to play instead. her brother was loving it, teasing lucy endlessly that she’d been replaced as the favourite auntie.

they enjoyed a nice dinner together, lucy’s mums cooking going down a treat with ona who had never tried half of the foods on her plate. games were played, the two young children making it their life’s mission to ensure they were on ona’s team everytime.

when the kids were in bed, ona got a real taste of the type of relationship lucy and her brother shared. she knew that they wound each other up to no end, she’d witnessed enough facetime calls between the pair to know that. however, seeing it first hand was amusing to say the least. 

“so ona, out of all the women in the world. why lucy?” 

jorge asked her with a disgusted look on his face, earning himself a pillow chucked straight at his head from the woman in question. 

“don’t be a dick, jorge.” 

ona chuckled at the twos behaviour, not being able to help joining in on rattling him up a little bit. 

“oh i don’t know, many things. she’s funny, kind, always makes me feel loved and safe and i mean look at her. she’s hot as fuck.”

lucy smirked at her at that, whispering something to her that jorge definitely didn’t want to hear. he looked between them in disbelief, shaking his head. 

“sickening. how much are you paying her to say that?” 

“don’t get jealous. just because my girlfriend actually fancies me and your wife thinks you’re a pig now.” 

jorge rolled his eyes, scoffing. 

“well you’re definitely punching, luce.” 

“im well aware of that. most beautiful girl in the whole of woman’s football she is, well and the whole world.” 

another blush made it’s way across ona’s cheeks as she smiled up at lucy bashfully. 

“you are sweet lucia, but that’s not true.” 

“oh it certainly is true sweetheart, we all think you’re gorgeous and lovely just to top it all off.” 

diane chimed in, making her way into the living room carrying even more plates full of food and drawing out another blush from ona. 

going to bed that night in lucy’s childhood bedroom, both women felt content. lucy was so glad that ona was relaxed and happy and ona was so glad that lucy’s family seemed to like her. 

the older woman couldn’t help but look around the small box room that held all of her earliest memories. she remembered lying in the same bed late at night as a youngster, dreaming of the life she was currently living. never would twelve year old lucy bronze have believed you if you told her she’d be laying there right now; winner of multiple awards, one of the most famous names in women’s football, playing for barcelona and having the most perfect girlfriend by her side.

“i have had such a wonderful day today.” 

ona whispered into lucy’s neck, pulling her from her thoughts as the defender tightened her arms around her waist and placed a kiss on the top of her head. 

“me too, i’m so glad you’re here.” 

“i’m so glad i came.”

“they think you’re amazing, if you couldn’t already tell.” 

ona let out a little giggle, thinking back to the amount of compliments she had received throughout the day. she looked up at lucy, taking her head out of her neck and pouting her lips, tapping them expectantly. 

lucy happily obliged, meeting her in the middle for a soft kiss. 

the kiss quickly turned heated, neither woman being able to do anything by halves. lucy’s hand made it’s way up the back of onas shirt, well technically her shirt that ona had stolen, and began tracing patterns pulling her in impossibly closer. 

upon hearing someone get out of bed to go to the bathroom, ona pulled away but only far enough so that she could still smile into lucy’s lips. 

“i love you.” 

“te amo mas bonita.” 

the next few days were spent lazing around and going for light walks with the bronze family. both women were soaking up the rare time off and had even brought siestas all the way back to england, much to the amusement of jorge. christmas day had been nothing short of incredible too. ona didn’t think she could love lucy anymore than she already did, but now having such a special bond with her family too her heart was left feeling like it was going to constantly burst. 

when the time came to leave and head down to manchester before the new year, ona felt emotional to be saying goodbye to everyone. she had had the most amazing time and felt as though she had created a special bond with everyone individually after the five days spent together. 

the spaniard had to really fight to hold the tears in when it came to saying goodbye to lucy’s niece and nephew. the two little ones had created a card for them, hand drawn by them both. there was two stick figures holding hands, one representing lucy and the other ona. a bright yellow sun took residence in the corner, and a football was placed in the air. 

when lucy opened the card, gushing at the incredible drawing, she smiled to herself widely and turned it around so that ona could read their articulately thought words. 

to auntie lucy and auntie oni 

we will miss you soooo much. we loved playing football and princessess together. we love you xxxx

seeing the two young children refer to her as their auntie after only being in their lives a few days made ona feel like she could physically melt. she knew how much the young children meant to lucy and leaving with the feeling that they liked her was all she could have asked for. 

lucy clearly felt the same happiness as as soon as they go into the car she turned beside her, grinning like the cheshire cat. 

“did you have a good time, auntie oni?” 

the drive to manchester was spent sharing more family stories that ona hadn’t yet heard - the spaniard enjoying them even more now she could actually picture the scenarios, and singing along to their favourite songs, much a contrast to the drive to the airport a few days ago. lucy was just happy that ona was happy, taking her eyes off the road a few too many times just to watch her. 

when they arrived at their hotel, ona had barely opened the door before lucy had her pressed up against it. 

“i’ve missed you.” 

“you’ve been with me every day.” 

ona wrapped her arms around lucy’s neck, a deep sigh escaping her lips as the older woman started kissing down her neck. 

“mhm, but not like this.” 

she continued pressing kisses, ona throwing her head back as she found her sweet spot. 

“just wanted you all to myself.” 

ona tangled her fingers in lucy’s hair, pulling her head up from its position in her neck and smashing their lips together. both women were needy, tongues slipping into one another’s mouths and lucy sliding her strong thigh inbetween onas legs, drawing out a shaky whine from her. 

“fuck me, right now.” 

“don’t have to ask me twice, princesa.” 

with that, lucy picked her up, onas legs wrapping around her waist instantly and carried her to the king size bed. the two women found themselves lost in each other for the entire night, making good use of the fact they no longer had lucy’s parents and brother on either side of the wall. 

they woke up the next morning, appreciating the bigger bed the hotel had provided in comparison to lucy’s childhood single bed, yet still practically on top of one another.

mornings with ona were lucy’s favourite time of day, their legs tangled together, arms wrapped around one another and getting to watch the sleepy smile that never left her face. she was truly ethereal, and every time the sun rose she would count her lucky stars that she got to call this girl her’s. 

“you are creepy, watching me like that.” 

lucy smirked, the croaky morning voice of the spaniard giving her familiar butterflies. 

“stop looking so beautiful all the time then.” 

ona smiled, reaching up to play with the baby hairs that had escaped lucy’s night time bun before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. the footballers then got themselves ready, sharing lazy kisses as they showered and went about their usual morning routine. 

they were meeting staniforth, jordan, demi and their partners at lucy’s house which wasn’t far from the hotel they were staying at. the afternoon was going to be a nice chill vibe, lucy positive the only reason they had been invited was so stani could gloat about being the reason they got together. 

“you know she’s going to be so annoying, right?” 

lucy warned ona in the taxi when they were on their way. the spaniard responded with a fond laugh, crazily excited to see their mutual friend. 

“oh, i know. the whole time we were at united together she teased me about having a crush on you.” 

“i like that you always fancied me.” 

ona rolled her eyes at the smirk that had plastered its way across her girlfriends face. 

“of course you do, it feeds your already huge ego.” 

the two arrived at the house they were both so familiar with, getting pulled into big hugs from everyone the second they arrived. neither woman was kidding when they said staniforth would be annoying, it only taking two glasses of wine until she began gushing about the couple. 

“i just can’t believe that you both are actually together.” 

lucy and ona looked at one another, smiling their signature loved up smile which caused the others in the room to let out a series of ‘aww’s.’ 

“appreciate the love and that but you lot don’t have to coo at us like we’re kids.” 

“but ona had the hots for you for so long im just so happy.” 

“stani!” 

the spaniard nudged her former team mate, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. it was very obvious from the day they met that ona had always been infatuated with lucy and lucy was well aware of that too, ona having admitted it to her after a few too many wines on one of their first dates. however, that didn’t mean she wanted it broadcasted to other people.

“lucy was the same. caught her practically drooling in her glass of champagne at the wedding.” 

apparently it was jordan’s turn to pipe up now, not allowing lucy off the hook that easily. 

“alright we get it, we were both obsessed with each other and it’s all down to you all for getting us together. thank you so much.” 

the sarcasm was dripping off of lucy’s tongue, causing the room to erupt in laughter. she secretly loved it though, loved the fact that her closest friends were so happy for her and that they loved her girlfriend almost as much as she did. when the footballers were all occupied with another conversation, opting to tease jordan now about her lack of love life lucy turned to ona. 

“even more obsessed with you now though.” 

ona smirked at the hushed tone, laying her head on the older woman’s shoulder as they joined in with the grilling of jordan. 

they spent the entirety of the evening laughing non stop. the group of friends drank wine, ate take out and played games, lucy coming out as the winner every time of course. 

“do you ever get bored of winning everything?” 

demi was sat with her arms crossed, shaking her head at lucy’s third victory in uno. 

“nope.” 

“you’re ridiculous, it’s trophy after trophy with you.” 

the group of footballers let out fond laughs at the englishwoman’s constant need to win. it was a part of their friend that they weren’t sure they’d ever fully understand, but a slice of what made her so special. 

the day had been perfect. lucy and ona’s cheeks actually hurt from where they’d been smiling so damn much over the past few days. they were packing up their hotel room, checking and double checking that they had all of their luggage before their flight back to barcelona to pick up the dogs later that night. 

lucy was sat on the edge of the bed, contently watching as ona scooped her hair up into her signature bun.

she couldn’t help but think back to what demi had said earlier about her need to win. she loved winning, that was undeniable but as she observed the girl five feet infront of her and thought back to the past few days they had shared she couldn’t help but think she’d won everything there was to win. 

“i love you so much.” 

the defender made her way over, wrapping her arms around ona’s waist from behind and resting her chin on her shoulder. 

“i love you too amor, but where did that come from?” 

lucy shrugged, turning the girl around in her arms and placing her hands on her waist. ona’s arms automatically coming to drape around her neck. 

“just been thinking about how good this weeks been so far, and how good everything’s been since i met you.” 

“i can’t believe how soft you’ve turned lucia.” 

ona smirked up at her lover. one of her favourite things was seeing how much her girlfriend adored her, she got to see a side to lucy that no one else did and it never failed to make her heart beat that little bit faster. 

“im serious though. i was just thinking about what demi said, about how much i love winning.”

ona nodded, encouraging her to keep going. 

“but i feel like if i’ve won you what more could i ask for? no trophy could ever give me the same feeling that you do.” 

the younger woman’s face softened instantly. some people in lucy’s life had criticised her for always focusing on winning, wishing she’d slow down and appreciate what she had rather than always looking to the next thing. ona had never seen it as a bad trait though, she found the constant motivation inspiring and just another part of lucy to love. 

ona rested her hand on lucy’s cheek, her thumb stroking across the sharp bone structure of the older woman. they both leaned in at the same time, their lips pressing together for a soft kiss, neither woman being able to stop smiling. 

“well maybe the world cup.” 

lucy mumbled into onas lips, the spaniard letting out a huff of a laugh and leaving a gentle smack on her shoulder. 

“way to ruin the moment.”

[sebsallowapologist]

The Older Sallow

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC 

Rated: 18+

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of death/murder, at first this was going to be a fun little Sebastian jealousy fit but then it got angsty, oops,

Sebastian’s older brother comes back to reconnect with his brother after the death of their Uncle Solomon. Sebastian tries to make peace but it seems his brother can’t help but flirt with his girlfriend.

(Older Sallow brother inspired by this from @deathlysallows​ - the whole post is seriously amazing.)

When Sebastian was young he used to worship the ground his brother walked on. Six years older than him and Anne, Henry was everything Sebastian wanted to be, until their parents died. 

Before they passed Sebastian had worshipped the ground Henry walked on. He was cool, knew how to talk to girls, and was one hell of a quidditch player. But after the Professors died, and the kids were moved into Solomon’s home in Feldcroft Henry become more distant. Never coming home from school for the holidays. Spending summer breaks working with friends - always an excuse to not come home. Henry dropped out of school his sixth year, and after that wouldn't even respond to Sebastian or Anne’s owls. Suddenly Sebastian was invisible. He felt like he’d lost his parents and his brother in one swoop.

He was 10 when Sebastian stopped hearing from his brother, until one morning at his sixth year, a letter was dropped off next to his plate one autumn morning.   

The name above the return address in the upper left corner made him freeze. 

H. Sallow.

“Right Sebastian?” His girlfriend asks. “Sebastian?”

“I’m sorry darling, what was that?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the cream envelope in his hands. “I said it’s quite cold today - are you alright?” 

“Yeah uh- I just remembered that I left my charms book in my room. I’ll meet you there, yeah?” He says, hopping up from his seat and giving her a quick peck. 

Ominis furrows his eyebrows. “Sebastian?” 

“I’ll see you there!” Sebastian reiterates, waving behind him as he walks out of the great hall. 

He makes it down the hallway and ducks behind a statue, ripping the letter open now that he has a semblance of privacy. 

Baz-

I’m going to be in Hogsmeade next week, I have to visit for work and I thought we should get together. Catch up as brothers and all. I’ll be staying at the Hog’s Head Inn. 

Let’s meet on Friday for a drink. Anne tells me you have quite the pretty girlfriend, she’s of course welcome as well. 

-H 

Anne? Henry had been in contact with Anne? 

Sebastian stuffs his note in the inside pocket of his robe and turns, making his way to class before his head starts to spin. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Later that night Sebastian and MC are relaxing in the Slytherin Common room, MC resting most of her body on Sebastian’s as she reads from her novel, and he thumbs through his ancient runes notes. 

“My brother send me a letter.” He brings up quietly, breaking the peaceful silence. MC’s head shoots up to look at her boyfriend, locking eyes with the brunet. “Brother? You have a brother?”

“I do. Henry, he’s six older than me.” 

“How do I not know you have a brother?” 

Sebastian shrugs, trying to wave off the history he has with his older sibling. He never liked talking about his brother, keeping his mind from wandering on where he was, or if he was alright. Ominis was the only one he’s ever really spoken to about Henry. He rarely even brought up the subject with Anne.

“He moved out a while ago, we’ve grown apart.” He says casually. “But he’s uh- spoken to Anne and I want to see if, maybe, he says something that could help us be... normal again.”

“That’s great, Seb.” She smiles, patting him on the chest. “It’ll be nice to talk to family.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, not really believing the chat will be all that nice. “Would you come with me? It’s at Hog’s Head on Friday.”

MC grabs his hand and squeezes, “I’d love to go with you.” 

Sebastian squeezes her hand back, kissing her knuckles before he returns to his notes. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

On Friday MC follows her boyfriend into the run down pub in the Hog’s Head Inn, scanning the room for whoever could be Sebastian’s mystery brother. She spent the last week trying to wrap her head around the fact that he boyfriend had a while sibling she didn’t know about. She knew how much Sebastian missed his sister, maybe reconnecting with an estranged brother could help heal that hole in his heart a bit. 

MC was thrown. The man in front of her looked just like Sebastian, but he was just.. older. More mature, he was just Sebastian but... filled out. Well cared for stubble graced the man’s chin, making him look just the right amount of rugged. Familiar warm brown eyes met hers and a smile made the freckles on his cheeks dance. He was dressed well, keeping up with the most up to date fashion trends, wearing nothing that would be sold in Hogsmeade. 

“Sebastian!” The man says standing up from his seat at a table next to the big window. Sebastian drop’s MC’s hand to hug his brother, clapping his hand on the man’s back. 

It’s like all the nerves had melted off of Sebastian as they hugged, like the time wore on both of them. 

They pull apart and his brother turns his eyes on MC. “Merlin, Anne was right she really is a beauty.” MC blushes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Anne’s very sweet.” 

“Henry. Henry Sallow.” the man says, pulling MC into a hug. “Oh!” She says, surprised at the contact with the borderline stranger. He’s practically holding her up in his arms, her toes were the only part of her touching the ground anymore. 

She chokes out her name as an introduction and Sebastian puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder, signaling him it was time to let go. He lets MC down, but his hand lingers on her lower back. Despite the warm greeting, Sebastian has the urge to cut his brother’s hand off at the wrist. 

“Sit! Sit! I have some fire whiskeys coming for us.” Henry says, sitting back down in his chair. He turns his attention toward MC, angling his body to face her. “So tell me about yourself, you’re a Slytherin?” 

“Uhm.” MC says, she wasn’t expecting to be the one in the line of questioning. Looking at Sebastian she tries to catch his eyes, but he’s looking off at the wall, studying a picture like it’s his favorite book. An intensity in his eyes she’d never quite seen before.

“Yes, I’m a Slytherin. It’s how I met Sebastian. It’s so nice you reached out so you two can connect.” She smiles, trying to kick the conversation onto the reason they’re all here. Sebastian looks back at his brother, waiting for him to say something. 

“I was a Gryffindor back in the day. I was actually quite shocked when Anne and Sebastian were both Slytherin. They must take after our parents more that I.” 

“Ah. Okay.” MC says, sitting back in her chair. Okay, Handsome? Yes. Smart? Maybe not. She feel’s Sebastian’s leg bouncing under the table and she puts a hand on his knee. 

The contact snaps Sebastian out of whatever disassociation he was swimming in and he locks eyes with his brother. “Why are you here, Henry?” 

“I told you, I’m here for work.” 

“No. Why are you here as in why are you here, inviting me for a drink like we haven’t seen each other in six years!” 

“A man can’t want to catch up with his only brother? You’ve grown!” 

“Be serious, Henry. You don’t disappear for six years and then talk to me like nothing’s happened.” Any good feelings had ended at that hug. 

Henry’s face fell, no longer trying to be charming about any of this. He leans his forearms on the table. “Anne told me what happened last spring, what happened to Solomon.” 

Sebastian jumped back in his seat like Henry had slapped him. 

“No. No.” Henry says, putting his hand on Sebastian’s forearm. “I just- Anne found me looking for family. She’s alright? I have her staying with me in London.”

“London?” MC can practically see Sebastian’s wheels start turning on how he’s going to get to London to see his sister. 

“I think you did the right thing.” Henry tells him, and Sebastian stills. He pulls his arm away from Henry’s embrace. 

“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asks and MC coughs, catching the waitress come around with the fire whiskey. “Sh!” She says and the boys stop, sitting up straight in their seats. 

As soon as the drinks are down the two of them take the small glass in their hand and knock back the drink, putting the glasses back down on the table at the same time. Merlin, as tense as this all was it was like seeing the same man six years apart. 

“Anne is upset now, but she’ll get over it. You know how dramatic she always was.” Henry says, shaking his head with a smile on his face like he was recalling a lifetimes worth of memories with Anne. 

“How are you so unserious about this?” MC whispers, sitting back in her chair and taking her fire whiskey in one go as well. 

Henry opens his mouth but Sebastian’s cutting him off. “Are you bloody kidding me? I did- what I did was horrible. I have nightmares about it, I feel- so much guilt and it’s nothing to you?” 

“I’m just not surprised. You know how Solomon was.” Henry says defensively. 

“And don’t tell me Anne is being dramatic, she has every right to hate me.” Sebastian’s hands were shaking. “You show up here, after not talking to me for ages, flirt with my girlfriend, and then tell me the thing thats been keeping me up at night isn’t a big deal?” 

“Sebastian.” 

“Go fuck yourself.” Sebastian spits, standing up at the table and turning on his heel, grabbing MC’s hand in the process. 

“I’m your brother!” Henry shouts. 

“I don’t have a brother.” Sebastian answers, his voice unwavering. 

His holds onto her hand tightly, walking them quickly out of the Inn and to the nearest Floo Flame, taking them both to the room of requirement in silence. 

Once they’re there MC just stares at her boyfriend. She doesn’t know what to say, she can’t even tell how he’s feeling, he’s looking behind her, his hands in fists at his side. “Sometimes.” MC mutters. “It just helps me to scream-” 

She can’t even finish her sentence before Sebastian is letting out an earth shattering scream. She clamps her hands over her ears and waits for him to be done before wrapping her arms around his middle. 

“I’m sorry your brother is a prick.” She mumbles into his sweater. 

“Me too.” He sighs, resting his cheek on the top of her head. They’re quite for a few moments. “Did I see you looking all Doe eyed at him?” 

MC blushes. “No.” 

“Liar.” he mumbles. 

“Well, I just thought that maybe you could grow one of those little beards?” She mumbles and Sebastian chuckles.

“Even if he’s handsome he’s a right git.” She tells him, and gets on her tip toes to give him a kiss.