#I do not mind A N Y T H I N G as LONG as it is (other) clown compliant!!!

[clownsuu]

Question... Robbie.... In the mob au? 👀

Get girlie popped KDHDHDH

At first I really wanted to make him like- completely unnoticeable and nobody fuggin remembers him despite being a member JDHDHFHHF- but I wanted to make him interact with Dr.Stone so instead he’s a member thats just rarely seen anymore (Wally totally didn’t get rid of him cause he kept being fuggin annoyin)

kinda all brawls no brains like sally- used to chaotically collect debts peeps have with the ol mob (still does but significantly less since now he’s a fetcher for Dr Stone for more harder to get goods the mob needs. The mob technically can go without the help of Dr.Stone, however he is a middle man that knows just about everything needed for successful heists/deals with his knowledge and name alone)

also? This dude doesn’t know what a bed is he sleeps on just about anything (can sleep like a baby face first in a trash can)

[sunkisskim]

https://x.com/sjydaiiy/status/1813577236567769118?s=46

KAY AJABSJSNSNSBWISSHSB

um.... what happened to hi? hello? how are you? 😃😃

IS HE INSANE??????? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. LIKE SIR, I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST SOLIDER I WILL FOLD AND QUICK AS FUCK AT THAT. 😃😃

AHH-HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THE MAN YOU ARE SIM JAEYUN....

[pastelaspirations]

I. AM. SCREAMING.

MIRAGE. YOU CAN'T KEEP FREAKING DOING THIS TO ME.

I am but a mere mortal. My heart can only take so much before absolutely crushing under the suffocating weight of such love and affection-

I AM CRYING AND I AM SHAKING YOU. H O W. HOW CAN YA BE THE FASTEST ARTIST IN THE WILD WEST. IT'S BEEN LIKE. 3 DAYS.

Okay, fine, 3 days since like... the latest chapter. But it's been like... months since chapter 35- W a i t. Oh god, was chapter 35 last year?? I don't even remember, and I don't want to remember-

Aside from the mental anguish I am experiencing over how long these chapters took to upload, I AM ALSO SUFFERING BECAUSE. LIKE. L O O K.

I am crying, shaking you, even if it is more that I am face down in a puddle of my own tears, weakly grasping at your knees. H o w. How can one be so immaculate at traditional art. It's been a hot minute since I've tried traditional art, BUT I KNOW. TRADITIONAL ART GOT NO BACK BUTTON-

It look just like how I imagined. The caveee, maaaan. The rain as it's pouring outside. INK IN ERROR'S COAT, MAN. AND FREAKING LITTLE DAISY, CURLED UP LIKE A CUTIE PIE. AND BROOMIE, EVEN BROOMIE UP IN HERE.

AND YA EVEN GOT ERROR'S SCARS ON HIS ARMS, I CAN S E E 'EM-

I'm not okay. I'm not okay. Fine, I am okay, but actually not. My mind is gone. Evaporated into atoms. It'll be back, eventually, don't worry. BUT MY HEART CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH-

G o d, okay, just. Know that I freaking love this masterpiece with all my freaking heart and I'm absolutely losing my mind as this cursed reblog shows. I will hold close to my heart for all time, I love it so incredibly much-

Fanart to the fanfiction "Perseverance" (chapters 35-37)

by @pastelaspirations

[lxnarphase]

want me to give you another one? ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

☾₊‧⁺...ft : gojo satoru + geto suguru + fushiguro toji + ryomen sukuna

☾₊‧⁺...cw : breeding kink, praise kink, spit kink, reader gets called 'mommy', dirty talk, teasing, overstimulation, satoru goes insane from pussy, suguru wants a girl this time, toji being in love with his wife, sukuna doesn't like when people insult his soon-to-be-wife, sukuna is dating single mom!reader

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : i really wanted to do the 'our baby is so cute, i want another one' 'yeah? you want me to give you another baby?' trope so here we are ❤︎ i couldn't think if i wanted to do others but if you'd like more please let me know ! ❤︎ also, the toji one ? is actually a sneak peek of a longer fic i'm working on ehehe

✧ g. satoru : it starts off with you nuzzling in satoru's arms as he watches tv. satoru notices that you began to get clingier after you put your baby girl to bed. every night, you would press against him as if you wanted to merge with him and he couldn't help but tease you about it. so when he feels you nipping his neck and your hand running under his shirt? when he hears you oh-so sweetly whisper, "don't you want to give me another baby, satoru?" into his ear? he's eagerly nodding, ready to do whatever the mother of his first baby wants. but instead of letting him on top...you climb over him and that look in your eye tells him everything he needs to know : he's fucked.

"baby, baby, baby, please," satoru whines, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. he feels like he has no control of his hips, he's so sensitive, but he can't stop fucking up into you. not when you're like this, practically buzzing with need and crazed energy. "c'mon, s'toruuuu," you purr, hands splayed out on his chest. "cum f' me again? please, honey, you only came once, 's not enough." the room is hot, both of you covered in a sheen of sweat. how long have you both been going? he didn't remember, he lost count of how many times his hips desperately pressed up, shooting his hot load into your wet, needy pussy. but you just wouldn't stop. not that he minded, but fuck, you were making him so brainless. he can feel his thick cum gushing out of you each time you lift your hips, dripping down his cock and balls, onto the mattress. "h-hah, it's so fucking messy," he groans, unable to stop himself from cumming again. "f-fuck me, baby, t-there's so much cum, y'r pussy is so fuckin' sloppy." you just won't stop milking him, your soft and wet walls massaging him as you moan just from the feeling of being filled up again. god, you were making him insane, what got into you— his eyes snapped up to you when he felt the wet drop of one of your tears on his chest. those pretty lashes of yours were getting wet with tears as he felt your thighs starting to shake, a weak moan leaving you. "c-can't," comes a pathetic sob, your hips desperately grinding down on his cock, moaning when you feel it throb. "c-can't stop, 'toru, 's not enough, i need it, n-need it so bad!" when you finally look at him and make eye contact, he feels like he's been shocked because you look a mess... "give me another baby, 'toru, i want another one, gimme another one, please—!" with no hesitation, his feet are planted into the mattress and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he pounds into your dripping cunt, feeling himself cum just from the wail you let out into his ear. but he doesn't stop, he can't stop, not when his wife, his honey, his baby needs him to knock her up again so badly. "'m gonna give you whatever you want," he pants, his skin feeling like he was touching a live wire. "give it t'you 'til 'm empty, baby, gonna fuck you good, make sure it sticks, just like you, f-fuck, like y'want, yeah?" he feels you nod frantically against him, unable to speak from the way his cock drilled up into your pussy, tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. "y-yeah, you want that, you fuckin' want that, s-s'just take it, baby, let me give you another fuckin' baby."

✧ g. suguru : your son had just turned one so you and suguru let his nieces, nanako and mimiko, come over to have a little celebration. seeing the way you cared for the twins and your baby boy the entire day made him think. his son was still a baby and had a lot of growing, but he knew the kid would look just like him with a few of your features. he's always wanted a girl, and helping his sister take care of the twins as they grew up only made the desire stronger. the two of you mentioned having another baby at some point, but the rest of the week, all he could think about was trying to get you pregnant again, maybe give you a girl this time...who knows, maybe he could fuck you so good you'd have twins.

"aww...i know, i know," suguru coos, his hand pressing into your tummy. that condescending smile on his face just makes you melt under him. he's slow and methodical with how he fucks you, like he wants you to remember every vein of his cock, how it curves up just perfectly that it nudges that spot where his hand is pressing down and makes you keen. his smile morphs into a knowing smirk, his free hand rubbing your thigh. "you're such a pretty mommy, princess. do you know that?" suguru's so sweet, he's so soft, he's treating you like your the most fragile thing on the planet. he sooo slowly grinds himself into you, his hand giving another little push down on your tummy. he's so sweet to you, such a loving husband... but you know. you can see it in his eyes, the hunger and deviance swirling around in those purple irises. he's getting you soft and pliant, melting into the bed as he praises you where he knows your weak. "taking such good care of my baby, aren't you? ," he praises. his hand is so warm as he starts to rub up and down your stomach. "such a shame the geto genes are so strong in the men. however." your breath hitches when he pulls all the way out before shoving his cock all the way in down to the base. you can't help the soft moan of his name, watching him lean down closer so that he's right over you. "the girls in my family always look like their mommy. what do you think, pretty girl? d'you wanna try? want to see if i can give you a girl?" as soon as you nod, suguru fully leans over you, using his arms to hold himself over you and he really starts to fuck you. he's merciless, managing to keep that stupid fucking smile on his face as his balls slap against your ass. "she'll be so pretty, just like her mommy, so so so fucking pretty," he coos as if he isn't making tears drip down your face. he loves seeing his baby like this, so sweet and pretty for him. "okay, angel. 'm gonna give you another one, gonna flood this cunt alllll dayyy longgg."

✧ f. toji : toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you. yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things. but god, did he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid he gave you. so when megumi tells you both what he wants for his birthday...“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly. “but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.” little brat. toji doesn't hesitate to let megumi have a sleepover with yuuji the next day, dragging you into the bedroom as soon as he gets back home.

“you want to give the kid a sibling, hm," he hums against your mouth, teeth tugging on your lower lip. you feel how hot the tip of his cock is as he rubs circles into your clit with it, smearing his precum all over you. "wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?"  you just hummed, a little breathless. your hand came up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. “mm, honey, you've gotta stop asking questions you know the answer to,” you cooed, guiding him down closer so you could press a kiss against the scar on his lip. “don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.” after those words left your pretty little mouth, toji let out a laugh of disbelief, his mind instantly realizing that you, being a little minx, were 100% going to give him the worst breeding kink ever. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum, and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick.  toji easily flips you over onto all fours and lines himself up with your slit. when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet. god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it messed with his head. you were almost too good to be true. each thrust he gave had you seeing stars, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you. it was almost too much, but you didn’t want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth. “shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ. c'mon, throw that ass back on me, mama, thaaaat’s it, good girl.” the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushed him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full. he coos when he sees you beginning to jolt up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. that's he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes. "tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

✧ r. sukuna : it honestly is his fault this happened, he's being snappy with one of the parents at the birthday party of your son's friend. sukuna knew better, he should've just ignored the bitch, but the comments she's making gets under his skin. "she hasn't given you kids of your own yet? that's too bad, i would've let you do that as soon as you proposed," she tries to flirt, batting her lashes at him. it just makes him sick. did this fucker not see the way sukuna looks at you? "oh, you probably don't know if she's the one you want to mother your kids, right," the woman next to him says, putting her fucking hand on his arm and he shoots her the meanest glare. "not everyone is mother material, but i-" "hey, we're leaving," he interrupts when you walk up to him, slapping the woman's hand off him as he gently wraps his arm around your waist. "i texted yuuji, that's why he's watching our kid for the rest of the day. c'mon."

sukuna is devouring you, his mouth unforgiving as he runs his tongue up and down your pussy. he's pissed, the way his tongue laps angrily at your folds as if your pussy is the reason he's upset. "fuckin' bitch," he snarls, spitting onto your clit before sucking on it. "thinks she can talk to my wife like that." you shakily gasp when he finally, finally looks at you, the sharp anger in his eyes making you shiver. you can tell he's not upset at you, but seeing him so riled up and knowing that he's using you to get it out of his system does something to you. "you know your mine right? that you're stuck with me 'til the day we die," he asks you, his thumb replacing his mouth as he rubs firm circles into your clit. "i'm your husband. you're my wife. you are fucking mine." he's about to say something else, but he stops, letting out a heavy sigh, subtly shaking his head. you catch it though, you always do. "suku, what's wrong," you shakily ask. "y-you can...can tell me, baby, what's wrong? did something ha-" "let me get you pregnant," he says, his voice low but desperate. he's moved from between your legs to over you, and you can see he's so hard, the tip of his cock an angry reddish-purple. "don't you want to give our son a sibling?" your eyes widen, not expecting him to ask that. having a kid with him...honestly didn't sound that bad. and the way he called your son 'our'...it makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but give him a sweet smile and nod. "okay, 'kuna, we can start trying if you are sure. i'm still on birth control, but—sukunaaa!" he doesn't give it another thought, sliding all the way into you until his hips are flush against yours. he feels the way your arms wrap around him and scratch at his back, and as good as it feels, sukuna needs you to give him complete control. pulling your arms off him, he laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the mattress before rutting into you, the slap of hips against yours almost angry. "don' care about the birth control," you hear him growl, his eyes burning into yours. "'m gonna fuck you so fuckin' full of my cum that it bypasses it. it's got no fuckin' chance with how many times i'm gonna breed this cunt." the way he's talking to you, it makes your head spin and you know he feels how you clench down on him with the way he groans. "gonna fuckin' show everyone how good of a mom you are, gonna get you all swollen 'n' round with my kids," sukuna groans, feeling his tip kiss your cervix with each snap of his hips. you can't help but look at him with those big eyes, disbelief and infatuation swirling in them. he likes this look on you, you just look so fucking in love with him, and it's all for him, just for him, no one else, just fucking him. "yeah? y'like that? that i'm gonna have a lil' family with my wife? give you as many kids as you want, 'n' all y'gotta do is take my fat cock as i breed you 'til it takes."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[amourcheol]

agrodolce

❝Because you cannot create perfection without a little tension.❞

rivals to lovers! au | fluff | 27.5k words

s u m m a r y : one would expect being a dessert chef to be a life filled with sugary goodness, but nothing is sweet when working alongside boo seungkwan. when the two of you are forced to create a special dessert for the winter menu together, you think the restaurant will burn down. late night planning, shopping mall snooping, and a simple dessert might just save you from your expectations.

c o n t e n t : dessert chef! mc, dessert chef! seungkwan, rivals to lovers! au but i kept it tame so i didn't lose my mind, head chef! jeonghan who terrorises his employees, seungkwan is leading the sassy man apocolypse, flatmate! julie from kiss of life who wants to be santa, lots of mentions of italian desserts, lots of geographical London referencess, lots of bickering, little bits of tension, making out but no smut because im fearing god again, fluff obviously and overall just very winter-esque!!

p l a y l i s t : candy by seventeen || chocolate by seventeen || daawat-e-ishq by sajid-wajid || strawberry sunday by dojaejung

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @ourkivee @syluslittlecrows @ye0ppl @markhyuckbest @uhdrienne

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : this is not edited properly and for that i am sorry...so tired i fear but she is FINALLY done!! thank you @camandemstudios for inviting me to participate in this collab, i've enjoyed every moment of yapping and fighting over pixel cats <33 to alice and addy for listening to me complaing about this fic but seungkwan deserves sm love so i had to do my bit !! i hope you all enjoy and happy new year !! <3

back to masterlist

BEING BERATED BY A SUPERIOR WILL ALWAYS BE A HUMBLING EXPERIENCE.

Whether that be in school, when you are scolded for forgetting your homework, or gaining detention for arguing with your teacher. In the working world, it could be insufficient effort in a team project, perhaps your boss simply being a prick and wanting to make your life difficult. 

Never did you think you would be sitting in front of your Head Chef, remnants of food stuck in your hair and clothing, a sheepish look plastered upon your face as you faced his imminent wrath.

You knew it was over for you—the man at the head of the office sat, sleeveless arms crossed, eyebrows knitted in rage at your dishevelled appearance, his feet tapping viciously under the desk. You never really considered your superior to be a particularly scary figure of power, but, in this light, if he made any sudden moves, there was a slim possibility you would scream.

You wondered whether begging for forgiveness was still on the table.

“Remind me, _____,” he finally said, sighing the words out, “How old are you?” 

A part of you wished to remind him that he was not legally allowed to ask you that. You did not even know why he was asking such a question. Head Chef Yoon Jeonghan had known you for a long time now. He realised it too, but for another reason entirely. “No, scratch that. You’re an age where your brain has developed fully, right? I’m not wrong in assuming that you’re capable of knowing what’s right and what’s wrong?”

“Of course, Chef,” you answered, trying to find some self-assuredness in your voice. Difficult, in all honesty, when you were covered with salted butter and vanilla extract. 

That seemed to be the wrong answer. “Then tell me why, _____,” he asked, agitation rising, “I caught you with your hands full of whipped cream, throwing it at a fellow chef.”

You attempted an explanation. “In my defence, Chef, you weren’t meant to see that.”

Jeonghan was not amused. “I’m surprised the entire restaurant didn’t catch your antics. If this incident happened during open hours I shudder to think what our customers would think.”

Reining in a sigh, you did not respond this time, positive that another dry quip from you would have your unemployment confirmed. 

It was a little unfair, though. You were not the only one who was caught. 

A drawl resounded from beside you. “I won’t be surprised if half our customers don’t already know what _____’s like.”

This particular chirp had your self-wallowing bubbling to a rage. 

No, you were not the sole culprit, because as you whipped your head to the man who decided to voice his opinion at the wrong time, you caught the shit-eating glint in his eyes and nearly screamed the office down.

You could not stop yourself from crowing out, “Let’s not forget your 2018 meltdown over multiple tiramisu failures, Seungkwan.”

That had him scoffing harshly. “Always digging up incidents from years ago because you have nothing else to bring up.” His eyes hiked up and down your ruined uniform. “I can name your screw-ups starting today.”

“Oh, so I was just pissing about with all this food by myself then,” you snapped, gesturing towards his own mess. His hazel locks had the remnants of whipped cream too, matting his hair, whilst different coloured stains adorned his professional uniform, much similar to yours. However, you noticed he was much dirtier in appearance, which made your lips quirk upward in satisfaction.

He caught on instantly, to your distaste. “You were the one who couldn’t argue properly with me,” he accused. “No wonder you had to resort to childish gimmicks to get back at me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” A turn of your nose. “You look horrendous.” 

“You’re no sight for sore eyes either.” He reached for the thick strands of his hair, matted together with whipped cream. “Do you even know how hard it is to wash off mascarpone?”

“I wouldn’t, actually, because you missed, remember?”

“Oh, you—” 

“Enough!” Jeonghan declared, interrupting you two before any escalations occurred. “Not only were these gimmicks childish and immature, but also a huge waste on our ingredients. Mingyu’s estimated our stock for this week was cut down by 17%.” 

Your surprise was exposed through the twist of your mouth. “That’s right.” Jeonghan sighed once again, many in his arsenal. “Both of your temper tantrums have cost the restaurant financially. Aside from the fact that I will be talking to my therapist about this incident.” 

“Of course _____ wouldn’t care about the restaurant finances,” Seungkwan jeered, dusting off flakes of self-raising flour from his lap. “Nor your mental health.”

“I do care about your mental health, Chef,” you rebuked your colleague’s claim. “If I didn’t, then the stock would have plummeted another 25% at least. That’s why I didn’t touch the vintage dessert wines.” 

“You do seem to have some sense then,” Jeonghan griped, no humour in his smile, “Because if you ruined the wines on Seungkwan I would have fired you instantly.”

Not a warning—a promise. Another one of his infamous sighs exhaled from his coral lips, which he brushed with his wandering fingers in thought. “You both…you both need to stop this. I mean it.” 

“I will stop when she stops,” the man beside you asserted, glaring at you. 

You matched his venom. “I will stop when he stops.” 

“No, you both will stop, because I have had enough.” He locked his hands together, losing all amusement—as if there was any present in the first place. “Christmas period is approaching, and that means changing up the menu for the new quarter. These next couple of months will be incredibly busy, especially given the tourist season and school holidays in central.” 

Glancing at the stack of papers on his desk, he set aside a few files, sliding out a particular piece and studying the details. “As you know, the main menu has been under alteration, but the dessert menu is still the same as the summer. I have already selected the majority of the confectionery, but there is still one more dessert I wish to add to the seasonal collection.” 

He then set his sights on the two of you. “I need you to make this dessert. Hand me the plans for its creation, flavour variety, as well as its marketability in the restaurant.” 

That had you sitting up in your seat. A creation of a dessert—it was something you had concocted in larger groups, back when you were a mere apprentice under Jeonghan’s wing at Camden Market. You had done seasonal dessert preparations for the spring and summer menus, but the winter menu selection was the most prestigious amongst the luxury restaurants within your borough. With locals flocking to central London, tourists from all corners of the world flying across oceans to stay in this beloved city, they wanted nothing more than seasonal excellence. 

An exquisite dessert meant maintaining that expectation of perfection. A dessert was enjoyed at the end of the main meal, and—in your eyes—cemented the opinion of a customer on whether they would return to the establishment, or forget it ever existed. The treats you made left impressions on thousands, impressions you savoured everyday at work, and outside. 

This may just be all your hard work paying off. Finally.

Before Jeonghan could continue, you nodded, all confidence. “I will be happy to accept this task, Chef.”

A snort sounded next to you, and your smugness faltered, replaced with irritation. “You have something to say?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said, folding his leg over the other, “I was wondering why you were piping up when Chef was asking me.” 

This time, you were the one that laughed. “Your arrogance makes you look like a dumbass many times, Seungkwan. This is one of those times.” 

He leaned in a little, nodding condescendingly along to your taunts. “Oh do I? I guess it’ll be your turn to look stupid today.” 

“Both of you are looking stupid in front of me,” the boss interjected once more. “Because I wasn’t asking a specific individual.” 

He raised his hands to the two of you. “I’m asking you both to work on this dessert inclusion. Together.” 

You halted. Stilled in the stark, yellow lights of the grand office, evidence of Jeonghan’s success. Success which you have yet to taste on your own.

Success which, unfortunately, might have died with the words that left your superior’s mouth.

For the first time in a while, there was complete silence in the office.

Even Jeonghan found the notion hard to believe. “My God,” he uttered, twisting the corners of his mouth downwards, stunned. “Maybe I should have dropped this news before the food fight.”

You could only stare at the man in pure horror. “I would rather snap raw spaghetti and serve it to you before doing such a thing!”

Seungkwan let out a groan. “Here come the dramatics,” he muttered, but you heard it clear enough. “Anything to make a fuss and delay the business.”

Jeonghan perked up. “Oh, so you wouldn’t be opposed to it?”

A smile. “I’d kill myself before working with _____.”

Your huff of laughter had the boy scowling. “And he called me dramatic.”

“Enough!” was the final outcry from your boss, who seemed ready to overthrow the desk in pure frustration. “You two…” he shook his head, raking his slender hands through his long, black hair. “I don’t care.”

The younger attempted to fight his case to the end. “But Chef, this will be a disaster—”

You chimed in for the sake of interrupting, “This will cause the downfall of your restaurant—”

“I don’t care how you two feel,” his interruption was final, his head shaking still. “I don’t give a fuck, to be honest.”

Seungkwan’s mouth parted, but then heard the fuck, and decided against saying a word. You should have followed suit, but it was against your very principle to follow his example. “Chef, please,” you tried, almost pleading to be heard out. “Seungkwan and I have completely different palettes too. It’s not even about personal differences.”

“Again, that is a setback I don’t care about.” He stood up from his seat, and almost on instinct the two of you shot up from your chairs, remnants of cooked fettuccine falling from your dampened uniform pockets. The Head Chef took note of this detail. “This…this petty rivalry between the two of you is affecting the people around you now. Both of you are so talented, yet I have seen caffeine-crazed kids behave better than you during rush hours.” 

He rested his hands on the table, his hard gaze razor-sharp. “You both have about eight weeks to hand me the final dessert plan on my table. If I receive two individual plans, or no plan at all, then I will fire you both.”

That was enough for balls to drop. You were fortunate to have none, so only assumed Seungkwan was the victim in this situation.

“Y-you can’t do that!” he exclaimed, and for the first time, you had to agree with him. A horrifying prospect. “We’re halfway through September now!”

“So?”

“You need me on desserts, Chef!” you declared, taking a more outraged stance on his statement. “What the hell will you do when there’s no one to make your amarettis?”

The man was still, face impassive. “I don’t care if you both are my best chefs. There are many big-eyed, desperate Masterchef rejects who will cut off their legs to be trained within this position.”

Whatever snide remark that almost escaped your mouth lodged itself in your throat. You wanted to feel special—like there was a place reserved only for you at the restaurant. 

Now, because of one person, that position is threatened.

“This isn’t fair, Jeonghan,” you mumbled. 

There was a pause. Then, “Don’t make me agree with _____.”

“Shut up.”

The boss took a turn from his desk, walking towards the door. “As I said,” he began, holding onto the handle, “You have eight weeks.” 

He took one last glance at the two of you, a judgement akin to the one the scriptures warned about. “Don’t fuck this up.” 

With that, he left his office with a final thud! of the door. 

And as the weight of the decision finally settled on your shoulders, its pressure making them sag, you looked to the man whose employment rested in your hands—whose hands your employment rested on too. 

The two of you scowled at the exact same moment.

If anyone was going to get fired, it would not be you.

THE RUSH HOUR OF THE UNDERGROUND TUBE SOURED YOUR ALREADY UNPLEASANT CONDITION.

The Northern line from Camden experienced a few closures, so that resulted in delays, consequently filling the already dingy underground area into a complete sardine-like squeeze. It was horrendous enough the place was like a cesspit of heat and sweat amongst all these commuters, but knowing you were going to be late was enough to worsen your mood. 

You would have complained to your flatmate, but there was no service underneath—the entire commute resulted in staring down the people who held a seat in the jam-packed tube, when you were slotted against the sliding doors of the train. Holding onto the railings for dear life, you could only hope that your colleague had experienced an inconvenience as severe as you had (perhaps tripping over his dirty laundry—maybe even a car crash on the ring road? He could take his pick). 

Once the tube finally reached Leicester Square, you could not struggle out of the train fast enough, tapping out your card and flying up the stairs in two-three steps. The Piazza of Covent Garden was not far away, but London was a city that never rested, and so the people were everywhere. Thankfully, you had mastered the art of moving out of the crowds with precision, so you arrived at your destination, only about five minutes late. 

The columns of Covent Garden’s grand building welcomed your vision. There, nestled to the side with luxury outdoor seating splayed onto the cobblestone, was the Vita di Diamante—Jeonghan’s product of blood, sweat and tears for the world to admire. The Georgian-style front was painted an emerald green, white borders of the doors and windows making the restaurant glow in the soft winter sun. Customers were already queuing, even though doors were not to open for the next two hours. You could not help a small smile forming, chest swelling with pride. 

Avoiding the front entrance, you hurried around to the side doors, this particular entrance already open thanks to Prep Cook Kim Mingyu, who offered a sheepish smile at your appearance. 

“Oh no,” you said in greeting, quickly stepping past him as he closed the door. “What’s that look for?” 

He chuckled, tightening his apron’s bow at the back. “Seungkwan’s been waiting at your station for thirty minutes.”

A curse escaped you, furthering his amusement. “How mad is he?”

“He shouted at me for the lack of ricotta in the pantry.” 

You scrunched your brows in shame, widening your lips in a line. “That’s on me. I threw it at him the other day.”

Although he shook his head, he said, “Tell me it hit his face, at least.”

“Right on target.”

Hearing his laughter behind you, you dashed to the cloakroom, quickly changing into your uniform. Tossing your bag in the small lockers, you exited, finding yourself in the familiar surroundings of the dessert station. 

From the last time you had been in this side of the kitchens, the place had been the victim of your vicious food fight with Seungkwan—stained with sauces, powdered with flour, and littered with different nuts and sprinkles from the pantry. Now, the floors and tables were spotless, all evidence of your petty rage disappeared into your memories. 

Unfortunately, the cleaners could not make the sole reason for your anger disappear. He stood, back hunched to you, like a nasty stain upon your domain, refusing to be wiped away. You could not help your glower towards his figure, a small hope that you would develop lasers for eyes and smite him off the station.

“What’re you glaring at me for? You’re the one who’s late.” 

Jerking your head back at his voice, you twisted your lips downwards, walking towards him. “You don’t know that,” you challenged, sneaking a look at what he focused on—a notebook, with scribbles written in black ink. 

“I do, because you’re glaring at me as we speak.” He glanced up at you. “See?” 

It was a little pitiful now, trying to school your face into neutrality. “Whatever,” you muttered, taking out your own notepad, setting it on the steel tops. “And for the late thing, rush hour spares no one.”

“Yet the entire staff managed to come early,” he said, a certain, condescending ease in his tone which made your glower darken. “We’re lucky that Jeonghan’s helping us with desserts in the next coming weeks, or we would have been screwed.” 

“Jeonghan’s coming?” you asked, genuinely surprised. You were aware that he was trialling a few dessert apprentices to deal with the restaurant’s rush period, butyou did not expect the big boss to turn up at the stations.

“He wants us to focus on ‘team collaboration’,” he iterated, exaggerating the latter words in air quotes, “As well as ‘building our professional relationship’.” 

“Jesus,” you could only say, dreading the near future for what it held for the two of you. Jeonghan was either the dumbest person to grace this restaurant, or enjoyed messing with his employees for work-place entertainment. 

A glimpse of the clock. “We’re due for starting up in a couple of hours, so we better start thinking up ideas now.” You looked down at the pages of your notebook, a few ideas already jotted down that needed further exploration. “Since we’re only doing one dessert, this shouldn’t take us more than a week to decide.”

Seungkwan’s mouth twisted in a sneer. “Yeah, if you’re just handing a scoop of gelato to them.”

That particular comment had you craning your head back. “You have to be braindead to take two months to come up with one item.”

“You must be putting anything in your customer’s plates then,” was his sour response, “To need only a week to create a luxury food.”

A sharp sigh escaped you. “What grand plans do you have for the public then?”

Picking up his notebook, he brushed a finger past the page. “Right…so we already have the standard tiramisu and gelato variations. We should definitely incorporate a sugary pastry since we’ve been lacking in the previous quarter.” 

“Pastry,” you mumbled. He was talking pure, unadulterated shit. Chocolate bignè was the permanent item on the summer menu—little, indulgent profiteroles that melt into the taster’s mouth. Apart from that, the generic selection of cannolis and bomobolini doughnuts were already sold at the till within the cafe section outside, so another addition of the pastry was not needed.

Perhaps your thoughts projected upon your face, because the boy was incredulous. “And what’s so wrong about pastries?”

“It’s been done too many times.” You showed him the previous menu, which he had before him. “We should do something different.” 

“And what would that ‘different’ be?”

You scoured your page, latching onto the words of strong flavours. “Stray from the sweets this time. I’ve been wanting to experiment with a few flavours, and I think that bitter amarettis will be big this winter.”

Mentioning the Italian macarons did not bode well. “Bitter amarettis? Are you insane?”

Instantly you crowed, “The Sarano branch is actually very popular ‘cause they’re smaller and easier to eat after a meal. We can flavour them with coffee or almonds.”

“No.”

The sudden dismissal was enough for you to argue your case. “It’s better than a goddamn doughnut!”

“Fine.” He clutched his notebook tighter. “Let’s drop the pastry. How about a pannacotta?”

Pannacotta—sweet cream dessert thickened and moulded with gelatin. Not your first choice, but its greatest advantage was its range of flavours that it accommodated.

You decided to try your luck once more. “We can do something with that.” You chewed the inside of your cheek, thinking of any flavours that were not simply sugar sprinkled on cream. “I’ve experimented with bay leaves before. We can add one or two to add a lime-like essence.”

The man scrunched his nose at the notion. “My God. Were you thrown against the wall as a child?”

That morbid image had you scoffing. “I had an amazing childhood, thank you. Why are you so against it already?”

“Pannacotta is a sweet dessert, _____. I’m not adding fucking leaves on a delicacy.”

“Adding herbs on certain confectionery is actually a luxury trait. You learn this in culinary school.”

Once again, the idea was immediately cut for another. “We should add cinnamon to it.” He pointed towards his notebook. “A nod towards the coming Christmas.” 

“Cinnamon?” you parrotted. “A sweet flavouring on an already sweetened cream? Do you want to rot our customers’ teeth?

“Oh, what do you suggest then?” He let out a harsh scoff. “Coffee for the millionth time?”

“Well, actually—” you were about to make an incredible point, but your partner began to groan, cutting you off. “Hey, coffee is versatile, and you know it!”

Seungkwan looked to the side, as if there was an invisible camera he could make a face to. “Here comes the anti-sweet agenda.”

Your sharp exhale was loud enough to gain his unpleasant attention. “If you had your way, all our customers would have type 2 diabetes!”

“Well sorry that I don’t want my customers as bitter as you are!” he exclaimed. “It’s beyond me how you became a dessert chef!” 

“It’s called having range, dumbass!” you shouted right back, unwilling to relent. “My skills go beyond just dumping a load of sugar and calling it a dessert!”

He slapped his notebook on the desk, leaning in. “I said to have cinnamon because it’s bloody Christmas. My bad if you like to Grinch it up every year.”

“You want to show Christmas through cinnamon, huh?” You huffed a laugh in his face. “Wow, Seungkwan, how original! I might as well put a fucking christmas hat on top of our tiramisu. Fuck it, let’s start singing a Christmas carol while we serve it since you want to be on theme so much!”

Seungkwan’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want fucking leaves in a dessert.”

You matched his anger. “Well, I don’t want you in this process, but we can’t always have what we want.” 

A tilt of his head, the locks framing his forehead sliding along. “I'm not dying to work with you either, dearest.”

Dearest. That pissed you off even further. “Then find a way to deal with it,” you seethed. 

“I could say the same thing to you.”

You pursed your lips, at a loss for words. The man stared into the rising rage of your gaze, his own agitation reflected clearly. He was watching you intently, words dying on his lips, only inhaling and exhaling sharply. Had he been a few inches closer, his huffed anger would have fanned your face, truly taste how he felt about this entire situation.

But that was the last thing you wanted, and so you could only match his displeasure. 

“I’m not losing my job because of you,” you warned.

His eyes darted all over your face before he deigned to reply to you. “And you think I want to be fired?”

The quirk of your mouth upwards had his nostrils flaring. “If you act like an asshole, Seungkwan, that’s exactly what you deserve.”

“Why do you get to be the judge of that?” he scoffed out.

“I won’t. Jeonghan will see through you soon enough.”

Oh, he was seething underneath that mask of irritation. If you had been any weaker, you would have crumbled under such a withering look. He did not have much to say anymore, thinking that knifing you with his glare would be enough to win this argument. Because he had you as an opponent, it was no easy feat—the two of you said nothing again, staring and staring with mouths parted, almost waiting for an insult to rise from their throats and strike any second. 

Something might have struck—would have occurred under the flickering lights of the dessert station. Perhaps Seungkwan would have said something to make you succumb to your aggravation. Maybe you would have finally killed him. 

��Already at each other’s throats?”

You and Seungkwan whirled your heads to the voice.

There stood Jeonghan, tapping his foot against the floor, arms crossed as he observed you two. “Standing this close, well…either you’re about to claw each other’s faces off or make out.”

The latter option had you and Seungkwan breaking out of your rageful bubble, repelling from each other like magnets of the same sides. The boy exhaled sharply through his nose, while you swiped up your notes, not even sparing your Head Chef with a glare. “You’re horrid.”

Seungkwan snorted. “I think I’d rather get punched.”

You directed that sour look back at the man who deserved it more. “You’ll have it coming if you keep at it.”

“If you both have wasted enough time fighting,” Jeonghan interjected, always the mediator, “Then let’s get on with it. I wanna hear your initial plans.”

“_____ will summarise,” The younger replied, before you could even begin. “I have to go in a minute.”

You made a face. “Where’re you running off to?”

He returned it. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have to pick up my niece and nephew from school. They have a half-day today.”

You could have rolled your eyes at him. “Is this allowed, Chef?” you demanded. “Something as important as the Christmas menu is being discussed, and he’s doing school duty.”

But Jeonghan overlooked your valid concerns, countering, “It’s all good, _____. Seungkwan asked for the half-day a week earlier.”

The said-man handed his notes to the superior. He could not help remarking, “Perhaps if you had bothered to be on time, then we could have fought out another dessert.”

As he exited, bidding his adieus to him, you reined in the temptation to stick his middle finger out. After all, it would have only landed behind his back—the bastard deserved to see it. 

Your boss clicked his tongue at you as he walked over to where you stood. “Good to see you didn’t flip him off in front of me. At least you’re thirty percent professional.”

“Why did you give him the half-day?” This time, you could not restrain the eye-roll. “Sometimes I think he’s making those kids up.”

“_____!” He scolded, bringing Seungkwan’s notepad back on the surface. “I’ve met his niece and nephew, they’re very much real.”

“Or you could be in on the bit,” you jeered, leaning against the countertop. “Trying to piss me off on purpose.”

“Your self-importance astounds me. Not everyone is thinking about you.” A knowing look. “Even the man you happen to hate so much.”

“Well I hope he keeps my name out of his mouth. And his mind, for that matter,” you added for good measure, observing the very door the man departed from. 

Jeonghan followed your line of sight. “You seem to have a hard time keeping his name out of your mouth though.”

Your accused mouth tightened at its allegations. “Are you on my side or his?”

He raised his hands in surrender, a grin breaking free from his lips. “Don’t drag me into your petty rivalry.” Pointing towards your notes, he then changed the subject. “Now, tell me about your rough plans.”

You obliged your boss, running down your initial prospects. He seemed satisfied enough, informing you that he will ask Seungkwan as well, and reminded you to prepare for the early customers.

As you prepared yourself for the open doors, prepping your ingredients alongside the Prep Cook, your thoughts wandered to the man who escaped this menial work, and then the eventual rush.

You and Seungkwan would not be able to create this dessert. Meeting in the middle would be impossible with someone as stubborn as him. Of course you wished to be successful, because that meant Jeonghan would not throw you out into the cobblestones of Covent Garden. You wanted this to go well. 

A sharp breath exhaled from you. You could only hope that Seungkwan hoped the same, or else you would both are completely, utterly, inescapably fucked. 

“HO HO HO!” 

A sigh involuntarily escaped you. “One more ‘ho ho ho’ and I’m shooting myself in the head.”

“Hey!” The slender girl exclaimed, fixing her Santa hat upon her straight hair. “You know I need to perfect it for today.”

You looked beyond her figure to the shop, lit up with seasonal outfits on display. “You’re gonna get the role anyway, Julie, because no one else will be auditioning.”

The girl tried to push you in punishment, you narrowly dodging her dainty hand. “Go back to slaving away at Jeonghan’s restaurant.”

A mocked gasp left you. “Are you telling me to get back in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, so step on it!”

“I’m supporting you, though!” You reasoned. “There is no one in London who can pull off Santa Claus better than you.”

“And what about the world?”

You mocked a shrug. “There’s too many old white men to compete for that title, I fear.”

“See?” She clicked her tongue. “A real friend would lie to me and say I’m the best.”

Shaking your head at her antics, you could not help smiling at her. Julie Han was a fiery girl you had befriended in school, bonding over your terrible teachers in one after-school detention. Your paths had never strayed, establishing each other as flatmates when the two of you decided to pursue careers in the big city. Where you pursued luxury food, she sought after theatre and cameras, deciding to be an actress when she landed herself the role of ‘Juliet’ in Romeo and Juliet in primary school, and considered it destiny (she, however, did not have chemistry with her Romeo, because he kissed her like a ‘fish’. In her words, men who cannot kiss should not be romancing other actresses).

“I don’t get the Santa Claus obsession, though,” you wondered out loud. “There are other ways to help kids out.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas!” She waved her arms to the air, gesturing at the winter-themed fairy lights on the mall ceilings, twinkling with every ray of light that caught them. “It’s also adorable when the kids ask you for presents.”

“I think it’ll be cuter with a female Claus, too,” you pointed out. “I wouldn’t put my kid on any old man’s lap.”

“Exactly!” There was a moment of brief pause before Julie relented. “Also, the mall employees get a 50 percent discount on retail.”

“I knew your ass wasn’t feeling the Christmas charity spirit.”

The girl chuckled, looping her arm around yours. “Thank you for coming with me. It means a lot.”

“Of course!” You returned her grin with a mischievous smile. “I wasn’t gonna miss you screaming ‘Ho Ho Ho’ at every kid in M&S.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but could not contain her laughter. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to work today?”

That made your cheerful expression falter a little. “I was, but Seungkwan took the full day off today, so Jeonghan used it as an excuse to trial out the apprentices.” 

“You know, I still need to meet this guy,” she said, glancing at the street food booths in the middle of the halls. “He’s the only man I know who genuinely makes you go batshit.”

“Don’t get me started again.” You rolled your eyes. “You know, he took his day off for his niece and nephew again. I’m telling you, he’s making these fucking kids up.”

Julie’s face twisted into concern. “Making up fake kids for a holiday is a little far-fetched, _____.”

“Keep giving people the benefit of the doubt, then,” you crowed at her, “I'm just gonna pretend you're method acting for Santa."

But she was persistent, asking, “When will you let me spread the Christmas charity to your nemesis?” 

“Never, if I can help it.” You twisted your mouth. “I’m saving you the headache.”

“Why the headache?” Julie then gasped. “Is he ugly?”

You scoffed, looking ahead to respond when you stopped dead in your tracks.

Your friend, arm locked with yours, lurched backwards, whirling her head to you. Catching your expression had her demanding, “What the hell?”

But you were not listening to her, because your eyes landed on the very man you were bad-mouthing mere seconds ago. It was insanity how you recognised him, when his face was half-hidden from his signature oversized scarf—the three-metres of red fabric which always irritated you for some irrational reason (possibly because you were always cold, and the stupid, awful scarf always seemed so warm). His black trench-coat covered his slender figure, his hair ruffled, the after-effects of a beanie situated upon them.

Those details were still not important—completely useless when the most prominent addition was a woman beside him, laughing at his quip.

Shit. You did not waste any time.

“_____?” your friend called out, only to be met with your sudden turn on your heel, as, with her ungracious yelp, you hauled her inside the nearest shop, nearly crashing into the mannequins. “Jeez, if you wanted to go inside Zara so badly, then you should have just said!” 

As you hid behind the retail giant’s new winter collection, you observed, a little further away, the two people strolling without a care in the world. You noticed how the man was carrying all the shopping—stores from high-street to designer, which had your eyebrow raising—whilst the woman was pointing towards different stores, perhaps scour all of Westfield if she could help it. 

A frown marred your lips. 

Seungkwan said he was assisting his child-aged niece and nephew—you did not remember said-niece and nephew being one adult woman. 

“He’s on a fucking date,” you seethed.

Julie, now hiding beside you, tried to find whoever it was that you were glaring at. “Who’s on a date?”

“Seungkwan!” you exclaimed, pointing at him through the mannequin’s arm. “The prick with the red scarf.” But he and his company had walked past Zara, nearly leaving your field of vision. “Wait, we gotta move.” 

The poor girl, who was once again hauled up, and now being led out of the store, tugged at your arm. “What are we doing?” she asked. “Why are you still talking about him?”

“Because he’s there!” You jerked your head towards him and his lady-friend. “Look!”

A sharp breath drew from your friend. “Oh my God! Speak of the dessert devil, huh?”

“Exactly! So we’re following him.”

That had Julie stopping the chase, thus stopping you. “Why the hell are we doing that?”

“To catch him out on his terrible excuse!” you explained, tutting at your friend’s inability to understand the drastic nature of this situation. “I need to see the look on his face when I catch him making the rounds on H&M’s winter collection.”

For some unimaginable reason, the girl did not seem so enthusiastic. “My interview’s in thirty minutes, _____.”

You scrambled for any lame excuse. “This will distract you from your interview nerves!” 

“I haven’t gotten any interview nerves.”

“Well, you should because your voice cannot go ‘Santa Claus’ deep.”

Julie nudged you with her interlocked arm, shaking her head. “Now I’m scared, so fuck you.”

“You're very welcome.” You ticked your head towards your target. “Let’s go.”

As you two began your possibly illegal, certainly socially unacceptable activity, a certain rush thrummed within your veins, as if you had taken something for the exhilaration. Seeing your colleague declare one thing to you, yet do something entirely different—and then to witness it with your own eyes—felt like a scene out of a ridiculous rom-com. He was taking this girl everywhere, offering his opinions on certain collections on display in whatever shop they passed, loud enough for you to hear. Of course, it was expected from someone as opinionated as him—you were not surprised in the slightest. 

“All the time in the world for his kids, huh?” you muttered, sporting a grin which would have had criminals running for the hills.

Even Julie was spooked. “You really are rooting for his downfall, huh?” 

“You have no idea.”

The two people you tailed went inside the White Tiger, and it was at this point as, when you made to enter the strange shop, you were stopped by your friend. “I’m gonna leave you here.” 

“What?” You tugged on her arm. “You still have fifteen minutes.”

She sighed. “If I tank in my audition, just know I’m going to your restaurant and telling this Seungkwan that you had a wet dream about him.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s diabolical.” 

Her growing smirk had you widening your eyes. “I’ll do you an even better one. If you don’t let me leave I’m calling Seungkwan here and telling him we were stalking him.”

That had your blood running cold. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“You don’t think so?” She turned her face forwards, shit-eating expression furthering. 

She then parted her mouth, making your heart stop. 

“Seungkwan!” 

“What the—” You instantly grabbed her arm, aiming to cover her mouth when she waved off your hands, her grin chilling you to your bones. “Oh my fucking God—!”

“Hey, Seungkwan!” Julie shouted once more, louder this time. You knifed her with a vicious glare, but then she waved her hand, and you whirled your head to where she greeted.

Your face contorted in pure horror as you watched Seungkwan look over his shoulder, slowly turning himself. 

What you did next was completely out of your control. 

It was your legs that suddenly held the reins, dashing into the shop beside your friend, hiding behind the racks of clothing. Your heart beat as if you had run an Olympic sprint, pounding in your ears, and your mouth repeatedly cursed the girl who had instigated all this, praying she embarrassed herself in her audition—perhaps screaming Whore, whore, whore! instead of the classic jingle. You did not think of the logistics, too enraged and embarrassed to think up a solution.

Despite the chaos of customers shopping, the swishing of clothing amongst the racks, and the robotic beeping of cash registers, you peeked through the burgundy cardigans you hid behind, catching the very man you wished to avoid walking up to your friend. 

His voice could be heard from your makeshift sanctuary, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, did you call for me?”

Julie kept glancing at the shop you hid in. She tried her hardest to restrain her smile as she said, “I did, actually! This is so weird, but my name’s Julie. _____’s friend.”

You could not mistake it—the realisation striking in his eyes, as they widened, ever so slightly. His mouth parted, then the corners of his lips curled upwards, and suddenly you could have been made of dread and anguish and every fearful emotion a person was capable of feeling. 

Seungkwan was going to eat you alive. 

“_____?” He repeated, and the amusement that dripped off your name had you wishing all men perished. “Oh, it’s always a pleasure to see a friend of _____’s.”

He raised his hand out, and Julie reciprocated, shaking it thoroughly. “I wouldn’t have expected an answer like that from you, actually.”

“Is that so?” the man quirked his mouth in a side-smile, all mischief and whimsical. “Maybe I’m fixing my manners for a pretty girl, then.”

“Oh!” she brought a hand to her chest, her smiling losing all mischief, turning more genuine. “She didn’t tell me you were such a charmer.”

You had to bring a hand to your mouth, aghast. The bitch is being fooled! “I’m not surprised by that in the slightest.” He let out an uneasy chuckle. “I hope you don’t believe the impression she’s made of me.”

“I’ll try not to be swayed,” she promised, sneaking another glance at your hiding place. Although she had not caught your eye, you glared at her for being so obvious. “Though I will admit, I haven’t heard great things.” 

“I’d be shocked if I heard anything positive,” he remarked. “_____, she…” He tugged his lip between his teeth. “I won’t say it cause she’s your friend but…”

“Yeah, nothing too crazy, please,” she warned, “Because then I’d have to tell her, she’d go all ballistic on you, and then she’d complain to me. I can’t deal with this soap opera.” 

“Soap opera?” he said, scoffing. “God, I can’t even complain, it’s EastEnders everyday in that damned kitchen.”

Julie laughed. “Now I know my friend loves a bit of drama, but surely she’s not the one in the wrong every time?” 

But Seungkwan tilted his head, squinting his eyes as if considering a completely different opinion. “And yet she’s the one throwing food in my face.” 

That had your friend glancing at you through the shop window, a second-long judgement. You glared at her to turn away, she obliging with a shake of her head. “Well…I suppose I can’t defend her against that.” 

His winning smile irked you to the bone. “Exactly.” 

You knew from Julie’s sheepish scratch of her neck that there was no convincing him, and had unintentionally proved his point. A soft groan escaped you, about to hold your head in your hands. Must bully her about this later.

The need to torture her for the rest of her miserable, Santa-adoring life worsened when he looked beyond her frame, a questioning twist of his mouth forming. “Am I crazy, or was _____ here with you?”

The girl’s helpless, a million-emotions-a-second expression once again exposed the guilt Seungkwan waited patiently for, and latched onto. “Huh. So I’m not crazy.” 

“She just left,” Julie explained, looking down at her boots. “She had the whole dessert thing to think up, prepare for…you know, the reason you guys are yelling at each other.”  

“Such dedication to her work!” he praised, but even she could recognise the patronising tone, directed at you from afar. If he had caught onto the fact that you were hiding from him, you might as well throw yourself off the highest floor in this mall. 

The condescension had the girl ticking her head. “She is, though. Why else would she be fighting for her preferences?” 

Seungkwan stared at your friend, sliding his hands in his pockets. “I guess you’re right,” he relented, which had you frowning behind the clothing. Given up so easily? 

You could not ponder over it further, because the man looked over his shoulder, no doubt realising he had left his mysterious companion behind. “You must excuse me, Julie,” he said, “But it was really good to meet you, truly.” 

He held his hand out, which, surprised, your friend shook, lightening up. “You too, Seungkwan.”

As he let go, turning on his heel, you just managed to catch the smirk on his face, hidden from Julie. “You tell your friend I said I missed her here.”

And off he went, catching her off-guard, and kickstarting your irritation as he strolled back to his date. 

Once you were sure he was out of your distance, you stood, avoiding the flurry of winter clothing, keeping your head down in slight shame at knowing quite a few shoppers had seen you hiding out behind the railings. Another unprecedented consequence of knowing Seungkwan.

Quickly you hurried to your friend, who turned to you, pointing her thumb in his direction. “Oh my God.” 

“‘She had this whole dessert thing to prepare for’?” you greeted, hands on your hips. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d realise you were here!” She kept a finger to her chin, thinking over possible escapes. “I mean, I don’t think he saw you in Zara? You hid better than I thought, honestly.” 

“Shit.” You brought your fingers to your temple, scraping against your skin. “And why did he agree with you on me being dedicated?! Fake-ass.” 

Julie then raised a brow. “You’re overthinking it. I am right. Him being passionate about his work doesn’t change the fact that you’re dedicated to it too.” 

You could only grunt in agreement, glancing back to see him a mere speck amongst the sea of Christmas shoppers. 

Although it was a fool’s hope, you wished that he would not bring up this incident tomorrow. 

THE MOMENT YOU STEPPED INTO THE KITCHENS, HE WAS WAITING FOR YOU. 

Not that you were afraid of him—at the end of the day, he was just a man with a small apron and a bad attitude, and you were not letting him get the better of you. 

Except your heart was pounding like an echoing gong, hair standing on the back of your neck. Even your palms were sweating, you flexing and unflexing your hands in distraction. Seungkwan was behind the large commercial hob, cooking something in a pot when he looked over his shoulder, beholding your unnerved presence. 

For the first time since he started working alongside you, he offered you a smile. 

You could have taken the pot and flung the contents on his head. 

“Good morning, _____!” he chirped, the smile widening when you instantly gritted your teeth. “Well rested?”

“Morning,” you replied curtly, tying your apron behind your back. “And yes.”

“Very good,” he asserted, mixing the contents of the pot. He wasted no time in the next question. “How was your weekend?” 

“Alright.”

“Oh, was it? Go anywhere?”

Shit. “Shopping.”

“What a coincidence!” he exclaimed, as if you had revealed the secrets of the universe to him.”I went shopping too.”

“So does everyone and their mothers on the weekend, Seungkwan,” you monotoned, hoping he would take the hint.

He took the hint, of course, but chose to disregard it completely. “My weekend was excellent,” he insisted, tapping the wooden spoon against the pot’s rim, draining out the residue. Making caramel, then. “I went to Westfield yesterday. Very fun, I’ll say.”

I bet it was, prick. “Is that so?” 

“It was so,” he parroted, like the bastard he was. “I actually happened to meet your friend there!” 

Your sigh could have had a laugh rasping out of him. “Which one?” you merely asked, feigning innocence still. 

A snort. “Don’t pretend you have more than one friend, _____.” 

Ouch. “Don’t pretend to know everything about me,” you huffed. 

“Fair enough. I happened to meet Julie.” Satisfied with the slow melting of the sugar and butter, he finally focused on you, leaning against the hob. “Lovely girl, by the way.”

“I know.” You shot him a look. “So?”

“She told me that you were with her this entire time!” 

It took every atom of your strength to not react to that statement. “I was.” 

“Then tell me…” He made to walk towards you, the only boundary between you two being the huge island tabletops. “How come I was so unlucky to miss you yesterday?”

You clenched your jaw. “I left before she saw you.” 

“Left?” he inquired, hand resting on the countertop. “You see, I remember it more as running away the moment she called after me.”

A Jesus Christ slipped out of you before you could help yourself. Instantly you repelled from his walking figure, hurrying to check the sizzling which had increased. The sauce was forming. “What’d you need this for?”

“Caramel Budino. Don’t dodge the question.” You could feel his gaze on you. “Why did you run away from me?”

You took the spoon set on the side, stirring. “I didn’t run away.”

“Yes you did,” he countered immediately. “I saw you bolt into Zara as if they had a closing down sale.”

“Maybe I was excited about their Black Friday deals,” you asserted, sparing him an irritated glance.

His accusatory stare had you looking back at the pot. “Don’t bullshit with me, _____,” He finally stepped past the countertop. “My God. You were stalking me, weren’t you? You and your friend?”

“What—no!” you denounced. “How can you think that?”

He was not four feet from you now. You tried not to look at him; somehow, in the most bothersome of ways, his eyes were unnerving you—as if you had committed some crime, and were now caught red-handed fleeing the scene. Well, you were caught fleeing the scene, but you thought you had escaped the consequences. 

But you had not escaped shit, and now you had to shrink under this bastard’s malicious, victorious scrutiny. 

“Then why did you run away?” he asked you, all quiet. 

The strange hush of his voice had you blurting out an unexpected response. “Because I think you’re a bloody liar.” 

Finally, you mustered the strength to face him—his confusion had you continuing. “You took the day off yesterday, right? For your niece and nephew? Well I didn’t see these so-called nieces and nephews, but a woman I had never met, or seen, even!” You then scoffed. “I was lucky to catch you red-handed, actually, because I was going to work the closing shift!” 

As Seungkwan took in your sudden accusation, craning his head back the further your words attempted to strike true to his pride, he found himself trying to contain a smile. His self-respect was completely intact from your attacks—the more you spoke, the more he was abashed, not quite believing what he heard from your mouth.

He caught onto what you considered the most irrelevant detail from your outburst. “You…you thought I was on a date?”

“Yes!” you snapped. “And you lied about it!”

But he began to chuckle, and you swore you could have seen red. “Why would I be lying?” he merely asked, hand on his white-cottoned chest. 

“To—” but then you stopped yourself. Not everyone is thinking about you. Even the man you happen to hate so much. You pursed your lips, Jeonghan’s words striking your mouth shut. 

Seungkwan, of course, would not let you keep him in such suspense. “To what?” he demanded, lips parted. “The one time I don’t want you to shut up, and you go mute on me!”

That was enough for you to explode. “To get out of working with me!” 

That had him jerking his head back. He squinted his eyes slightly, genuinely stunned, and you knew then and there that you had assumed completely wrong. 

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Jesus Christ, _____,” he began, and the beginnings of his god-awful, self-pleasing laugh was back, aching your ears and flustering your attitude. “You thought…you thought I was avoiding you? Like, some kind of bullied victim?”

You instantly rebuked him, stammering, “W-well, that’s not what I meant—”

“You really are self-centred, aren’t you?” he mocked. “You believe that all you want, sweetheart, but you don’t scare me like that.” 

“I didn’t mean scared, asshole,” you sneered. “I meant hate.”

He put a hand to his hip, leaning against the hob. “Hate?”

“Yes, hate!” you clarified sarcastically, but you did not know why you began to sound absurd. Suddenly, you were the child, and he was the adult playing along to your antics. “Isn’t that what this all is?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, he dared another step towards you. The shuffling of his clothes against the countertop were the only sounds in the room—that, and the sizzling of the caramel. “Do you…do you really hate me?”

Your brain screamed at you to step away from him. Who was he to come this close to you? Who was he to ask you questions that were meant to stay unanswered?

He seemed hell-bent, however, to break unspoken rules. “I asked you a question, _____. Do you truly hate me?”

Although his mouth twisted in a hard smile, almost condescending, his eyes revealed a completely different sentiment. It was strange, so incredibly unsettling, that you knew the difference between what his words spoke, and what his face exposed. You were not meant to understand him like that.

But you did, and that scared you. 

“Do you?” you muttered, barely audible. If he was not so close, he would not have heard you. 

His gaze flickered all over your face. Your inquisitive eyes, your flared nostrils, your mouth, now parted, inhaling, exhaling. His own lips broke, you catching the grit in his teeth, as if mulling over the options—as if there were options to consider. 

Your breath shuddered. “Seungkwan?”

He was not answering you, still staring. What was on your face that fascinated him to this extent? You were not so sure, but still, he did not say a word, merely choosing to relish in your agitated features. Your skin thrummed at his stare, the close proximity of his body. Why was it so hot? 

The air around you, that is—not his body. Not that you were thinking of it—the forearms that were exposed from rolling his sleeves, the sliver of his collarbone from two buttons undone at the top of his shirt. 

“Yes?”

Back on his face—his mouth. "I, uh…" you got out, trying to remember how to speak. "I asked you something.” What was the blasted question again?

A slight, minute dip of his head. “I know.” 

He had to stop. What you should have done was leave the room—cease this madness. 

You only prolonged it. “Do you hate me?”

Another silence, and you were going to die. Collapse in this goddamn kitchen, and this creature of a man would be your only witness. 

He then ghosted the slightest smile on his lips, and you hung onto its movement. “I would have loved to…” 

He dared a little closer—any more and he would brush your mouth. “But then I realised you don’t.” Your change in expression had his ghost-like smile sparking to life. “So I can’t either.”

You did not know why the answer pissed you off. “How can you be sure of that?” you seethed. “I can hate you as much as I want.”

“Hmm, no, you can’t.” His eyes were not boring into yours—only at your mouth, too damn close. “Because you don’t know me well enough to hate me.”

You tilted your head back, enough to gauge—or at least attempt to figure out the undecipherable expression on his face. This close, you understood why the customers stared at him, even double-taken at every peek they could manage through the kitchen windows.  

The man was a little beautiful this close, and this realisation haunted you. 

Your mouth tried to release something, a refusal to his claim, but any counter died on your tongue. How well did you really know him? Sure, you were certain that he was a pain in your arse, but what of the man behind the sordid comments, the constant judgement? How much did you know of the man outside of the boundaries of Vita di Diamante? Hell, your lack of information had you second-guessing whether he even was lying about the kids.

(Though you refused, even now, to give him the benefit of the doubt. For all we know, the kids are either a long-running joke, or Seungkwan’s demons).

Despite all that, his truth was inescapable—solid and present and impossible to deny. You despised him for the entirety of your acquaintance, but did not even bother to know your supposed nemesis. 

Somehow, even after yesterday’s shitshow, this realisation was far more embarrassing than anything you had ever experienced. 

The supposed nemesis watched you discover these revelations, the corners of his lips curling upwards. It was so awful how he understood perfectly, and was now basking in this victory. 

The realisation stunned you so intently you did not grasp the screech-like crackling right next to you. Once the smell of the burnt caramel engulfed your nose, you blinked back, turning to the pot which now looked like brown, volcanic magma after it loses its colour. Instantly you turned the switch off, turning on the exhaust, the smell of the burnt sugar, after realising its presence, now making you ill. Seungkwan only watched you fumble at the stove, finally taking a step back. With that, you were able to breathe. 

Your ammunition was ready. “Look at the mess you’ve made.” 

He took it surprisingly well. “I’ll clean it,” he said, taking the pot and setting it to the side. “It is my fault, after all.”

You raised your eyebrow at him. “You’re taking responsibility for your actions?”

A glimpse towards you. “I told you, didn’t I? You don’t know me.”

That had you shutting up immediately. 

Seungkwan looked at the clock, realising that the restaurant was about to open. Then his eyes settled on you. “I still can’t believe you stalked me.”

You made a face. “That was not stalking. Well, not the scary kind,” you clarified, which did not make your case any stronger. “And anyway, you still haven’t denied the whole date thing, which means you were lying.” 

Dusting away at his apron, he made to walk to the backdoor, about to call for Mingyu to help with ingredient preparation. You thought he was going to outright ignore you, but then he faced you, a certain smile on his face that you could not unravel.

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

And he was off, leaving you even more baffled than you were the first time you accused him. 

ANOTHER WEEK PASSED AT THE RESTAURANT, AND YOU WERE GOBSMACKED TO SEE A SEMBLANCE OF PROGRESS.

One would think that the strange incident in the kitchens would have been talked about further, but Seungkwan made no mention of it—and him making no mentions meant you would cut off your tongue and turn it into a French delicacy before talking about it either. 

Though you wish he had at least made one comment. 

Never before had you felt so…you did not know how to interpret it, but it was clearly something awful. The man had been an entity you had hated, but you wondered whether the emotion was rendered useless after such a heated conversation. It was so stupid, absolute insanity how you could not stop thinking about the proximity of his frame, his breaths fanning your lips, his questions that turned your entire opinion of him on its axis. 

You don’t know me well enough to hate me.

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath.

Though you were cursing yourself, Seungkwan—who was beside you, experimenting on a particular chocolate pudding—took some offence. “What’re you mad about this time?”

Whirling your head to him, you were ready to give him a piece of your delirious mind when you caught the scene before you.

You were already aware he was creating a variation of the Bonet—chocolate, coffee, and rum, mixed and whipped to perfection alongside the core ingredients. He opted to swap the coffee for cinnamon, much to your exasperation. He had already heated his mixture in a not-burnt-to-a-crisp caramel sauce, cooked in a bain-marie—a process of melting chocolate-like mixtures under another pot of boiling water. 

His almost-dessert done, he only had the sprinkle of cacao powder to add to the final product, standing in perfect confidence in front of him. You admired the chocolate excellence, mouth already watering at seeing the soft, textured edges of the pudding. The amaretti macarons at the top contrasted the glaze of the darker chocolate, reflected the lights of the kitchen, and you had to stop your work for the customers, simply admiring the dessert your partner had created. 

Sometimes you forgot that Boo Seungkwan was a born chef. 

He was also a born pain in the ass. “If you can eye-fuck my Bonet, _____, then you can compliment it, too.”

Snapping out of the awe-filled haze, you twisted your mouth. “I suppose it’s not the worst thing you’ve made in this kitchen.”

“You’re right, actually, because the worst thing in this kitchen was made by your hands.”

Boo Seungkwan—the man who, despite your conflicting thoughts over last week, still managed to rile you into a frenzy. You could have cursed him outright, but this week’s apprentice, Wen Junhui, rushed into the room, bearing the role of Kitchen Porter. “There’s more orders for tiramisu!” He informed hurriedly, bringing a further three-dozen eggs upon the busied countertops. 

You looked up to the poor, clueless man. “You do realise you don’t have to take orders, right? That’s the waiter’s job.”

“Jun, here.” Seungkwan patted to the space next to him. “Help me whip some eggs.”

The apprentice obliging instantly, he began cracking eggs on the side of the bowl, setting himself to work. The man in charge with you focused once more on his creation, adorning a proud smirk as he brought out a long spoon next to him. “We should do a Bonet for the final dessert,” he suggested, cutting a small corner. 

“Of course you’ll say that now,” you said. “Oh, and just so you know, I’m never accepting it with cinnamon.”

You watched him raise the spoon, assuming he would take a bite. He then paused, flitting his gaze to you. 

He then changed direction, swinging the spoon ever so slightly—offering it to you. “Go on.”

You looked at it as if you had never seen a spoon before in your life. “You take a bite first,” he clarified. “I need to stamp out this anti-cinnamon agenda once and for all.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you challenged. Taking the spoon from him, avoiding his fingers, you observed the spongy portion before bringing the cutlery’s bowl to your mouth.

The moment the Bonet touched your tongue, it was chocolate heaven—chocolate bliss of the highest order, the cacao flavour merging along with the rum, sparking your senses to life. The most surprising factor was the dreaded cinnamon, spreading its infectious, sugary goodness along your taste buds. It was a small bite, but the chef had packed the sweet universe into a few millilitres, showing you a world where a life could be good and beautiful without any semblance of bitterness. 

Seungkwan watched your reaction, his smug smirk widening. Bringing the spoon out, you could not help the hum that escaped you, and it made him bite his lip, restraining his chuckles. “See?” 

Even still, you attempted to crush his spirits. “I hate it?” you offered, not even convincing yourself. 

The leash on him snapped, huffing out a round of laughter that had you setting the cutlery down. “I suppose you’ll not want another bite, then,” he said.

“Nope,” you lied. You found a clean spoon on the table, offering it to him. “You finish it off.”

The new offering was rejected. “Just give me yours.”

“But I used it.” A tilt of your head. “That doesn’t bother you?”

He jutted out his lip, shaking his head slightly. “Just more dishes to clean. A waste, no?” He gestured with his hand to beckon the old one back. “Pass the other one over.”

“Oh-kay,” you dragged out, handing over the original. With that, he scooped a bite from the Bonet, this time incorporating the little amaretti alongside. 

Your focus trained on him, you watched as he brought the bite to his mouth, his lips closing over the spoon. His reaction was more subdued—unsurprising since it was your first time trying his variation, but nonetheless satisfied as he hummed, closing his eyes. Your eyes took in the sight of him sliding out the spoon from his mouth, his tongue gliding over the silver to lap up the remnants of the chocolate, stubborn to remain. Your cheeks burned at the sight, almost as if you should not be watching. The moment he bit into the amaretti, the crunch against his teeth had you hitching in a breath, as if his mouth, his teeth, had grazed over your mouth, sunken into your skin. 

You blinked back. 

Seungkwan, who had finally opened his eyes, the sensations now subsided, caught your dazed out countenance. He knitted his brows. 

God, you were losing your mind. “Your slobbering was horrendous,” you mocked instead. 

He only shrugged, setting the spoon back on the table. “I don’t waste a thing,” he said, licking his lips—wiping any remnants of chocolate left.

You watched that too—his tongue, which now slid back into his mouth. Another rush of blinking, a sharp sigh, and you caught the ghost of a smile on him. “You should focus on the orders.”

Bastard. “Y-you focus on yours! Instead of wolfing them down!” you exclaimed pathetically. You shot up from where you leaned at the countertop, focusing on the three rounds of Tiramisus ordered. 

Hearing his chuckling behind you had you souring further, face akin to a bonfire, but your mood was soon distracted from the last-hour rush of orders. With Junhui helping the two of you, the round of desserts being created were more effortless, plates of every kind of pudding, gelatos and cakes and pastries leaving your kitchens. The final thirty minutes were more subdued, potential customers understanding that this was no longer the place to dine, and must find sustenance elsewhere. 

Once the time was out for the restaurant’s closure for the day, you thought to close up, already commencing to help the apprentice tidy away the remaining ingredients. Then Jeonghan entered the station, a new, clean apron wrapped around his out-of-work attire. He was set on Seungkwan, pointing towards him. “You,” he began, beckoning him over. “You got a special guest.” 

You narrowed your sight on the man, but his face instantly lit up. That only added to your confusion. Special guest? “Tell her to sit at the reserved table,” he only said, washing his hands off the flour and butter. “I’ll be right over.” 

Watching him rush his usual clean ups, even leaving out a few objects for dessert preparation, you walked up to him, hands on your hips. “Who’s this special guest?” you inquired, his back to you. 

Looking over his shoulder, he shook off the excess water from his hands. “You’ve seen her before.” 

“Huh?” you could only get out, but a moment of thinking had you sucking in a breath. “Wait, you brought your date here?!”

A scoff escaped him, shaking his head. “It’s about time you see the woman who’s bothering you so much.”

“What?!” You glanced at the long, open window of the restaurant layout, where you could spy the seating. “I can’t do that! You’re making this much weirder than it needs to be.” 

“Well, why not?” He stepped past you, grabbing hold of a tea towel. “And remind me, who stalked me for this very information?”

“That was—!” You attempted, but then quietened, realising you could not win that argument. “Piss off.” 

He huffed out a laugh at your response, jerking his head towards the entrance to the main hall. “Come on,” he merely said, walking towards the door. “You can weasel your way out of it to her.”

You wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away from this entire situation—Seungkwan was exploiting his position to use the restaurant as his date-place, and you had managed to trap yourself into this precarious position. 

Despite that, you let your curiosity get to you—yes, it killed the cat, but you were different. Better than that stupid creature. 

Hesitantly, you followed behind as he left the kitchens, weaving his way around the dozens of tables. You caught sight of the mysterious woman, her back to you, but it was not her voice that greeted you first.

Two voices yelped out instead at seeing Seungkwan—voices which were shrilled, higher-pitched, as if they belonged to children. 

You stopped walking as the surprises revealed themselves. 

“Uncle Seungkwan!” 

Two young children—a boy and girl, no more than 11 years old—came running towards your colleague at full speed, nearly bumping against the furniture without a care in the world. You did not see his face, but he must have been smiling, because a delighted oh! escaped him, and his arms were out. He barely had time to raise them before the two kids collided against him, making him stumble back, balance shaky, and you instinctively took a step back, in case he bumped into you. Everyone was laughing in that strong hold, the man’s arms wrapped tightly around them, and your eyes softened without realising.

This was a different Seungkwan. A Seungkwan you had not witnessed—perhaps not been allowed to witness, possibly by your own accord. 

So engrossed by the heartwarming sight, you did not realise the initial woman you planned to see had gotten up from her seat, walking over to the group. “All of you hugging as if you didn’t meet two days ago,” she remarked, a hand on a nearby chair. 

“Don’t get mad because they like me more,” he crowed, glancing at her before ruffling the children’s hair. “Isn’t that right, kids?” 

“Yes!” they both exclaimed in agreement, causing the woman to shake her head. 

She then noticed you behind him, perking her head up. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she stepped past the group, a glance at him. “I didn’t realise you were there.”

That had you scratching the back of your neck—perhaps curiosity made points killing the cat, cause you felt the great urge to die on the spot. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m—” you cleared your throat, a slight suspicion about this whole situation rising in the crevices of your mind. 

Seungkwan chipped in for you, realising your mouth was not working. “This is _____. The partner,” he clarified, and you paused at seeing a knowing look on the woman’s face. “And this….”

He then looked at you. “This is Jinsoul. My sister.” 

Oh. Good. God. 

His introductions extended to the two children. “My very real niece and nephew, Sohyun and Sojung.” 

Your mouth parted at the comment, completely abashed. You were not given more time to ponder on his audacity, because his sister—God, his fucking sister, all this time— held her hand out, immediately greeting you with a smile. “It’s so good to meet you!” A glance at him. “I feel like I know you already.”

“Is that so?” you chuckled out, nerves now rising. 

“Of course!” She let go of your hand after a hearty shake. “Seungkwan talks about you all the time.”

The said-man gaped at her, instantly souring at the reveal before chiding, “Your antics have reached my family’s ears, yes.”

You would have glared at him if you were not still humiliated. “Then I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me,” you admitted.

“Well, why wouldn’t I?” She leaned on the chair. “I just assumed it was Seungkwan’s fault.”

The apparent culprit huffed. “If you wanna side with her so badly, she can make your free dinner.”

But the woman only shrugged, leading her children over to you. “Alright then. Nobody wanted your ass cinnamon rolls anyway.” 

“Hey!” Seungkwan twisted his lips into a frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

With their mother’s encouragement, the children waved their hands in introduction. “Nice to meet you!” the two chirped in almost-unison, the boy who said it a second too late looking away in embarrassment. You could not help waving back, smiling at them. 

Once done with that, she finally answered him. “I am, actually—” a glance down at her watch, inhaling through her teeth— “And am running late, shit.”

“And you said we couldn’t use that word,” the boy—Sojung—grumbled, fixing his beanie. 

“Well I’m a mother in a hurry, sweetie,” Jinsoul reasoned. She faced her brother. “We’ll try coming here, but if we run a little late, then you come ‘round, alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he only said, giving her a quick side-hug before waving her off with a flick of his hand. “Now go away.” 

“Alright, damn.” Pressing a kiss to her children’s cheeks, she offered you a beautiful smile—a striking similarity to her brother’s. “If these kids are being a bother, this big ass one included—” a shove towards him— “You let me know.”

You could not help it, returning her mirth. “I’ll steal his phone and call you.”

Her smile was positively mischievous. “I like you already.” 

With that, she bid her goodbyes one more time, you stunned from her little declaration—her words, and why that had your heart swelling. With Jinsoul leaving, you tried to focus back on the niece and nephew, who were not Seungkwan and Jeonghan’s running joke, but real and alive and in front of you. 

The former, who was watching your shock, snapped you out of it as he focused on the youngest. “Right, you two,” he began, pointing towards their seats, ”Tell me what you want.”

“What’re you making us this time?” Sojung asked, instantly settling himself down, already giddy at the prospect of food. 

“Don’t listen to Mum!” Sohyun chimed in, following after her brother, sitting on one knee as the other leg dangled over the seat. “We’ll have the cinnamon rolls.” 

“Seungkwan’s family and their cinnamon,” you murmured.

The family you mentioned, however, had razor-sharp hearing, and three heads turned to you. “What’s wrong with cinnamon?” the girl asked, 

“Don’t you worry about _____, here, sweetie,” the eldest mock-consoled, “She doesn’t like to have anything sweet.” 

“That’s not true,” you immediately said, but the kids caught onto their uncle’s words quicker than yours, and their shock had you almost embarrassed.

“No way!”

“How do you live your life?”

“Uncle Seungkwan, why didn’t you change her mind?” 

Their incessant questions only had you chuckling nervously—you were sure sweat was breaking out, and that only worsened when the man beside you thoroughly enjoyed you squirming. “Your uncle is exaggerating,” you could only offer them, but you could tell they were not satisfied with your answer.

“Leave it to me,” he only said, winking at the children, “I’ll sort her out soon enough.”

That had you looking at him unconvinced. “You’ve failed for the past year, so I don’t know what’s changing.”

The children began oooooh-ing at what they believed was an insanely sick burn towards their uncle, who scoffed in response. “You’ll find out,” he merely said, then turned his attention to those fanning the flames. “And what happened to backing me up unconditionally?” 

“We’ll support you when you give us some food,” Sojung reasoned, which had you chuckling. Negotiating for a luxury treat? You had to respect them. 

“Alright, alright,” Seungkwan conceded, about to turn on his heel. “You lot stay here, and I’ll whip something up.”

As you watched him begin to leave, you narrowed your eyes at the workspace, separated by the windowless-frame. You focused on the children, an idea hatching. “Hey, you guys wanna come inside?”

Perking up at you, their eyes danced at the prospect. “Could we actually?” Sohyun asked, darting her head between you and the man beside. “Wait, are we even allowed?”

Seungkwan pondered over it, as if genuinely thinking over the restrictions. “So what?” you said, smiling at them. “We’ll make it allowed.”

Your answer was all the children needed, excitement almost reverberating off them. You ushered them out of their seats, pointing them towards the kitchen entrance, and they dashed off before you could offer any general warnings, fighting to contain your smile. 

As Seungkwan watched, following after his niece and nephew, he took a cautionary glimpse at you. “If they break any health code violations, then you’re taking the sack.”

Walking right beside him, you opened the door to the station. “I’ll just say they’re your responsibility, and Jeonghan will finally have an excuse to fire you.”

But he was snickering softly at the claim, close at your heels as he stepped inside. It could have been the lowering of his voice, the slight octave down—perhaps the proximity again, which might have been purposeful on his part. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he muttered, and you had to blame the chill from the open windows for the shivers down your neck. 

By the time you both entered, Sojung and Sohyun were already exploring the premises, marvelling at the professional equipment, the grandeur of the stainless steel. It was as if the stations were a long, forgotten historical site, and the children were archaeologists, brushes at the ready to inspect, marvelling at anything they had not seen before. The half-eaten Bonet latched onto their fancies, and they would have eaten the dessert with their bare hands had Seungkwan not tutted, pointing at the clean spoons on the countertop.

“I was expecting the kitchen to be really messy,” Sohyun commented, eyes straying from the pudding to observe the surroundings once more. “Wouldn’t it get so busy in here?”

“Super busy,” you admitted, “Especially during this time. Mind you, sometimes there’s no room around here, there’s so much ingredients to take care of.”

As he tried to find said-plethora-of-ingredients, Sojung said, “I bet you could have such a good food fight in here.” He glanced at the Bonet, and then at his sister. 

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, raising her cutlery as a legendary weapon. 

But you did not fixate on their conversation to the end, because the mention of the food fight had you glancing at the man who you had actually thrown food at. It was not as if it was that long ago—hell, Seungkwan would have only just rid himself off the mascarpone from his hair. 

You even remembered how it all began—the fateful incident which brought down Jeonghan’s wrath, and ultimately this dreaded assignment. It was like any other prep day for the restaurant, Mingyu helping alongside you two as you prepared the ingredients on the countertops, finalising the desserts which were to be offered that night. It had to be stressed—it was a completely normal day. 

Except Seungkwan had already sparked your irritation alive from the initial disagreements on the flavour variations of the Cassata Siciliana—a layered cake of sheep ricotta cheese, chocolate, candied fruit, all topped with marzipan. The blends of the cheese usually worked wonders, but the idiot suggested substituting the traditional ricotta for mascarpone, apparently enriching the dessert to its fullest extent. You knew his scheming was simply to have a sweeter grand dessert on the menu, but you refused to fall for his antics. You instantly rejected his attempts, and that only fuelled his anger, insisting that the specialised cream be used for the Cassata or he would refuse to add your additions. 

You did not know whether it was that warning, or the notion that he had no power to even say such a warning. Whatever the motivation, it was enough for you to ask him a simple question, hands straying to the ingredients. 

“You wanna know where mascarpone cream would look best?” 

Forever the fool, he asked, hoping his condescending nature would rile you up. 

And because you were a greater fool than he was, you only scooped the cream and flung it on his face, he yelping as it stuck to the perfect curls of his brown hair. Reeling back from the mess, he touched the remnants on his cheeks, his locks, gaping at it until he set his stare on you. 

It was then the chaos began. The pandemonium that followed, food flying everywhere in places you never thought it would reach, a pitiful waste of ingredients and emotions as the rest of the crew scrambled to mediate between the two of you. Even Jeonghan had difficulty at first, but one guttural roar had everyone pausing. Everything afterwards was history. 

Looking at him now, though, imagining the chaos of it all…it brought a strange fluttering within your chest. You did not think there was anyone else you could have thrown food at. 

With the way he returned your gaze, his usual sharp glower softened as the memory flashed within his own eyes. He could not help himself, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards the more he delved into it, the verbal lashings the two of you received afterwards.

It was there, in the kitchens, with the children stealing glances at the stillness of their guardians, the faint scent of cinnamon still in the air, that you smiled at Seungkwan without an ounce of ridicule laced in it.

His eyes widened. His slight surprise had you smiling a little wider, but before he could say anything, he was duly interrupted. “Uncle Seungkwan, when are we getting any food?” 

Sojung joined in. “Stop staring at Miss _____ here!” 

The accused immediately composed himself. “Jinsoul really needs to discipline you both…”

Fidgeting with your rolled-up sleeves, you resorted to helping your partner. “Right, you two,” you asserted, clapping your hands together, “What do you want?” 

Sohyun dug the toe of her boot further into the floor, all sheepish. “We were hoping Uncle Seungkwan would make us the usual.”

“The usual?” A side-glance at him. “Anything special?”

“I didn’t think so,” he admitted, a finger at his chin as he thought about his ingredients’ whereabouts. “They can’t have enough of it, though.” After another moment, he turned to the direction of the pantry. “Hey, there’s still vanilla gelato leftover right?”

Once you nodded, he was off, heading towards the other entrance, promising to come back within minutes. With the common man gone, you looked at the two children, whose curiosities still seemed unsatiated. 

You decided to question them first. “What’s your uncle making you?”

The boy answered before his sister even opened her mouth. “It’s so good! It’s what Uncle Seungkwan makes us every time we come here.” 

“All I know is that Sojung always makes Uncle Seungkwan add more ice cream than mine.”

“Now you’re just lying!” he rebuked, aching to push her off the countertop. “She always gets more biscuits in hers, so she can’t complain!”

You chuckled at their antics, speaking over them to settle their bickering. “Biscuits and ice cream is it?” 

“No, no, it’s like…” the girl imitated with her hands, describing the shape of an odd-looking mug. “You put ice cream first, then hot chocolate, and then Uncle Seungkwan adds more stuff I can’t remember.”

“It’s amazing,” Sojung promised, his face serious and persuasive, as if he was a politician promising a controversial policy. 

Impressed by his words, you, the hesitant voter, decided to believe him. “You’ve convinced me, little man.” You glanced over your shoulder—at the other entrance—before focusing on the boy, whispering, “Your Uncle Seungkwan does make a killer dessert.”

“Why’re you saying it like that?” Sohyun asked, matching your hushed tone. “Do you not like him?”

You contemplated the question. It was simple enough—they were not expecting a Tolstoy-saga timeline of your unstable partnership with their uncle. A couple of weeks ago, the answer would have been easier.

Situations, however, had changed—shifted indefinitely, throwing your viewpoint off its axis. You both were rivalling teams, always rooting for each other’s downfall, and now you both played for the same side, and it was…you did not know. Well, you did know, were very aware of how it felt, but it was something you could not voice out loud—not even to yourself.

So you merely said, “He’s alright…your Uncle Seungkwan,” and hoped to anything that resided above that it was enough.

It seemed so—then, Sojung, forever curious, thought to be more personal than his sister. “If you don’t like him, then who do you like?”

You were astounded by how nosy children were, but realised they were related to Seungkwan. Checks out. “I’m afraid I’m too busy working to have workplace crushes.”

As you made your declaration, you heard the man on a mission return, door swinging open with his foot as he held the ingredients. Walking over to the counter, he dumped the contents, you observing what he brought: a box of fresh vanilla gelato, a 4-pint carton of semi-skimmed milk, and a few small pots, labelled as almonds, hazelnuts, amarettis. 

“Is she telling the truth?” Sojung asked his uncle, you gasping at the notion. Since when did children require witness confirmation for your half-lies?

Seungkwan snorted as he brought out a pot from the side of the hob, setting the base upon the bottom right stove, sparking the flames to life. Without even looking back, he grabbed the milk carton, unscrewing the cap. “She’s lying to you guys,” he confirmed, pouring the contents inside. He set the half-empty container beside him, sparing you a mischievous glance. “She’s too busy arguing with me.”

“Hey!” The children began to laugh. “I only argue with him when he’s provoking me.”

Snickering knowingly, he walked to the metal cupboards settled in the corner, opening them up to procure three elongated glasses, small, circular handles on their sides, narrowing at the bottom. Setting them before his esteemed customers, he replied, “I’ll have you know, _____, you’re the one who starts most of our arguments.”

“Since when?” 

Usually, his stare would have been incredulous, unamused. This time, though, his eyes were dancing. “Did you know, kids,” he began, voice deepening as if regaling a fantasy tale, grabbing the tub of luxury hot chocolate powder, “That _____ and I had a real food fight here?”

“No way!” Sohyun gasped. “Did you guys get in trouble?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, sighing through his teeth as he poured two heaped teaspoons within each glass. “Our punishment was to work on a dessert together.”

“Uncle Jeonghan has a weird way of punishing someone,” the girl commented. 

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, Seungkwan also murmuring in agreement as he started the kettle, the water heating at lightning-speed and ready before you realised. Picking up the kettle from its base, he poured a little into each cup, mixing the powder within the water to rid himself of the textured cocoa forming. “Hot chocolate?” you inquired, watching his every movement—his setting the kettle back, all the while grabbing the milk off the stove, pouring three-quarters full of every glass, stirring simultaneously whilst he drained the pot off its boiling contents. 

This was second nature to him—he did not answer, engrossed in his work, because this was him in his element. He was a born creator, thriving in the atmosphere of nourishment. The scent of hot cocoa and vanilla, amplified when his nephew cracked open the container, delighted your senses, mouth watering at the notion of trying this beverage. 

The girl beside you responded for him as he set the empty pot to the side. “It’s more than hot chocolate,” she said, as she grabbed hold of a spoon, hoping to take a bite but stopped when her uncle shot her a disapproving look. “Please, just one bite!” 

“You and your brother won’t leave us with any when you’re done,” he scolded, holding out his hand. Caught red-handed, she begrudgingly gave him the spoon, which he put away, instead bringing out an ice cream scoop. Checking the open container, he brought the scoop down, the soft gelato curling luxuriously within the curve of the metal. He was generous with his serving, the gelato fighting to stay on the scoop as he dropped the first into the hot chocolate closest to him, quite low to avoid any chocolate spillage. He added another to the glass before repeating it several times for the other two cups, giving in to the children’s request for more in their serving. 

You realised the product was finished when, before Seungkwan could declare it himself, the kids yanked their cups further away from him, excitement radiating off their features. “Thank you, thank you!” they both chirped in harmony, instantly sipping on the hot chocolate and groaning in approval. 

The esteemed chef took hold of your glass by the handle, walking over to where you leaned forward at the counter. Straightening yourself, you judged the final product, him leaning back before it. “Voila,” he said, “Or whatever you call it in Italian.”

“It’s the same, actually.” You pulled the cup closer, admiring the chocolate-to-milk gradient, the vanilla ice cream slowly melting within the glass. “Not bad.”

He ticked his head to the side, furrowing his brows. “Um, I think you meant to say it looks exquisite.”

“What even is it?” You turned the glass around. 

Seungkwan watched you inspect the contents. “It’s, uh…it’s a drink I’ve always made for them, back in my apprentice days.” He brought a hand to his torso, smoothing down his apron. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it, but I changed it a little…made it more kid-friendly.”

“Kid-friendly?” A glance at him. “What the hell was the original drink?” 

He scoffed out a chuckle. “It’s nothing like what you’re thinking. The original beverage had liquid espresso, and I thought it’d be too bitter for them.”

“That’s fair.” Taking a spoon from the pile of cutlery, you began stirring the ice cream, melting it within the milky hot chocolate. Taking a sip, you slipped the spoon in your mouth and hummed. “Oh…woah.”

“Use your words, _____,” he merely said, earning a second-glare from you. You could not retain it though, instantly digging in.

“This is nice, actually,” you had to admit. Seeing the man try to bask in your half-assed compliment had you adding on, “But I will say, I would have liked the espresso. I know what you mean about the kid-friendliness of it all.”

“I can make it if you want.” He glanced at the equipment—the barista-standard machines, more portable coffee-machines, the like. “There’s a french press thrown in the cupboard somewhere.”

You looked at him, slightly disbelieving. “You just made me this.”

“So?” He shrugged, twisting his lips to the side. “It won’t be hard.” He took a step back, watching over the children. “You two want a snack or something?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Sohyun demanded, sipping the last of the drink. 

“I wonder where they got their attitude from,” he grumbled, grabbing their empty glasses and bringing them to the sink. 

You could not help your snort, scooping out half-melted ice cream. “I’m looking right at him.”

“I hope the hell you’re not looking at me right now,” was his warning, turning on the faucet and letting the hot water fill the dirtied glasses. 

He made sure you were not, but you were never one to follow orders. You watched him as he brought out a french press from the cupboards beside the machines. “This won’t make the best espresso, but I can’t be arsed to fire up the machines right now.”

“Wow, such high-class customer service!” you shrilled, slowly walking over to the fridges on the opposite side and opening the door, finding the airtight Bombe Calde doughnuts sitting daintily inside. Deciding to take all eight displayed, you closed the fridge, setting them before the table. 

The children jumped on the treats at once, Seungkwan tutting at their sheer gluttony. “You’re gonna get sick, and then your mum is gonna beat me up.”

“Noshewomt,” was the boy’s coherent answer, mouth too occupied with the chocolate doughnut to bother clarifying.  

Turning the kettle on once more, the man obtained the finely-ground coffee beans, adding a couple teaspoons within the french press and waiting for the water to boil. “Pass me one, will you?” he asked, and you decided to comply, taking one from the plate—noticing half of them have been wiped out—and holding it out to him. 

He held out his hand, fingers brushing against yours as he accepted the treat, your own hand still in the air between as he brought it to his mouth, taking a bite. You did not realise your fingers were still holding out the outline of the dessert until the switch on the kettle ticked off, snapping you out of your daze. Curling them into your palm, you set your hand to the side, sighing sharply. “You don’t have to make this.”

Luring the jug to the open press, he poured the water, the fine coffee instantly darkening the liquid. “You don’t want it?”

“Well…” you trailed off, watching him as he took the plunger, pressing the lid shut upon its glass and began pumping the water and coffee together. He was quick, up and down and repeating the gesture, creating a more bitter colour. “It’s not that…”

Finishing, he chose to not to respond then, only taking a new glass from the cupboard in front of him. “Sohyun, the gelato.”

His niece obliging, he deposited two scoops of the ice cream, one after the other. Then, assuming this was the final touch, he poured the espresso inside, assuring that the ice cream was drenched in the bitter flavour, until the french press was drained. 

Perhaps your partner was correct—the bitterness of the drink, even the mere scent of coffee in your nostrils had you exhaling in satisfaction. Seungkwan caught it, smiling a little in reaction. 

It was then he chose to respond. “I wanted to make it for you.”

“Oh.” You chose to admire the dessert-beverage he made—for you only, you thought. “Does it have a name?”

A nod. “It does.” You could feel his eyes on you. His fingers grazed the glass’ base, curling—close to where your own fingers wandered, nail scratching against the curves of the cup. “It’s called an affogato.”

You looked at him. “An affogato? I’ve had a few of these before.” Taking your spoon, you cut through the gelato, making sure you scooped enough of the espresso. Once you dared a taste, you instantly hummed, the bittersweet mixture of the ice cream and the coffee enlivening your taste buds. “Oh, Christ, this is the one.”

“I knew you would enjoy the original recipe,” Seungkwan remarked, watching you lap away at the dessert. “I will say, though, the french press doesn’t do the espresso justice.” 

“Yeah, you use the proper machines for it, right?” Another bite taken. “This is insane, though.” 

“You think so?” When you nodded, he dipped his head, acknowledging your approval. He blew air from his mouth, a deep sigh which had you tilting your head. “I used to make it a lot, back in the day.” 

“Your apprentice days?” you parrotted, just as he did earlier. 

He only squinted his eyes, an effort to keep your teasing in check, but found himself chuckling. “Yeah, back in Jeju. My dad loved to make them…he, like, would always add different flavoured ice creams in the espresso, maybe add hot chocolate if I wasn’t feeling too good with coffee…”

“Your dad made you these?” You sipped on the drink, careful of the ice cream. “That’s really sweet.”

“I know.” Taking a bite out of the bambe calde, he continued, “Yeah, he’s really supportive. My mum, too, but it took some time for her to accept that I wasn’t gonna be a doctor.”

“You’re better off for sure,” you remarked, stirring the contents. “Imagine your ass trying to do surgery on someone…you’d get the hospital sued.”

“First of all, fuck you,” he started, but quickly stopped when his niece and nephew gasped at the curse. “Sorry, sorry! I promise she doesn’t mind.”

“Don’t say sorry to us, too, say it to _____!” Sojung ordered.

“You’re being mean, Uncle Seungkwan,” Sohyun huffed next.

“Yeah, Uncle Seungkwan,” you chimed in, earning a berating glower from him. “You’re being rude.” 

“Well I’m so sorry, _____,” the man chirped, and you had to keep drinking to stop yourself from laughing. “Now, you two, get back to stuffing your faces.” 

As the kids happily obliged, you released a satisfied exhale as you finished off the espresso, half-melted ice cream left in the glass. “I still mean it. You would have been worse off as a doctor.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. I’ll kill off my patients because I wouldn’t know the difference between a scalpel and a butter knife.” 

“No, not like that.” You turned to him. “Seungkwan, you were meant to create desserts.”

He looked at you then, not quite believing his ears. “Do you really believe that?” 

“Of course.” Your eyes flickered to the remnants of the affogato. “There’s a reason Jeonghan kept you…hell, there’s a reason I still haven’t managed to get rid of you.”

There was a pause, felt enough that you snuck a quick glance as you watched over the conversing children. 

“Do you want to?” he asked. Your gaze stuck, and he furrowed his brows, clarifying, “Get rid of me, still?”

He looked at you, and you found yourself a little lost in his eyes. There was one certainty you could rely on, and that was his gaze—whatever he felt, he always exposed it, whether he wanted to or not.

Tonight was different. Tonight, with the children nearby, you still stirring the melted gelato, you could not comprehend them. What his eyes offered this time was tenderness—a certain warmth you had never been offered by him since…since ever. Since as long as you had known him. 

So you held up the cup, finishing the rest of the dessert—the dessert he had made with his own hands.

You decided to say something else instead of answering his question—something better. “I think we’ve found our dessert, Seungkwan.”

The man’s warmth morphed with confusion. “The affogato,” you said, holding out the glass. “We should make it for our Christmas menu.” His stance had you carrying on, setting the cup to the side as you focused on him. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out. You said it yourself, you can make this with various flavours right?” His nod had you continuing, “And obviously, we’ve seen that you can change around the drink bit, too.”

“Hmm…” That had him thinking, and you could see it, the cogs within his head turning at rapid speed. “Wait, you know what…my dad also added liqueurs in the drink, which gave a little fire to the dessert. I liked it a lot, but obviously you can’t give hard alcohol to kids, so…”

“Very responsible,” you deemed it. “And it’s so easy to make! I mean, you whipped it up within minutes for me.” 

He was straightened up now, watching you intently as you thought about it further, the entire prospect of it. “It could be quicker, too, you know. The french press takes more time, but if we made it on the machine, then—” He cut himself off, thinking and thinking, walking towards the countertop. “Wait, this could actually work.” 

“What can work, Uncle Seungkwan?” his nephew asked, curiosity prompting his question. 

“Something really special, Sojung,” he replied, scouring the table for his notes, but realising he left them at the changing lockers. “Shit. Shit.”

“Language!” Sohyun chided, but her dear uncle wasn’t really listening, whipping out his phone and typing ferociously.

You did not realise what he was doing until he pressed the phone to his ear, pointing at the kids to wash their hands. “Hello? Yeah, Jinsoul, hi, you guys back from the date?” A pause, as he started a pace, back and forth in the kitchen. “Hmm, yeah, don’t care about all those details, listen—” He turned a sharp corner, finding the words, “Is it alright if I could drop the kids back right now? Something urgent came up.”

As he listened to his sister, his eyes flickered to you. “Yeah…it is. We thought of something perfect.” 

You avoided his gaze then—a cowardly choice, you knew—but, perhaps for the first time, his stare was a little too intense. “Yeah, don’t worry about that, I’ll do it,” he said, “I owe you. For real this time.”

As the man ended the call, the nephew pulled a face. “Do we have to go back already?” he whined, licking the sugar from his fingers. 

“Afraid so, buddy,” was his response, pocketing his phone. “Come on, you two, I gotta take you back to your parents.”

“But what about _____?” Sohyun asked, watching you intently as you began to clear away the dishes. 

“I’ll get going, too,” you replied, cleaning the rest of the dishes, setting them on the side. “Or else my friend will think I’m overworking myself.” 

“Julie?” Seungkwan asked, and you nodded. “How is she doing, by the way?”

Dusting away at your hands, you gave him a look, untying your apron. “How do you know her name?”

“I talked to her when you ran away from me, remember?”

“I didn’t run away,” you muttered, but that did not stop the pompous twist of his mouth, threatening to sour your mood. 

Another ten minutes, and the rest of you were sorted, clothing and other personal items extracted from your locker and donning your coat. You let Seungkwan and the children exit first, making sure all the entrances were locked save for the one you were leaving from.

The chill of the London winter nipped at your face as you left from the backdoor, a slight shiver cluttering your teeth as you locked the premises. You witnessed the man firmly wrapping his huge red scarf around the girl, whispering to the boy at the same time to don his gloves—yes, even if they don’t let him use his phone.

As you walked over to the group, you were about to start when he beat you to it. “I'll drop Sohyun and Sojung off, and then I’ll get to the planning. My dad will be up around this time, so I’ll ask about his preferences.”

“I’ll do some research back home,” you offered. “Jinsoul wasn’t mad, right? I think you disturbed her date.”

“She’ll live,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We’ve got more important things to do, anyway.”

Nodding, you then leaned forward, smiling at the children. “You two should come again.” 

“Oh, we will!” Sojung promised, smirking. “I don’t know why Uncle Seungkwan was hiding you from us.”

The accused ruffled the boy’s hair. “You’re running your mouth too much today.”

“He always runs his mouth too much,” Sohyun muttered, causing her brother to stick his tongue out at her. 

Giggling at their antics, you looked to Seungkwan, who sighed slightly as you released another shiver. “You know I need you alive for this dessert report.”

Hugging yourself tightly, you remarked, “Who would have thought Boo Seungkwan wanted me happy and healthy by his side?”

A snort, misting in the cold air. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I said alive. Barely is fine by me, too.”

You shook your head at him, restraining the urge to let your lips quirk upward. “Goodnight, Seungkwan.”

As you swivelled with a last goodbye to his niece and nephew, you left for the underground, not two minutes away. 

Sohyun was the first to break the night silence as you finally turned the corner, away from their sight. “I like her, Uncle Seungkwan,” she declared, walking ahead of the group. 

“Me too,” Sojung agreed, following after his sister in hopes to tread on her boots. “I hope we see her again.”

The man did not listen to their petty arguments which soon replaced their praises of you, holding onto their first confessions. And although he did not voice them out loud, his thoughts were an answer, left unsaid.

You will see her again—whether I want to or not.

THE NEXT WEEK BROUGHT ANOTHER CHANGE WITHIN YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH SEUNGKWAN. 

Mostly because what you and your partner had actually was a relationship now. The intense months, before the Christmas menu was even established, where you and him had argued and screamed the kitchen down had soothed into a kurt understanding of the dessert you were about to create. At last, after months of your victories, your losses to him, the disgruntled progression into stalemates, you two had achieved the unachievable.

You both had decided on a dessert.

Jeonghan could not believe his ears when you first informed him, and immediately booked himself a special Specsaver’s hearing test—you forgot how far he would go for a bit, but at least it was not your time he was wasting. He asked Seungkwan for confirmation, and, sure enough, when the latter agreed, your boss may have experienced shell-shock akin to war veterans. Of course, you wanted to be offended, but you had no right—at the end of the day, Jeonghan had only ever seen violence brewing between you and the dessert chef. Any semblance of toleration was considered a breaking-news event.

The two of you tried not to let Jeonghan’s shock distract you from your planning—Seungkwan received a wealth of information from his father, and learned that the most classic form of the affogato is the one he created for you—the vanilla gelato, and hot espresso poured on top. Although it was delicious, it was deemed too plain for Christmas menu, and opted for more flavours. 

Seungkwan first offered the idea for whipped cream, but you rejected it. “Whipped cream and gelato seems excessive,” you explained, looking over your research notes. “The cream might offset the gelato’s flavour.”

“How do you feel about chocolate shavings? It could work well with smoothing out the bitterness of the espresso.” 

“But the gelato’s doing that,” you countered. “I don’t mind it, but I’d want something stronger for the first choice.” 

“Hmm…” He skimmed his father’s ramblings for a moment, then handed it to you. “This is what Dad used. He’d swap certain things around.”

Reading through, the first thing you noticed was the neat writing—Seungkwan’s, undoubtedly. He had categorised different gelato flavours in one column, espresso or other coffee variations in the second, liqueur choices for the third, and the last, larger column was reserved for toppings. “He certainly has range,” you commented, looking up. “How come you missed learning it?”

“You’re the only one blind to it,” he disputed, crossing his arms. “It’s a wonder you’re not turning down the affogato as we speak.” 

“You never know!” you chirped sarcastically, in hope to keep him on his toes. “Did you try out all these variations?”

“Yep. I was a picky eater.” He exhaled through his nose at your incredulous look, reminiscing. “Shocking, I know. Aside from the alcohol, he tried every single one of those flavours. All of them are approved by child-me, teenage-me, and today-me.” 

“I see,” you said, reverting back to the notes. You had to admit, his father did take liberties with what he deemed Italian for an Italian drink. As you kept reading it over, glancing at the man’s peaceful recollection, you did not think that mattered. 

This was someone’s efforts to keep their child full. This was a father’s testimony of ensuring his son’s happiness. 

You smiled at the notion, offering the pages back to him. “I personally like the biscotti the most out of all these options. If we chop the biscuit finely enough, it’ll have a nice crunch in the dessert. It’ll keep the espresso’s essence as well, while also maintaining the sweetness of the ice cream.”

His slight surprise had you pulling back. “What? Oh, is this your turn to reject me now?”

But then he smiled a little, catching you off guard. “No, the opposite actually. I’m just surprised you chose that one.”

“Why?” You groaned, getting up from your seat. “It’s the worst one, right? Baby-you threw up after having it, I’m sure.”

“No, actually.” He paused. “The biscotti was my favourite topping.”

Oh. “So…you’re good for its almond flavouring?”

He nodded, taking the papers from you. “Yeah, I am…why are you asking?”

“It’s just…I don’t think we’ve ever agreed to a decision so…cordially.” 

Seungkwan scoffed. “Well, obviously we weren’t gonna argue when you agreed with me.”

You instantly checked him on this. “I was the one who suggested it.”

His counter was immediate. “You picked it from my notes.”

A click of your tongue. “Your dad’s, actually.” 

He opened his mouth, eyes narrowing, but then realised you were right, and clamped his lips together. The action within those sudden sequences had you offering him a smirk. “And I thought we were past all this,” he whinged, exasperation clear. 

“Don’t think I’ll let you win so easily,” you warned, widening your shit-eating smile as you walked over to the espresso machines, regarding the fine steel in its all shining glory. 

“I never win easily with you,” he grumbled, stepping beside you. 

“It should be kept that way,” you only said. “Now, how do we work this shit?” 

Seungkwan turned away from you, hiding his bemused smile before clearing his throat and explaining the rules. This was the way you two worked now—a smidge of back and forth bickering, but never truly rising to the surface where you threatened ultimate violence. 

It was strange, you had to admit; never before had you felt a tolerance, even an acceptance of his presence beside you. He would offer assistance of some kind, bring forth new suggestions, and your first instinct was not to cuss out his ancestors for suggesting such gullible ideas. Even the man who worked alongside you would not provoke your rash temper, and day by day you found yourself wondering why, after the entirety of his acquaintance, you had never simply got on with him. 

You did not care to investigate the origins of who was at fault. All that was left, in a sense, was to salvage whatever strange alliance you both had created, and hope that was enough to finish the final dessert. 

The preparations, the testing of the machines continued into the restaurant’s opening, and Jeonghan assisted, as promised during the beginning of the process, in helping with orders, teaching Junhui of the more luxurious, complex desserts during that time. Thankfully, the restaurant was quieter that day, so the Head Chef was relaxed, carefree enough to try provoking you and Seungkwan into a disagreement, but to no avail. 

The trialling carried on well into the night, the only people left in the restaurant being you two and Jeonghan, who was arguing with his accountant loud enough to hear it through the dessert stations. You ignored him, tasting the newly created vanilla gelato, liquid espresso and biscotti pieces sprinkled. Seungkwan brought out the last touch, pouring a half-shot of amaretto liqueur into the long, slender glass. 

And as the two of you tasted the dessert, your spoon first, and then passing it onto him, you realised you may have made something great—perfection can take a while, you both understood it, but what you two created was something bigger than yourselves. Realistically, it was just a beverage, but it was not just a beverage—this was peace, scooped up within the containers of the gelato, an acceptance peeking out within the chopped biscottis. This was—could you say it—respect, poured from his very hands, staining the glass of your relationship with him. 

Even as the two of you shared a look of understanding, finishing the singular affogatto together, you knew circumstances had shifted—something was different. 

Seeing as the boss was stuck with working out his finances, you decided to head out, letting Seungkwan finish with the cleaning up, lest you make a sound and he made you carry out your dishwashing. You made a head start towards your belongings in the other room, taking out your bag and jacket as the man walked to his lockers. Donning your layers, he slid out his satchel, coat and that long-ass scarf, snapping the square door shut. 

“I think we can send the report to Jeonghan any day now,” he said, sliding his arms through the coat holes. 

You began to walk to the back door, watching him follow slowly. “You think so?” 

He caught up, wrapping his scarf around himself—three loops round his neck, almost hiding half his face. Pulling down the fabric with a finger, he settled his chin over the scarf, nodding. “We’ve done almost everything…I mean, there’s a bit of paperwork left, but I’ll write that tonight when I’m at Jinsoul’s.”

“You’re going to your sister’s?” you asked as you grabbed onto the door. “Don’t tell me you’re interrupting the poor couple again.”

“So what if I am?” he demanded. “That’s on them for establishing a relationship between me and their kids.”

“Fair enough.” Opening the door to the outside world, you instantly shivered at the sheer temperature drop from the past few days. London’s winters were unpredictable, but you forgot its cruelty too. The chill of the midnight winter seeped through your too-thin jacket, and you had to stop yourself from shivering out of your bones.

Your teeth would have chattered more had Seungkwan not spoken again. “She was asking about you, by the way.”

“Oh,” you could only say—courtesy of the cold, and the teeth. “She was?” 

“Why’re you so shocked by that?”

A lazy shrug. “I don’t know…I thought you would have talked shit about me.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Now why would you think that?” You returned the gaze, and then he let out an understanding noise. “Oh, yeah…yeah, I did that the other day actually.”

“Hey, now!” You would have nudged his elbow, but were too cold to do so. “I haven’t pissed you off this past fortnight.”

“I know, I know, I just…” he sighed a little, which frosted into the air. “I mean…I’ve mentioned you. In passing.”

“In passing?” You parroted, hugging yourself. A frosted scoff escaped you. “You can’t help being obsessed with me, huh?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, which had you chuckling—the soft laughter was cut off by your teeth once more, chattering to the point of catching his notice. “You knew it was gonna get cold, you idiot.” 

You returned his observations with a glare. “I didn’t actually know that, which is why I’m cold right now…you idiot.”

The condensation from your mouth was enough evidence of the chill—that, and of course, your bated breaths. “Yes, I’m the idiot that’s so nice and warm,” Seungkwan sang, irritating you further. 

When you did not deign to respond to him, the cold weather conquering your meagre layers, nipping at your skin, he stopped the next dig, at the tip of his tongue. He then observed your countenance—the rubbing of the arms, the groans you tried to contain at the discomfort taking over. The man veiled his mouth with the bunched-up scarf, narrowing his eyes. Sighing a little, the heat of his breath curled against the fabric, kissing his face, and the slight warmth that welcomed him did not bring him the comfort he relished mere minutes prior. 

He looked at you, hugging yourself tightly. The moment your eyes flickered to his, remnants of displeasure in your eyes, his own widened slightly.

Shit. His hands grabbed onto the scarf before he realised what he was doing. Shit, shit, shit, was all he could think, as, with hands unwrapping the long piece of clothing from his neck, he seethed a little at the chill that welcomed his exposed skin.

Before you could realise what he was doing, he brought the length of the scarf around you, both his hands holding each of the ends at your sides. “Wh-what are you doing?” you got out, your hands instantly stopping his. “Wait, Seungkwan—”

“Save your bickering,” he cut you off, merely waving your hands away as he wrapped the first loop around you, the scarf still too long on one side. “Talking will only make you colder.”

But you were already opening your mouth, ready to counter him when another loop of the scarf masked half of your face. Your surprise was shown only through your eyes, but he ignored it completely, wrapping the length around one last time. The scarf had almost shrunk you, your head buried in the layers, and Seungkwan had to pause for a second, unable to contain his smile. 

What are you smiling at? you asked, except the scarf had mumbled your speech, and he could not hear a thing. He could understand very clearly the irritation, though, rising in your gaze, and that only broke the seam of his lips, grinning at you. 

“Wait, hold still,” he said, reaching to the top of the neckwear. He leaned in, fingers folding down the fabric, slowly and gently, and you blinked back at the proximity. You had a feeling he had not noticed at first, but then your eyes bore into him, and his fingers slowed. His knuckle brushed against your jaw, and a soft shiver escaped you, finally catching his attention. Only then he stole a glance, realising just how close he was to you. 

His pupils were darting all over your face, as much as he could take in from the closeness. You could not help it either, mouth parting, watching his bated breaths condense upon your face. God, he was close to you, and it was out of the ordinary, unfamiliar territory. If he leaned in any further, his lips would caress yours, solving the problem of this chill. You were not cold though—not anymore, with your cheeks burning every second spent under his scrutiny. 

You should be pulling away—should be taking a step back. He felt the same. Once again, the two of you were in sync; always denying how similar you both thought, but confronted with that fated truth. 

Seungkwan could see it—the truth, reflecting in your gaze. “There,” he whispered, fingers brushing against the scarf. 

The scarf. His scarf. “I can’t have this,” you said, but your voice was barely there. “It’s yours.” 

“I know.” A ghost of his raised brow. “It’s not like I’m giving it to you forever. I will take it back.”

You twisted your mouth. “Way to ruin a moment.” 

He parted his mouth, both brows raising. “Was there a moment to ruin?” 

“No!” you gasped out, craning your head back. You saw his smirk rise, and it was agonising, how your speech stuttered. “No, no, no. No moment here! You’re thinking it all up.” 

“Hmm,” was all he got out, gaze skimming over your face—pausing at your mouth. “If you say so.” 

With one last moment (because yes, there was something, and there was no denying it anymore), he stepped away, admiring the scarf wrapped around you. “Maybe I should let you keep it.”

This time, you had to look away. “You can have it back tomorrow.” Glancing over the time on your phone, you cleared your throat, fidgeting with the fabric. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nodded, hands sliding in his pockets. “We’re so close, _____.” 

Choosing to avoid his eyes, you instead focused on the locks of his hair, the lapels of his jacket. It was unavoidable—he was beautiful, and he was smiling. A celebration of the coming victory, so near that you could taste Jeonghan’s approval. 

So you smiled back. “We are, Seungkwan.” 

JEONGHAN TURNED ANOTHER PAGE OF THE FINAL DESSERT REPORT. 

You waited anxiously, one leg folded over the other as your eyes focused intently at the head chef, reading over the analysis. He was silent for the first time in a while, no sarcastic quip over the explanations. No questions were thrown at you, catching you off—all you were tested with was complete quiet, which, in a weirder sense, unnerved you more. 

Your partner was there, too—in the same seat he always claimed on your right, bouncing his leg in anticipation, eyes trained at the same target as yours. He, on the other hand, could not deal with the silence which permeated the office. “I think you’ve read this section for the third time, Chef.” 

But Chef ignored him, choosing to spend another ten minutes staring at the same pages, an effective enough punishment for being bothered. You would have thrown him an irritated glare had you not been so exhausted from the final trials.

The affogato dessert report was finished after another week of testing. 

You and Seungkwan had spent half of the nights within that week at the restaurant, bouncing ideas off each other, finalising the rest of the toppings, the beverage variations. The two of you must have had fifty hours of sleep combined for the past six days, but it was worth the wait. It was worth the restlessness, the countless drafts of writing and rewriting…it reached a full completion at two in the morning, when you and your partner took one look at each other and knew you had done it.

Bothering Jeonghan at that time would have gotten you both fired, so you resorted to running back home for six-odd hours before trudging back to the restaurant. You saw Seungkwan at the entrance, identical eye-bags to yours, his frown a default feature on his sleep-stricken face. Still, the clear fatigue seemed to clear when he caught sight of you, leaving the door open to let you in. 

It was here now, with you two anxiously waiting, that Jeonghan snapped the file shut, the slap of paper against paper jolting you both alert. “I hope that’s woken you up.” 

The man beside you groaned, his leg ceasing the bouncing. “Jesus,” he could only say, because cursing his boss only fast-tracked him to unemployment (not that Jeonghan would have sacked him—in honesty, he was hoping one of them would call him a dickhead and storm out).

“It did,” you answered, trying your hardest to not knife him with your gaze. “Now are you approving the dessert?” 

He observed the front of the report, jutting out his lower lip. “Well, I am impressed with the details…I don’t think any of you have put this much effort into a dessert report in your entire career.” 

“Don’t say that!” You immediately exclaimed. “My granita dessert report last year was top-notch and you agreed with me!” 

“Yeah, but that was last year, so it doesn't exist anymore.” He waved off your counters, continuing, “Anyway, this report is brilliant. I can see how much effort the two of you have put into this process.”

You nodded along to his comments, locking your hands together. There was no denying it, of course—you and Seungkwan had carved out your hearts and mixed the remnants within the affogato. What was appreciated was Jeonghan witnessing it with his own eyes. 

“Before I officially start advertising the final selection, I do need to ask you one thing.” He set the report to the side, setting his chin upon interlocked fingers. “Now I know how you both felt about working together for this project…obviously I didn’t care about your opinions because of the disruptions, but recently, there’s been a peaceful environment at the station.” 

His eyes darted between his dessert chefs. “Should the opportunity arise…would you work together on specific projects again?”

The dreaded silence was back, but it was not the head chef which instigated it this time. 

It took almost every nerve in your system to restrain the muscles in your body, which would instinctively turn your head towards the man beside you. Biting your lip, glancing down at your hands once more, you thought the question over, echoing slowly in your mind.

If you were asked this question a couple of weeks ago, you would have laughed in Jeonghan’s face. You still remembered the evening in this office, when your boss doomed the two of you with the dessert project. You had not forgotten the snide comments, the back-and-forth bickering, even the fated confrontations—the night with the burnt caramel which had your entire viewpoint spinning on its surface.

What you did not comprehend was the change; the slow shift in every interaction, the anticipation of his family’s interactions, wondering whether his sister had asked for you again. That was the jackpot moment, you thought. At the end of the day, Seungkwan had not changed—you simply bothered to know him.  

And whatever you had learned, you did not despise. 

You chose not to admit any of this to the group. Instead, you remained in your silence, waiting for any of the men to shatter it.

Seungkwan stepped up to the quiet and broke it. “I dreaded doing the project.” You looked at him. He continued, staring at Jeonghan. “It was hard, I’ll be honest…what with our constant fighting and that.” 

It was after a while he spoke again. “However, if you force us together in the next quarter, then…” He turned to you, and you swore there was a glow radiating from his face. “I wouldn’t mind it...being forced together with her again.”

You parted your mouth. You could barely hear Jeonghan’s scoff, humming at the implications. No, you only stared at him, your partner-in-crime, your—your friend? Something different, another term entirely. 

Your mouth ran on its own, disregarding your sense of thought. “I wouldn’t mind it either.” 

This time, you heard the boss’ huff of laughter enough to snap out of your stunned daze, watching him rise from his chair. “Does this mean my customers won’t hear you both arguing over their moonlit dinners?” 

Truly, you wanted to frown at him. “As long as Seungkwan keeps quiet,” you said, glancing at the said-man.

His smile was mischievous when you caught it—you had to look away. “I’m not promising a damn thing.”

You only heard Jeonghan’s laughter then, vanishing only by the closing of his door as he left, approved report in hand. 

Perhaps Seungkwan wanted to say more, but you hurried out of the office under the pretense of opening the restaurant. He chose to play along to your excuses, helping you alongside Mingyu and Junhui for the ingredient prepping, and soon business took over priority, the rush of the customers even in the late morning. 

The bustling environment of the restaurant did not calm until its closing, you cursing the customers for not offering a single break during your long shift. The entire time consisted of egg and sugar whipping, the sounds of caramel cooking, espresso steaming and curt orders thrown around by you and your partner in the station. Because the stress of the dessert menu had faded, though, a great level of pressure had subsided, as if the summer sun had cleared through London’s winter storms. 

Nighttime cloaked Covent Garden, stars scattered across the black sky, twinkling at the thousands upon thousands, in and out of the entrance columns. After seeing the last family off on their merry way, you turned the banner to Closed, sighing after a long day’s work. 

Mingyu and Junhui were already packing, informing you of their plans together, so you let them leave earlier than anticipated. Seungkwan was the sole chef left, save for Jeonghan—though he could have fucked off without anyone’s knowing, for all you knew.

You thought he would have ran straight for his sister’s down south; it was a Friday night, which meant that Sohyun and Sojung were anticipating movie night with their favourite (and only, so you doubted how prized this title really was) uncle. Despite being aware of this, you caught sight of him whipping up the all-too familiar dessert, this time in accordance to the restaurant’s official recipe.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked him, walking over to where he stood next to the counter. “The kids’ll be waiting.” 

“You remembered,” he pointed out, surprised. Pouring the espresso on top, he looked over to you, closing in. “Well, today I get a pass to celebrate our victory.” 

“Victory?” You observed the finished affogato, scrunching your nose. “Not to be that person, but I’ve had enough of these to last me the year.” 

“I know you were gonna say that,” he countered, holding up a finger as he stepped to the side. Lo and behold, there was a large bottle of champagne, a crisp burgundy bow wrapped around the neck. “Which is why I brought a little extra for the occasion.” 

Lighting up at the sight of the alcohol, you grabbed onto the top, studying the label. “Franciacorta. Very tasteful.” 

You set it back, searching for a corkscrew. “You sound shocked by my tastefulness,” you heard him remark, you opening the drawers and finding it amongst the disarray of cutlery. 

“Well, of course,” you said, bringing the utensil to Seungkwan’s side of the counter, waiting for him to add in the cut-up biscotti. “Let’s not forget who the classier one out of us is.” 

He clicked his tongue. “I am not getting into that can of worms.”

“All the better for your rep,” you added, earning a snort from him. 

“Right,” he began, pushing the drink in your direction as he grabbed the bottle. “How about a drink first?”

“That I can agree with,” you said, handing him the corkscrew. 

Seungkwan struck the cork with it, twisting it till he was satisfied. Then, with a little force, he popped open the champagne, fizzing from the bottle’s mouth. “There we go,” he sighed out, grabbing a couple of spare glasses, identical to the dessert’s shape, and filling them to the very tip. “I couldn’t find the proper glasses.”

“And you said you were the classier one,” you quipped, sipping the drink. 

Shaking his head, he drank up, seething as he brought the glass down. “I can’t believe we’re finished, you know.” 

“I don’t think it’s settled yet for me,” you admitted. “It was only a few weeks, but it felt like months.”

“God, I know.” Finishing off the first glass, he poured himself another. “Remember when you wanted to add leaves in the dessert? We’ve come so far.” 

“Now you know I had a whole plan for that,” you defended, shaking a finger at him as you kept drinking. “And you can’t say anything, with your diabetes-inducing sweets.”

“You’re the one who agreed to the affogato.” He twisted his mouth into a smirk. “And that was my idea.” 

You wanted to snarl at him—it had been too long since a bickering broke any semblance of peace, and although you enjoyed the lack of shouting, you swore it was enhancing his overconfidence. 

But you decided to indulge him. You did not know why. “Your idea was so personal to your roots, Seungkwan. I don’t think I could have said no.” 

Even he was stunned. “You couldn’t have said no?” he repeated in question, brows raising.

You only downed the rest of your champagne. “Nope.” 

“Huh.” That was all he could give, swirling his drink. Your insides sung at his reaction, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling. Seungkwan’s smirks, you thought, truly had no substance the way his surprised, one-word responses did.

Another glass down, and you felt the buzz of the alcohol, bubbling through your veins, settling a little too pleasantly in your mind. The lights of the dessert station had been dimmed, too, only the lights of the hob turned on, your surroundings atmospheric. The silences may have been prevalent, but there was no discomfort. The tranquility was…in a way, it was beautiful.

There was more beauty, it seemed, in Seungkwan’s next words. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if it was anyone else, you know.” 

You straightened in your seat. “Oh?”

He nodded, you thinking that was the rest of it. But then he opened his mouth again, spilling out the confession which rested in his heart. “If it was anyone else working with me, they wouldn’t have seen the dessert, why I made it…my sister, her kids, anything like that.” He took a deep breath, about to continue, but then made sure to drink up. “And you suggested it first, which…I really appreciated.”

“Is that why I had never seen your family before?” another sip of the champagne. “Because you hated me that much?”

“I never hated you, _____,” he said, which only had you scoffing. “No, really! Sure, you pissed me off. Did Jinsoul first hear of you cause I bitched about you? Unfortunately, yeah. But!” he countered, raising a finger, “It was never hatred.”

“Well, I can’t say the same,” you mumbled, staring into the end of your glass. He grabbed your attention, filling it to the rim once more. 

His stare did not leave you. “It’s not like that anymore, right?”

You matched his gaze—a smile threatened to take over. “No…not anymore. I got to know you, didn’t I?” 

He could have gasped. 

Boo Seungkwan, for the first time in his life, was speechless. It usually took devastating news to rattle him to his core—a notion so shocking his world slips from underneath him. His pupils almost dilated, gaping at you as if you told him he had won Jeonghan’s restaurant.

And although it was endearing, truly a sight to behold, you had the nerve to raise a brow at him. “Weren’t you the one who said I didn’t?”

He blinked back at the question, realising that he was not in a trance. “That I did.” He cleared his throat, downing another glass. The alcohol was getting to him, he could feel it.  

You decided to leave the champagne for now, the bubbles successful in enhancing your giddiness. Turning to the affogato, you finally gave it some attention, digging in with a spoon. “It’s melted now,” you commented, taking another bite. 

“That’s what happens when you ignore a dessert,” Seungkwan remarked, tutting as he drank.

“Don’t give a girl such good champagne then.” 

“Hmm, or maybe you’re distracted by my company,” he appealed, watching you roll your eyes and chuckling. “Come on. We’re not throwing food at each other anymore, so you can be honest.” 

“Okay,” you said, savouring the espresso and vanilla, in perfect harmony in your mouth. “I guess you’re not the worst person to have a conversation with.” He made to celebrate, face lightening up, but you interjected, “When you’re around your family.”

“Yeah, now you’re just saying shit,” he rebuked, setting the glass down. “I’m a bloody joy to be around!” 

“And which one out of Jinsoul’s kids said that to get a doughnut out of you?”

“None of them!” he first exclaimed, but after two seconds of staring him down, he sighed out, “Sojung got four doughnuts that day.” 

“Exactly.” Another bite, a little messy—you were sure the vanilla cream left remnants on your lips. “I told you, right? I know you now.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he only said, tilting his head on his shoulder. He had drunk enough tonight. He was not usually careless—not that he was, but he did not take his glasses into account. He did, but he was with you tonight, and you were so happy. 

He then noticed the slight gelato lining your lips, and he perked up slightly. “Affogato that good? You left behind a trail.”

“Unfortunately. Where is it?” you asked, trying to wipe it off, but to no avail. “I’m looking stupid, right?”

“The dumbest.” He pointed to his own mouth, but you would not follow. “Wait, one second.” 

He stepped closer, rubbing his hands on his trousers. With a harsh intake of breath, he reached his hand out, and you froze at his touch, brushing against the corner of his lip. His focus did not distract him from your expression, thumb rubbing off the vanilla, cream fading from his every gentle swipe. His finger was soft—softer than you expected, velvety like the ice cream he made for you. 

It was only when he finished, craning his head back just an inch, that he noticed your tensed-up expression—the breath that was caught in your throat. He had parted his mouth, the realisation striking him cold, and all he could do was watch—eyes flickering to your own, darting between one and the other, as if unable to take the full intensity of your stare. 

You caught him peeking shamelessly at your lips, where his thumb remained, a ghost of a touch. Seconds passed, none of you daring to move, and you suddenly had an inkling that he was about to do something. 

Oh God. Was he? You could not tell—he was looking at you in a strange manner, eyes heavy lidded. It must have been the alcohol. You were sure that was the reason for his daze, why his breaths were uneven.

You could not help the whisper escaping, as soft and delicate as a winter snowflake, twirling in a cold breeze. “Seungkwan?” 

The said-man blinked back at your voice—his name on your tongue. 

What you were going to do was close your eyes, brace yourself for the final distance—and then you realised you were bracing yourself for Boo Seungkwan, and the slight panic set in, striking you like a lightning bolt. 

He must have caught it in your eyes, because then his reaction reflected your own, and maybe he made the most idiotic decision in his entire life. Although every muscle in his body demanded he do the opposite, he began to pull away and then you grasped onto your mistake, realising what he was doing, and you cursed yourself for letting him slip away in front of you this very second—this devastating, crucial moment. 

And even though you did not comprehend what in hell you were doing at that moment, you caught his arm, holding onto the white cotton of his work shirt. He gaped at the gesture before setting the shock on you. “What’re you doing?” he rasped out.

“What’re you doing?” was your answer.

It was there, in the dimmed, flickering lights of the hob, that he stared at you, trying the hardest he ever had in the entirety of his life to catch your meaning. Damn him for drinking, damn his lack of restraint, because maybe if he had one less glass of champagne—

The darkening of your irises clocked any confusion in his tipsied judgement. His mouth parted, and you could have sighed with an intoxicated relief.

He knew you after all. 

“Bastard,” you could only say, catching the beginnings of an appeased grin before he leaned in, any semblance of doubt erased as he pressed his lips to yours. 

The first touch of his mouth was indescribable. 

Never did you think you would find yourself in this situation, closing your eyes, a soft hum as he moved against you, finding the rhythm upon your lips. His own were so soft, a shocking twist in the tale—all those hard, condescending quips, but you supposed it should have made perfect sense. Your arguments were bitter, your collaborations tensioned, but there were no remnants of the past in his movements. He was as soft as the gelato you had indulged in, as velvety as the espresso coating his affogato gift. 

Your breaths were caught in your throat, caged by his mouth, which delved deeper as the man’s hands cupped your face. His fingers were warm, shaking as they tilted your head to enhance the kiss. Your senses were alive before, but they were bouncing off the kitchen walls now, darting from the stove to the countertop, out of the doors and into the city as the sheer pleasure took over. 

It was in that moment you realised that Boo Seungkwan was not only a great dessert chef, but an excellent kisser. The way he moved his lips with yours, syncing you along with him, was unfathomable in any other situation. You, following along, even bothering to hear him out, here now, trailing after his movements? You could not help yourself, though, when he was good, he knew this like he knew the affogato—familiar with its recipe, its methods, how to create it, nourishing it to perfection. 

And because every dessert creation needed patience, Seungkwan was slow, careful as his tongue slid against the seam of your lips, trialling, testing. He succeeded in the first attempt, you opening up to him, and the feeling of his tongue slithering along yours had your stomach somersaulting within, unable to contain yourself. You could not contain the soft groans, lodged deep within your throat, and you could have sworn the bastard smiled against you, closing his mouth as he sucked on your tongue. 

This was it. In the Vita di Diamante, under the lights of a luxury restaurant’s dessert-kitchen, your hands crept up his arms, locking behind his neck, and you snuffed out any distance, the countertop edges digging slowly into your side, dutifully ignored. Any sense of discomfort was replaced by the mountain of pleasure, boosted by Seungkwan’s fingers on your face, then your neck, his lips taking yours prisoner, threatening to roam, and his body, pressing against your own, his weight like a welcome cage, engulfing your entire presence. 

This was nothing short of intoxication, a spark of a drug which would spiral into an addiction. You had kissed many others before your supposed rival, this uncertain friend, but you were sure of the ecstasy he offered, given to you in abundance. You had thought him selfish, narcissistic. But was this not compassion, each heated bursts of generosity he planted on the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, slowly trailing downward till he found refuge on the patch of skin, just above your collarbone? Were these not acts of selflessness, the manner in which he teethed his kisses, inciting a moan loud enough to have your entire face alight?

It was that particular noise that made him realise his place, a burst of pride igniting inside him before he noticed the hob lights glistening your face. “We shouldn’t—fuck—” Seungkwan cursed out, breathless, and your stomach fluttered at the mere curse, spewed out countless times before. When did you become so affected—no, rattled by whatever this man did? “W-we shouldn’t do this here.” 

Yet he was peppering you with open-mouthed kisses, and you could have screamed at him for making it so hard to answer him. “Then maybe…” you were rasping out your breaths, mind a complete daze. “Maybe you should stop.” 

Pausing, he dragged his mouth, skimming along to your neck, only pulling away to lock your heavy-lidded eyes with his own. The lust swirling within them was the final, perfect garnish to the dessert of his desire—the same desire which worsened your hunger. “Do you want me to stop?” 

Instinctively, you licked your lips, swiping up the remnants of Seungkwan’s efforts, relishing the residue of the champagne. When he caught the mere action, he hoped with the very marrow of his bones that you did not refuse him. 

When you narrowed his eyes, lips twisting in a sneer, his fervour paused. “Are you fucking stupid?” you spat out, and he gawked at you—only for a second.

But a second was still too long, because you grabbed onto the collars of his shirt, colliding your mouth against his, and he could have sighed with relief. He furrowed his brow as matched your hunger, sliding his tongue back into your mouth, and this time you let the moans free, a symphony to his ears. He was all over you, moreso when his hands now tugged at your sides, pushing you further into the counter. You did not catch onto his intentions until, with one swift swipe of his hands, he lifted you upon the countertop, chasing your lips still, refusing to break away. He pushed between your thighs, caging himself in your presence, and it was embarrassing how quick your body responded, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

Seungkwan was delirious, you were frenzied—Seungkwan was out of his mind, and you were out of your soul, the sounds of your mouths and tongues colliding in a destructive understanding, a heated combination that would have been impossible mere weeks ago. What had happened, how did it all equate to this very situation? Fate always worked in strange ways, but you had to work out how you ended up in this passionate scene—shameless as your whimpers grew louder, his arrogance growing with them, swallowing them with his mouth. 

Maybe you both would have created something grander than any dessert in this station, sweeter than the damned cinnamon Seungkwan campaigned for at every given chance. With the soft moans darkening, breaths rasping out in slight desperation, you would have shown this restaurant a harmony never witnessed in your work. 

But at this precise moment, Yoon fucking Jeonghan sauntered into the kitchens, ready to share some good news to you both when he took one look at your colliding figures.

The sharp, shocked scoff that escaped his coral lips had you and Seungkwan stopping dead in your heated tracks. 

“How many more health and safety regulations are you two gonna violate?”

It was comical, how you both whipped your heads at the slender figure, smirk so conceited and pompous you wondered whether you were bickering at the wrong chef this entire time. “I knew one day you were gonna eat each other’s faces off,” he continued, catching onto every sudden movement of Seungkwan’s fingers tightening at your waist, your arms loosening around his neck. “But did it have to be in my goddamn kitchen?”

“Shut the fuck up,” was the younger’s reasonable response, earning him a huff of laughter from his boss. You could only stare and do nothing, so ashamed of being caught you restrained the urge to hide within the crook of his shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, don’t be angry at me!” Jeonghan waved his hand over to the door beyond the further walls. “Personally, I think the pantry’s a better shout…more privacy, you know?” Close enough in front of you, his grin lop-sided. “Unless, of course, you wanted to give me a show—”

“Please, Jeonghan!” you cried out finally, as, with an aching decision, you pulled away from the man’s arms, the absence duly noted. “God, don’t you have a life outside of this place?”

“Well, if I did, then I wouldn’t have a restaurant,” he countered, smug as his eyes darted between his employees. “And my dear dessert chefs wouldn’t have a love shack to fuck in.”

That horrendous statement had you jumping down from the counter, dusting yourself off as you glowered at your boss, risking termination. “You need to talk to someone other than your accountant.” 

A melodramatic sigh left his lips. “You’re right, which is why I was taking a few other calls. That’s why I came down here, to let you both know that there will be some very important people coming in for the new menu’s christening.” He then raised his hands in surrender. “But then I see you guys have much more important shit to cover!” 

Perhaps telling your boss to get floored under a Northern line tube was cruel, but the threat stayed rooted on your tongue. He could sense it for sure, because he looked at his watch. “Now I have to go soon, which means I want you going home.” He glanced up at the post-makeout scene, another chuckle rising. “So who’s place are you continuing this shit in?” 

“Go away, man!” Seungkwan demanded as you groaned, only left with Jeonghan’s laughter ringing in your ears as he left the scene, bidding an adieu with wiggling brows. 

With the silence falling on you both, the tension, so rampant beforehand, had all but crashed disastrously after the interruption. The complete absurdity of it all brought a sigh out of you, Seungkwan humming in agreement.

“How do we get Jeonghan fired?” was the first question asked in the kitchen—courtesy of your venom.

“You think a bullying allegation would cut it?” the man suggested, but you clicked your tongue. “Nah, you’re right, it’s child’s play in this business. We’d be deemed cowards.” 

“Couldn’t he have come later?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. God, you were tired. The tipsy stupor had morphed into fatigue. 

And although Seungkwan felt the lethargy too, he chose to latch onto your words. “Later, huh? Didn’t want to be disturbed, then?”

You almost rolled your eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.”

But he was back to being a grade-A asshole, so he crowed, “No, please, indulge me…what did you mean?” 

You meant to glare at him, but his eyes were dancing, and you remembered his lips on you all over again. You resorted to silence, clamping your lips together, finding a little comfort in the smile he curled at your quiet response. 

The two of you found yourselves collecting your things, Jeonghan the final man left in the restaurant so there was no concern for locking up. Your paths were shared up until Leicester Square's Station, ten minutes away from the restaurant, where your destination was. 

“You didn’t have to walk me here, you know,” you said, turning to him as you fished for your travel card.

Seungkwan nodded lightly, “I know…I wanted to ask you something, actually.” 

You looked at him, anticipating. There were still crowds, even at this time of night, rushing in and out of the popular station, but you did not notice them, not now. Not when he was gazing at you, an indecipherable emotion flickering in his features. 

He licked his lips, intaking a sharp breath before asking you. “You didn’t…regret it, right?” 

You knew what he meant, of course. Because you were a piece of shit too—only a little—you took a step closer, tilting your head at him. “What do you think?” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t make me answer that,” he said, “Whatever I’ll say you’ll just say the opposite.” 

A chuckle. “Smart man.” 

Which is why you refrained from speaking the opposite—did not say anything at all as you leaned in, holding his face in your hand as you kissed him.

It was an unexpected phenomenon for him—exactly what you hoped to achieve. Still, it was welcomed, as Seungkwan moved his lips against yours, opening his mouth upon you to let a soft moan escape. The rush of London was no more—no tourists with their loud cameras, no locals with their grumblings of said-tourists. It was you and him, and this moment, captured in your lips in harmony with his.

Which is why it was difficult to break away, breathing heavily at the sensation as you watched his eyes flutter open, completely breathless. The sight had your heart constricting. 

“Is that enough of an answer?” you asked him.

The smile he offered you was enough. 

“WHEN ARE WE GONNA MEET SANTA CLAUS?” 

The age-old question. You scanned the constant wave of local and international shoppers, twice the size of the groups you and Julie dealt with weeks ago. “It won’t be too far now, dear,” you reassured the boy, who was frowning the further along you walked. 

“We just have to find the big Christmas tree,” Sohyun explained, looking back as she led the pack. “And we would if we actually hurried up.” 

The eldest within the group let out an overly dramatic sigh, raking his hands through his hair. “The Christmas tree is not going anywhere,” he commented, “I don’t know what this rush is for.” 

“Just because you don’t care about Santa,” Sojung huffed, crossing his arms. “Maybe you’ve become old, Uncle Seungkwan.”

Your laughter could not drown out the scoff that escaped the accused-hag’s lips. “I’m gonna tell on you to Jinsoul.”

But the way the boy only chuckled, blowing mischievous raspberries at his dear uncle, cemented how seriously he took that threat. You watched him catch up to his sister, smiling the entire time. 

Seungkwan caught onto that. “Don’t encourage him.” 

“What?” your smile turned playful. “Scared he’s getting your attitude?”

“Uh, excuse me!” he started, “Firstly, I’d be the happiest man alive if he became like me. This sass is more from his mother.” 

You scoffed. “That was textbook Seungkwan behaviour. You’re just too conceited to realise.” 

“Conceited? Big words today, _____.”

You, however, were terribly unimpressed. “That is a normal, everyday word, Seungkwan. You should probably read a book.” 

“Enough now,” he said, raising a hand, “I’m goofy, not stupid.” Your hesitance in instantly agreeing with him had him gasping. “Oh my God, you think I’m an idiot!” 

“The fact you just clocked this proves my opinion even more,” you restated, shrugging to dig the blow deeper. “Sorry, buddy.” 

“Don’t ‘buddy’ me,” he immediately refuted, and you glanced at him, a slight irritation in his features. “I’ve made out with you enough times to deserve a better term.” 

The too-casual mention of it had you quickly scanning over the children, then glaring at him once you were satisfied by their ignorance. “Why did you say it like that?”

“What?” His earlier complaint had softened, slowly morphing into a smugness which made your lips twist, and—unfortunately—made your heartbeat quicken. “Did we not?”

You thought of the week when you first kissed him at the restaurant—the gentle touch of your lips against his, the remnants of vanilla gelato and victory prevalent on your tongues. Then, your mind caught onto the different webs of your memory, flashes of heated moments after that fateful night, mouths colliding and hands wandering in more appropriate times, in more private places. No nosy flatmate caught you two in your house, and no nosier boss disturbed you in the pantry room (thank you, said-nosier boss). Yes, you would have died if your past self learned of this newfound situation, but the bastard was good, and he knew how to make you breathless—through heated arguments and frenzied kisses. 

So yes, you did make out with him more times than you would like to admit in front of him. But amongst those nights, you found yourself enjoying his company outside of your workplace, and the two people who capitalised the most out of it were his niece and nephew. When they heard that you knew of a Santa who can hand free Cadbury bars out to them in Westfield shopping centre, they jumped at the idea—as if Christmas had arrived much early. 

The Santa they sought was finally seen, when, walking past another wave of shoppers, there she was, in all her stuffed-suited, fake-bearded glory, asking questions you could not hear as she shook their hand, or gently let them sit atop her padded lap. Santa caught sight of you and your group, and she smiled, quickly slipping the child she tended to a chocolate bar and waving them off. 

“Ho, ho, ho, motherfuckers!” was the beautiful greeting Santa offered in her unusually low, forced baritone, and you could not contain the slight crease of your shoulders as the parents nearby whirled their heads at the words. “Oh, damn, forgot other kids were waiting too.”

“I wonder how you got the job,” you mock wondered, which had the girl underneath the costume almost whacking you on the shoulder. Not very Santa-like, thus proving your point. 

Your bickering was cut short when Sohyun and Sojung appeared from behind you, looking at Julie with a growing anticipation. “You’re the Santa giving out free chocolate, right?” the former asked. 

“Ho, ho, ho! Yes, I am, kids!” your friend dug into her brown sack slugged beside her, fishing out the larger, classic flavour of the Cadbury bar, holding it out for the children. “Merry Christmas!” 

As Sohyun thanked her, taking the chocolate, Sojung only glanced at her, confusion staining his little face. “Hey, I thought Santa was a man.”

Julie, taken aback by the statement, fixed her beard, which began to slouch. “Anyone can be Santa!” 

“Yeah, but Santa’s an old man,” Sojung reasoned, crossing his arms. “You sound like you’re in your thirties.” 

“Thirties—” the girl’s usual chirp cut through, but then she coughed, realising she was about to argue with a child. Lowering her voice, she merely held out the Cadbury. “Just take the chocolate, little man.”

Seeing the treat was enough to quench his burning questions on Santa’s gender identity, quickly digging into the sweetness of the chocolate bricks. Julie threw you a look, which had you snickering, sneaking closer to her. 

“That was it?” Seungkwan asked, glancing at the line your friend had evoked. “People’ll do anything for free food—” 

He stopped, realising that Julie was trying to sneak you three Cadbury bars in your bag, and the sight of you feigning any sense of stealth had him clamping his lips together, trying to contain his laughter. 

“Have fun on your babysitting date,” she whispered to you, and you stuck your tongue out at her before turning to the said-date—because yes, this was supposed to be a date, but the children caught wind of their uncle meeting you, and begged him to talk to you. 

“Three?” he inquired, animating the number with his fingers. 

“Inflation’s hit us hard,” was your only excuse, but it was a measly one. Being a dessert chef meant possessing an infinite amount of chocolates in the pantry, ranging from every flavour created in the Italian peninsula. 

He said so himself. “You create desserts for a living. You see chocolate puddings more than your own parents.” 

“You can never have too much,” you sang out, and the children beside you hummed in agreement. “See? The council has spoken.” 

“I can’t disagree then.” Seungkwan turned to the council. “Now, Sohyun, Sojung…where do you guys want to go?” 

“Can we go to the toilet first?” Sojung clutched his stomach. “I think I ate the chocolate too quickly.” 

“I told you to eat it slowly!” Sohyun scolded, clicking her tongue. 

“You think you know the way?” his uncle asked, to which he nodded. “Sohyun, you walk with him. I don’t want you two running off alone, okay?” 

“We’ll be fine,” the girl said, waving off the concern. She clutched her brother’s arm, whose face twisted in pain the more time passed. “Come on, you idiot.” 

“Keep your phones on!” The man called after them as they walked to their destination, which, as the digital maps exposed, was not too far. 

As the children disappeared, you watched, concern rising. “I hope Sojung’s okay.” 

“He’ll be alright.” A roll of his eyes. “Unfortunately, the pigging out on things which’ll make him sick later is a trait he got from me.”

“So all the bad habits he has are from you then?” 

“Only some of them,” he admitted, which had you shaking your head. “Spend enough time with them, and they’ll learn your terrible ways, too.”

“Speak for yourself,” you snarked, “I am a perfect role model.”

“Role model, huh?” He took a step closer—as if he was not close already—and roamed his eyes over you, over a particular item of clothing. “Perfect role models don’t steal from their dates.” 

Your hands instinctively clutched the scarf—the red scarf which you had not returned since he engulfed you with its warmth weeks back. “It’s not stealing,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. “You’re the one who pretended to be a gentleman and gave it to me.”

“Okay then, I’ll give up the pretence.” Another step closer—a foot’s distance from you. “I’d like my scarf back.”

Realistically, you would have handed his precious scarf back without a fight. After all, it was his possession.

But today was cold, and the scarf was snug—warm. As welcoming as it had been when your head was wrapped around it. “It suits me more, though, don’t you think?” you taunted, fingers holding both ends of the fabric, the long, fringes dangling. “I rock it better, you have to admit.”

The man stared at you, taking in the words, washing over him. His hands reached out, snaking around your waist, and you had to calm your heart from beating out of your chest as he pulled you closer. 

If this was the beginning of the winter, he would have chosen cruel words, shatter the fantasy he thought was forming in front of his eyes. This was not a fantasy, though, far from it—you, who had been a thorn at his side since the moment he stepped into the restaurant, had blossomed into a flower, flourishing before him in a newfound light. 

He played along—not because it was not true, but because he believed the words that left his lips. “You do everything better than me.”

A sharp breath escaped you.

Never did you think a confession like that would ever come from Seungkwan. 

His pride was his great strength, but also a formidable weakness. It was his self-confidence, his arrogance, even, that contributed to his successes, and—most importantly—his long-lasting rivalry with you. His belief in his perfection, his being the best out of all, was what made him who he was. 

You guessed that he did not believe in it. Not anymore. 

Still, you did not accept it. “A very touching statement,” you began, sliding your arms around him, “But I’ll do you one better.” 

He shook his head. “God forbid you agree with me.”

You tilted your head back, gazing at him fully. “We’re equals, Seungkwan.”

He stared at you, widening his eyes as you continued. “Equal partners in our work, equal chefs in our creations…what I do, you do the same. It’s why we argued, and never won. One could not defeat the other…no matter how much we tried. Maybe we were meant to stay in this stalemate, you know?” 

You smiled at him—your partner in the kitchen, your partner-in-crime. “It’s our losses in the restaurant, I believe, that brought us together in the end…and that, for me at least, is a win.” 

Seungkwan felt his very nerves spark to life. 

Come alive with a veracity akin to a rocket ship blasting fire from its ends, firing off to the universe beyond. He had experienced appreciation, passion, perhaps even tenderness—what you said to him in a shopping mall in a corner of London was extraordinary.

He tightened his grip at your sides, his expression starry-eyed. “You really think that?” 

You melted into his hold, sneaking closer. “If I didn’t think it, Seungkwan, I wouldn’t say it.” 

His heart ballooned in his chest, threatening to burst at the seams of his skin. He could not help himself, leaning in to press his lips against yours, and you welcomed him with open arms, closing in around him. You were unable to stop, curling your lips upwards at the sensation because happiness swirled in your stomach, fluttering uncontrollably, moreso because it was Boo Seungkwan who caused it—Boo Seungkwan, who was the catalyst to your butterflies. 

Before he could go further, you remembered where you were, breaking away from his lips. His sudden murmur from the pull-away had you giggling, cheeks tinged rosy from the confession. 

Your laughter, like little wind chimes singing in a spring breeze, had him speaking from the heart. “I couldn’t do this job with anyone else, you know…working together, what’s come out of it…” His stare had your heartbeat uneasy. “You’re the only one I trust.” 

Although your face warmed at the words, you grinned cheekily at him. “Of course you would. Who else would you rely on? Jeonghan?” 

“...a very fair point.” 

Chucking, his hold on you strayed, one hand remaining. “Now, ______,” he began, sliding his hand over to your own, interlocking his fingers. “After the kids come back, where do you wanna eat? I’m starving.”

“I’m down for anything,” you said, tapping your fingers against the back of his hand. “But if I have to eat another Italian dessert for the next week I’m causing a massacre in the restaurant.”

“So the usual tiramisu with whipped cream on the side, then?” he offered, which had you squeezing his hand. “What? I’m not ungrateful like you. I like to eat anything.” 

“Says the one who said he’d shrivel and die if he had to eat almond amarettis for the second time.” 

“That’s different!” he tried to explain, “I nearly choked on one doing the trialling.” 

You swung your intertwined hands. “All I hear is weak-ass excuses, Seungkwan!” 

“At least I’m not advocating on adding grass to my pannacottas,” he muttered, starting to walk forwards.

You halted him, furrowing your eyebrows. “For the last time, they’re bay leaves!” 

“Yeah, which shouldn’t be on my desserts!” 

“Okay, don’t add them to your shitty sweets, then,” you crowed, “Cause I’m suffocating my pannacottas in them.”

His eyes began to glimmer, and you realised that he successfully baited you into irritation. “Maybe I spoke too soon on trusting you with my life in the kitchen,” he teased, but you groaned, prying your hand from his. “Hey, hey, okay, maybe bay leaves aren’t the worst garnish known to man!” 

“And maybe I’m going back to counting and laughing at your losses,” you snapped, but Seungkwan was laughing, and your cheeks were burning. “One more laugh out of that big mouth of yours, and I’m throwing mascarpone cream at you. Maybe this time we’ll finally be fired.” 

He stopped in your tracks, making you pause your stomping away. “I’d like to see you try,” he dared, and when you looked back at him, the challenge rising in your gaze, he felt his soul come alive. 

You knew it too. “Don’t tempt me, Seungkwan. I’ll win this time.”

And as he leaned in, crossing his arms and staring you down, you held your ground, providing no room to give in. His proud smirk had you remembering the old days—and not grimacing. “Famous last words.”

A scoff was the rest of the conversation, but the showdown of your eyes, locked with his, was not over.

Yes, you both may have grown a mutual respect, even developed a fondness—but you were you and Seungkwan was Seungkwan. Perhaps battling it out with a man you rather liked would consequently make shouting at him a little easier.

As you mirrored his arrogant expression, the two of you knew that the kitchen had yet to see more battles. 

Well—there was always the spring menu. Let the petty rivalry (laced with just a slight touch of affection) begin once more. 

[jellyfishthingblog]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ NSFW Alphabet: Silco 𖥨᩠ׄ݁

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog, so if you're a minor please click off! If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point, you are more than welcome to click off too!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Depends on who they are. If it's after hate fucking, he doesn't care too much apart from maybe making sure they aren't hurt too bad. If it's a good lover, he will make them comfortable, maybe bring you some water at the minimum.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man is a thigh man, if you got chub, he's into that too. Argue with the wall. He doesn't have a favourite part of himself, but will agree with whatever his partner likes about him most.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Colour is #ECDBDD, thick and definitely not small loads, but not exactly big loads either.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Deffo has thoughts about fucking his partner out in the bar with people around.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Have you seen him when he was younger? He seemed like he would have a lot. But no, he doesn't. He maybe had up to five, but wasn't into it as he was busy with Zaun and mining.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He wants to see their face. Mating press probably.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious, but will tease here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Somewhat trimmed at the minimum, and of course the colour is the same as his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Tease. Although, he does reassure them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't do it often, doesn't feel the need to. But if he's really desperate, he smells his partners clothes if he doesn't have a picture of them somewhere.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Scent. Perhaps praise too, both giving and receiving.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The bedroom. Second favourite is his office.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Seeing his partner walk around at his base in little clothing, mostly just a robe or anything that shows their thighs.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Being degraded (I just don't see him enjoying it).

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He doesn't mind receiving, he prefers giving. And, god, is he good at it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Not rough, but somewhat fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Hates quickies unless the partner needs it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He wouldn't mind a little voyeurism. He's mostly vanilla, but if it's not too extreme, willing to experiment.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last about 4-7 rounds, depending on the day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't want to use toys on himself, but would use a vibrator on his partner.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A lot.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Grunts if topping, small whimpers if bottoming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has accidentally thought about overstimulating both himself and his partner at the same time. He can't seem to take his mind off of it.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Length is 5.2in/13.2cm soft, 5.5in/13.9cm hard, uncut, slight curve upwards, two visible veins on the underside. Length is #D8AB8C, tip is #D88C96.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not too high, he's an old man after all. Probably struggles a little bit trying to keep up with a younger person.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn't. Makes sure his partners all good before doing anything else.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Just a quick disclaimer, these are my headcanons, you do not have to agree with me.

[k1mbe3rly]

If you didnt yet can you do wlw sae byeok alphabet please?

yess and also for @cassidyysblog requested as well but i deleted forgetting to take a ss of it💔

Sae byeok NSFW alphabet

⚠️strap on for girls but mainly for girls since she looks wuh luh wuh typeee⚠️

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

So angelic with you, getting you food and water and even washing you up and cleaning everything else

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Her favorite body part about you are your hands, she likes to hold the. and even play with your fingers when she’s bored, she also loves the hold your hand when she’s fucking you

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

She likes to swallow your cum a lot, sometimes she doesn’t fuck you for a week just to make you cum a lot more

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Her dirty secret is wanting to record yall and maybe even start an OF (only fans)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

she’s a little experienced she doesn’t have sex much but over all she does know what she’s doing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

she likes missionary because she likes staring down at you as she fucks you seeing every little expression

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

NEVER goofing off, you will never catch her laughing or making a joke, the only time she laughs is when she’s teasing and edging you

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

she really don’t give a fuck about shaving, but she obviously shaves every now and than for you

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

very into the moment, very focused

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

no comment but she barely masturbates, when i mean barely i mean almost never

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

not much just praising and degrading yk the basics

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

anywhere in the house

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

dirty talk

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything hardcore like wax play or fire play or anything to hurt you

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

she likes to give a lot and mainly focus on you but doesn’t mind if you want to focus on her for that session

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

oo hunni.. bed shaking, bed breaking, headboard breaking, toes curling. i’m saying she’ll go ROUGH ROUGH but obviously goes gentle when you need it

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

she’s down for a quick eat out or a finger fucking quickie

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

not that really risky but if in public she’ll go for it if she really wants too

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

she can last MANY rounds and cums in about 30? minutes maybe longer

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

vibrator and strap on

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

she likes to tease every now and than

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

low moans, groans and pants

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

probably makes you finger yourself infront of her

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

the strap is 7 inches she has a longer one but thinks you aren’t ready for it

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

low, she’s not the type to have sex a lot unless you want it which you mainly do often but she doesn’t mind

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

maybe when she’s done taking care of you a quick nap or just waits till the night

[miley1442111]

transfer- s.reid

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a/n: intended for fem reader, but as always imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: how your sudden transfer forces certain feelings to the surface

pairing: spencer reid x bau! reader

warnings: none

______________________________________________________________

“It’s an executive decision Y/n, they are not asking,” Hotch sighed and you felt bile rise in your throat as the team stared in horror. You were being transferred to the Pentagon. “I know this will be an emotional time for all of us-”

“It’s not emotional, it’s a horrible idea,” Spencer said, his voice calm despite the storm raging in his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see you everyday? Bullshit. “She’s a crucial member of this team-”

“Spencer, they aren’t asking. Strauss expects her to be back in DC within the next hour,” he explained and exited the room. Everyone fell silent and Spencer raised his eyes to meet yours. You looked terrified and angry, he hadn’t seen you this angry ever.  

Not only were you one of the most vital members of the team, you were the thing that made all this shit just that small bit easier to deal with. What would he do now without your teasing jokes? How would he even want to go to work when he knew he wouldn’t see your tired smiles in the mornings? When would he remember to rest if you weren’t reminding him? 

And how would he be able to tell you he was in love with you when he didn’t see you everyday?

“I-I’ll… I’ll go get my bag,” You sighed, accepting your fate and leaving the room, Spencer trailing behind you. 

“Y/n!” He called after you. “Wait, I-I’ll come with you to grab your things,” He internally kicked himself for not thinking of something better to say. When he caught up with you outside the building, he could see the tears falling from your eyes, even in the darkness of the night. 

“I don’t want to leave,” You sniffled. “I told them I didn’t want a new position, I told them that I was h-happy here, that I want to be h-here.”

Spencer took you in his arms, letting you cry into the side of his neck. Had the circumstances been different, he would’ve over thought about the fact that you were so close to him. So close that he could smell your hair, so close that he could feel your soft skin on his, so close that he was very much enjoying the way you clung to him. 

“I mean… I don’t have any say? T-there’s so much more I wanted to do… I- I had this whole plan-”

“It’s ok,” he soothed. “You’ll do great things at the pentagon-”

“Fuck the pentagon!” You exclaimed, pushing him off of you. “I wanted to… I wanted to tell you for so long, a-and then the moment never seemed right, a-and I just assumed I-I’d lost m-my chance and I’m was sure you were already s-seeing someone so it didn’t even matter but then we g-got even closer a-and-”

Spencer’s heart was beating out of his chest, were you trying to say what he thought you were? “What are you trying to say?!” He shouted over your rambling, stopping the pacing you were doing in front of him. 

“I’m in love with you!” You shouted back. Spencer stood there, stunned, as you anxiously waited for an answer. You got one in the form of the grin on Spencer’s face. One of his hands reached out and grabbed your waist, while the other cupped your cheek, pulling you in to kiss him. His lips against yours were electric. You were relieved that he felt the same way and you were ecstatic that he kissed you.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispered against your lips, pulling away. Your hands rooted themselves in his hair as he kissed you again, only pulling away when the rest of the team cheered from the door. 

You two were met with congratulations and cheers, happy that the two of you had finally told each other how you felt. 

You walked onto the airstrip, Spencer’s hand in yours, not even scared for your new role. 

You had Spencer, what else did you need?

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, obx+)

[yourimagines]

What he likes about you fluff

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: Fluff

A = Admiration, what he absolutely adore about you: That you love his family, you love his mom and his mom loves you. Your also very gentle and quiet just like him

B = Body, what is his favorite part of your body: He loves your legs, they way you wrapped them around him when you cuddle him, he loves to lay his hands on them, just touching your warm skin.

C = Cuddling, how he likes to cuddle: He likes to be the big spoon but he loves it when you just cuddle him when he's sitting on the sofa or on his chair behind his computer.

D = Dates, what his ideal date with you would look like: Staying at home, playing video games together.

E = Emotions, how he express his emotions around you: He doesn't, he mostly keep them to himself, sometimes they slip up and you just hold him, telling him it okay.

F = Family, does he want one? If he does, when: Yes, he loves to start a family with you, he loves to have children with you and getting a dog or cat.

G = Gifts, how he feels about gift giving? What is his habit when it comes to this: He gives spoils you silently, you come home and there are flowers in a vase or some new shoes you love.

H = Holding Hands, when/how he likes to hold hands: He hold your hands when he's anxious, squeezing your hands a little bit, checking that your still here with him.

I = Injury, how he would act if you got hurt: He will get anxious, pacing around and calling his mom for support. He hates it tho.

J = Jokes, does he likes to joke around with or prank you and how: He likes to joke around, he likes to play around when you guys are playing some video games, distracting you.

K = Kisses, how he likes to kiss you: Soft but deeply on your lips. He also places a lot of kisses on the top of your head an hands.

L = Love, how he shows you he loves you: He remembers the small things you like or do, he sees everything and makes sure your always okay. He also makes sure his mom will cook some food for you because he knows you love her food.

M = Memory, favorite memory together: Having a game night for the first time together. The laughs and the fun that night was the best you guys ever had. Playing around and just being yourself with him.

N = Nightmare, what is his worst fear: Leaving him, losing you, you being hurt, hating him. just everything, he hates his anxiety.

O = Oddity, what is one quirk he haves: He's secretly a nerd in video games, he has a steam deck and he always carries it with him.

P = Pet Names, what he likes to call you: Darling and babe.

Q = Quality Time, how he likes to spend time with you: At home, playing video games or just go our for a walk close by.

R = Rhythm, what song reminds you of him: Tortoise by Frankie Stew and Harvey Gunn. When you hear this song, your mind wanders off to him. You need him and he needs you, you miss him when your not with him and life is not the same without him.

S = Secrets, how open is he with you: He tries to be open with you but sometimes his anxiety is in his way, he wants a good communication but needs some help sometimes as he cover up his emotions a lot.

T = Time, how long did it take you to get together: It took awhile, he thought you didn't liked him till a friend of him told him otherwise, he asked you out by text message and asked you later if you wanted to be his.

U = Upset, how does he acts when you’re upset: He thinks it's because of him, he freaks out and gets upset as well, when he knows it not him he stays quiet, thinking how he can fix it.

V = Vaunt, what is he proud of, Does he likes to show you off: He's proud that you like his family, that you like to game with him and that you support him

W = Warrior, how would he feel about you fighting? Would he fight for you: He wouldn't like it but would support you, he would defend you

X = X-Ray, how well can he read you: He knows when sometime up, he knows everything as he sees everything.

Y = Yes, how would he propose to you: Some where private but anywhere what you like and say yes to him

Z = Zen, what makes him feel calm: Knowing you there, holding your hands, listing to music and playing video games. he also calms down when he's alone.

[l0lita-luv]

Billie Eilish SFW Headcannons

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Fluff + Angst

warnings- reader is specified as fem-no use of y/n

a/n- Listen to Faye Webster while reading :)

divider creds to @aqualogia

A= Affection (How do they show affection, how often do they do it?)

I feel like Billie likes to show affection with gifts and the type to love verbally express herself! Will always buy you things, you look at something for ten seconds? Will but it immediately, always gives you words of affirmation more than once a day!

B= Best friend (How are they like as a best friend?)

Is an amazing friend? Will always be there to comfort you and you guys always have the best sleepovers. But she gets a lil flustered because she has a little crush on you!!

C= Cuddles (Do they like cuddles? How do they cuddle?)

Loves cuddling! You guys always cuddle while on the couch, while sleeping, really anywhere comfortable! You too always facing each other with your legs tangled together!

D= Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How good are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think she would want to settle down with you! Maybe after some months she will start settling down. Believe it or not but I did Billie can cook! She loves to make you food and is quite good at cleaning!

E= Ending (How are they like after a breakup?)

She’s a wreck! Will try her best to get you off her mind but everything reminds her of you :(. She still kept pictures of you two on her wall and stared at them whenever she would try sleeping. You felt the exact same thing and you guys got back together don’t worry :)!

F- Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I think after a year or more she would think about proposing! She really values the time the two of you have and doesn’t really rush anything. But if she does propose she want to make sure the wedding is perfect so maybe a year or more after she proposes!

G= Gentle (How gentle are they? Physically and emotionally?)

SUPER GENTLE!! Literally is so sweet, even if she barely even touches you she will think she hit you and immediately start apologizing and taking care of you as if your bleeding! She’s also really gently emotionally too, she loves to affirm you that she cares about you and all of the fluffy stuff :).

H= Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do you do it? How does it feel like?)

I feel like she prefers cuddling but don’t get me wrong she likes hugs too! Hugs are given not very often but you do hug each other whenever you see each other! Hugs are super soft with Billie and will have her hands on your waist through the whole thing.

I= I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She said I love you in the first 6 months into the relationship and she doesn’t regret it because you both actually said it at the same time (that’s actually really sweet stop)

J= Jealousy (How Jealous do they get? How do they get Jealous?)

She can get pretty jealous easily, I think she would get jealous if you give someone more attention than her or if someone is clearly flirting with you.

K= Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses are amazing with Billie! She usually kisses you everywhere but usually on your lips! I feel like she would like to be kissed on her cheek and lips!

L= Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’s pretty good with kids but sometimes panics and doesn’t know what to do! But if you have a younger sibling I think they would get a long well!

M= Morning (How are mornings spent with them?

She usually sleeps really late because she’s super busy with work a lot of the time so you always make sure to make her breakfast! She really appreciates it and always remind you that she does.

N= Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You know usually have to assure her that she doesn’t have to work so much and to come to bed! She usually folds and you two watch an episode of the series you two are watching together!

O= Open (When will they start revealing things about themselves? Do they reveal everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

I feel like she will start opening up in the best friend stage! I think she just has a really strong bond with you so she trusts you will a lot of things, but if she does open up to you while you guys are friends I think she will reveal little things slowly, but when you two start dating I think she will reveal a lot of things all at once.

P= Patience (How easily are they angered?)

I think she does have some patience, she really tries to keep calm if you guys ever argue and it always does work out! She doesn’t really confront you with anger if she just has assumptions.

Q= Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Would they remember every little detail or minor things?)

She will try her best to remember everything! She usually remembers every detail and her calendar is filled with anniversary dates such as when you both said I love you for the first time.

R= Remember (What is their favorite memory with you?)

Her favorite memory is your first date together! She laughs back at it because you both were such nervous stuttering wrecks. She still teases you about the corny things you said that day and it’s embarrassing because you weren’t the only one.

S= Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

She’s super protective when your not around friends or family, if your at the club or somewhere where you don’t know anyone she has eyes in the back of her head! Will suspect that everyone in the room has bad intentions. But when your around friends she loosens up because she trusts them!

T= Try (How much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, and everyday tasks?)

She puts a bunch of effort into dates! Will always take you to your favorite restaurants but if you two want to stay in she will order your favorite takeout and will put on your favorite movie! She remembers dates really well, she always surprises you with something on your anniversary and you do the same. She overall puts a lot of effort into the relationship!

U= Ugly (What’s a bad habit of theirs?)

I don’t think she has really any bad habits but maybe her working a bunch even when she doesn’t have too!

V= Vanity (How concerned are they about their looks?)

She isn’t really that concerned about her looks when it comes to you, but when you two go out she sometimes is.

W= Whole (Do they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes! Once when you went out of state to visit your family for a week, she kept on calling you, and texting you about almost everything she had done that day! When you came back she could not stop smothering you with love!

X= Xtra (Random Head-canon for them)

I have a feeling that she absolutely loves you wearing skirts and really girly things in general, she likes how different it looks from hers and in general really likes it. But do not fret my masc girlies she really likes the style too! She thinks it’s cool having the same sense of fashion and being able to share things.

Y= Yuck (Something they wouldn’t like)

She would HATE it when you doubt yourself! She sometimes takes it badly since she always assures you all the time!

Z= Zzz (What are some of their sleeping habits?)

As I have mentioned throughout the head-canons, she sleeps really late sometimes! But she loves to cuddle you and prefers for you guys to face each other but sometimes she likes to spoon you!

[reanimatedshark]

A = Aftercare

he definitely cleans you up real good and makes sure you feel special (bathes you and showers you in kisses- praises you the whole time making his gratefulness known)

B = Body part

he loves your waist and butt (grabs at them any chance he gets before during and after)

C = Cum

he loves shooting ropes all over you. he sees it as marking his territory and such (loves leaving little stains on your underwear)

D = Dirty secret

he isnt always faithful but that doesnt mean he wont blow loads just thinking about you and only you

E = Experience

hes very experienced. knows exactly how to get you screaming his name and cumming over and over.

F = Favorite position

against a wall or shoulder holder (missionary with legs up on shoulders)

G = Goofy

really depends on the scenerio. at home hes usually quite focused and serious. in more public areas he may crack a few jokes relating to the setting.

H = Hair

hes well groomed downstairs but occasionally he'll leave a little bush just keep things from looking "boring"

I = Intimacy

he cares almost entirely about his partner's enjoyment and focuses strictly on them and only them. peppering his partner in kisses and making sure they know how much theyre valued.

J = Jack off

back to letter D, he can't get you off his mind sometimes and will jerk off out of desperation. he'll do it anywhere deemed fit (public bathroom, bedroom, couch, hell even friends bedroom)

K = Kink

loves any form of postponed orgasms whether it being squeezing his tip to keep him from cumming or completely restricting all physical touch that could push him over the edge

L = Location

anywhere. hes willing to get nasty basically anywhere (shower, public, living room, kitchen counter, etc)

M = Motivation

any sort of affection (occasionally even just acknowledgement) compliments drive him crazy

N = No

pain play. atleast not on you. he cant bare the thought of ever inflicting pain on you in any way. he needs you to feel special.

O = Oral

giving (both f and m)- hes sloppy but skillful. makes sure hes getting every spot that drives you wild even if it gets a little messy both literally and figuratively. makes little moans of enthusiasm

recieving- cant help but get vocal no matter what your pace and skill is. he loves feeling your mouth on him. probably one of his favorite things you can do for him

P = Pace

he usually takes his time to make sure youre getting the most out of it. though he'll sometimes get rough and fast if he feels its needed.

Q = Quickies

quickies arent exactly his speciality unless hes recieving (even then he worries too much about your enjoyment). hes always down to have one though.

R = Risk

oh he loves risky sessions. if it means fucking in a public restroom, on set, or in the back of a cab, hes always happy with it. the thrill drives him insane.

S = Stamina

he can go a good couple rounds before running out of juice. that doesnt mean he wont gladly help you through a few more rounds.

T = Toys

hes neutral about toys. he really enjoys doing things all natural but if his partner wants to use toys hes all for it. hes fine with toys used on him or his partner as long as its their choice

U = Unfair

he loves teasing you before the session but rarely really teases during. cares too much about making you feel like a princess.

V = Volume

hes quite vocal. grunting usually but tends to drift into moans as the session goes on. he is not afraid to make his enjoyment known.

W = Wild card

absolutely loves leaving little marks on your hips and ass. he also gets a kick out of hickeys all over him. he wants to marked as yours.

X = X-ray

average length. a bit on the thicker side. not an excessive amount of veins just enough to add a good texture.

Y = Yearning

sex drive can be sky high sometimes. though he can go without sex for as long as needed to. he does jerk off often to keep himself from going bonkers though.

Z = Zzz

lazy fucks can end with immediate pass out but if he has energy to clean you up he'll fall asleep once you do. (if you do that is)

[neragufetta]

That is a code, your honor

I stayed away from Link Click in order to avoid any spoiler, to the point I only discovered today that episode 1 of the Yingdu chapter was released last friday.

There is a long frame by frame rewatch already waiting for me but, at this moment, I only want to focus on this frame in the opening:

I don't know if anyone has already done it but I've cracked the code and I wish to share it with you.

Yes, that is a proper code and is fully decipherable, if you want to solve it yourself I'll share some hints on how to do it, otherwise you can just skip to the actual message section down below.

Have fun!

HOW TO DECIPHER THE CODE, step by step

The message is in English, lucky for us non-Chinese viewers;

2. the code uses a substitution cipher, which means every symbol corresponds to a specific letter and that letter only.

With these two clues alone I think you can already approach the message, but if you wish for more hints, here they are:

3. I could think of two different ways to decipher the code, one takes longer but it requires only one cipher; the other one is easier but there is a twist to keep in mind.

4. The longer method consists of classical substitution cipher solving approach: symbols, or set of symbols, that occurs more often in the message can be correlated with letters (E, T, ...) or words (THE, AND, ...) that occurs more often in the english language.

5. The easier way is to recognise that the symbols belong to a well known cipher: the pigpin cipher! You can google it, see the pic below

or just check my solution:

-XLI LIEVX SJ XLI JSVIWX E WYHHIr- -MG WTVIEH EQSRK XLI ERMQEPW JSB- -VIGXMRK IPITLERX XS HSYWY XLI JPEQI- -MJXPC WTVIEHMRK QIWWEKIW SJ YVK- -SAIZIV SRPC GEVIH EFSYX JPIIMRK- -XLI JSVIWX WYGGYQFIH XS XLI JMVIW-

HIXIVQMRIH XS TVIZIRX WYGL XVEKIH- LMVIH E HIXIGXMZI XS YRGSZIV XLI- HMWGSZIVIH AEW FICSRH XLIMV AM- MQEKMREXMSRW

LI FIPMIZIH XLEX XLI OIC XS- XS IPMQMREXI EPP TSXIRXMEP- MKRMXI XVSYFPI

Wait what?! That is not a solution! True, and that is the twist: pigpen alone doesn't solve the code, you need one more step, another substitution cipher.

6. This is a Caesar Cipher with key 4!

from: E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D

to --: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

THE ACTUAL MESSAGE

-(t)he heart of the forest a sudde(n)- -ic spread among the animals fox- -recting elephant to dousu the flame- -iftly spreading messages of urg- -(h)owever only cared about fleeing- -the forest succumbed to the fires

Determined to prevent such traged(y)- hired a detective to uncover the- discovered was beyond their wi- imaginations

He believed that the key to- to eliminate all potential- ignite trouble

THE BLABBERING

Already many interesting things everywhere!

This message implies the existence of 5+ people: the writer of the message; the target of the message; the hired detective; the "He" mentioned in the third paragraph; the "all potential" trouble igniters (at least 2, I'd say) that should be eliminated. The blond woman seems to be the target, since the message is under her cup of tea; Liu Xiao could be the detective but I bet he is the "He"; the trouble igniters are definitely Lu Guang, Cheng Xiaoshi and the whole gang. The other two characters are way less obvious, we can only assume their identity based on which one is missing; I can only speculate that Vein could be the detective, but he could also be your basic assassin; Finally, Xia Fei could be the writer of the message, if we accept the idea that he and the woman might be somehow blood related.

Then, we have the proper content of the message: a burning forest is mentioned and we know from S2 that a forest appears in Lu Guang's memory of CXS dying (and in the opening as well). Why so much emphasys is placed on the forest?

The next sentence "determined to prevent such traged(y)" might be the most revealing: what is the tragedy? The forest on fire or something else? If it's the former, how can the fire be prevented it it has already happened? Either, they dive back in the past and change it, which we know is no-go option, or the forest on fire was a vision from the future and there is someone (Liu Xiao?) with the ability to either foresee or actually dive in the future, completing the past, present and future pattern.

And this is all coming from just one frame. One Frame.

Welcome back to the delightfully hellish Link Click.

Edit: Guys, I'm so silly, a few second later the cup is removed and the code becomes visible almost entirely...a part 2 is required.

[gummyfang]

♡♡♡ |   ˗ˏˋ TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT  ´ˎ˗

➳　【 S i m o n　‘G h o s t’　R i l e y　ｘ　Ｒｅａｄｅｒ 】

❧ Warnings: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰, 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛 / 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤

[ 𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 ]

[ REQUEST BY ANON ] On my knees and requesting respectfully a jealous Ghost fic cos I just wanna be manhandled by that giant behemoth of a man. Just throw me against the wall and break my back daddy 💦😭 

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: sneef sneef i actually interp him as a v soft dom or sub but i cant say im not a rough ghost enjoyer on occasion. also this is not a canon-compliant fic don’t come at me im just here for a good time. ft keegan bc i wanted to add him. this kinda sucks lol.

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ♡

It wasn’t like you ever purposely set out to make Simon envious of the men you spoke with.

It was just that, as you’d learned, your Lieutenant was a lot more prone to envy than anyone could have predicted.

When the two of you had spent your first night together and officially gotten together, you and Simon had made the mutual decision to keep your relationship on the down low. Considering Simon was technically your superior at work, you two didn’t want to get into problems with your jobs due to a lack of professionalism. 

That, and Simon was not a man who enjoyed attracting much social attention to himself anyways. He loathed the potential buzz that a new relationship on base would spark, and decided it would be better to announce somewhere later along the line.

This, however, came with one very obvious problem.

You were attractive.

Your good looks were not the issue by themselves. Simon could not deny he reveled in how handsome you were when you gave him one of your loving stares, and how pretty you looked beneath him when he fucked you stupid.

No, the problem was that your attractiveness did not go unnoticed to other men either.

All Simon could do was let the simmering sting of jealousy stew in his chest as he watched you talk to Keegan. You seemed to be blissfully unaware of the ways in which Keegan’s gaze lurked over your form, like a dog salivating at the sight of a steak. But Simon noticed. He sure as fucking hell noticed.

“Good job during training today. Your form is getting better.” 

The flirtatious undertone of the compliment clearly went over your head, as you just chuckled and thanked him. Simon’s grip on his own crossed arms hardened considerably, earning him some nervous looks.

He was leering at the two of you with a thunderous gaze, the atmosphere practically rumbling with tension. It was starting to become apparent how much this bothered him, some of the soldiers sitting near him sharing concerned but equally confused glances. 

If Simon was being honest with himself, he’d probably realize Keegan’s attraction wasn’t as predatory as he was making it out to be in his mind. You’d been friends with the man for months, and you’d been getting along with him very well long before you entered your relationship with Simon.

But the Lieutenant was not being honest with himself, and he couldn’t give less of a damn whether Keegan wanted to propose to you with flowers or just herd you into his bed. His attraction to you was clear as fucking day, and there was nothing Simon could do to stop it without drawing attention to your relationship status.

Lieutenant Ghost was a man of terrifyingly strong control.

And yet, he felt all that control slip from his iron grasp as he watched Keegan extend his hand as he laughed, his fingers intently tracing over your hip.

With that, his patience snapped like a tightly-strung rope. He rose to his feet with an aura so threatening it would make any hostile think twice before approaching him.

Keegan’s steel gaze turned icy as it moved from you to the Lieutenant’s hulking figure behind you. The corners of your mouth dropped slightly as you noticed the abrupt change in Keegan’s demeanor, before feeling the cold zipper of an open jacket brush against your neck. You turned around, faced with your boyfriend’s chest that was practically in your face right now.

“You are needed in my office.”

For a moment, you thought Ghost was talking to Keegan. It was only because he placed his hand firmly on your shoulder that you knew he was talking to you. The two men were locked in what appeared to be a staring match. You swallowed thickly as the tense, uncomfortable atmosphere became more noticeable to you, prickling at your skin.

Finally, it was Keegan who relented, his gaze moving down. “See you later then.” he said, voice devoid of the playful edge it was filled with earlier. He gave you and Ghost one last wary glance, before heading off to a group of people in the corner.

You watched him leave, slightly baffled, before feeling Simon’s iron grip pull you away.

You eyed him with confusion and slight annoyance. Simon, on the other hand, was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at you as he pushed you along. You had never seen him act like this.

“What’s all this about?!” you hissed in a hushed tone. “We’re being stared at!”

You didn’t receive a response. Whatever he had on his mind, he was too focused on it to pay you any mind right now.

Things became even more confusing when he headed straight past the door to his shared office, your brow furrowing even deeper now. “Lieutenant?” you tried, a hint of concern laced in your voice. 

Suddenly, the grip on your shoulder moved down to grasp at your wrist instead, large hands clamping down around your flesh. It didn’t hurt, Simon always had the wits not to hurt you, but his grip was still unrelentingly tight. With his other hand, he unlocked the door to his private room, dragging you in with him. 

Before you could question him any further, he’d ripped off his mask and hungrily sunken his lips against yours.

Your hands froze at your sides, too shocked to respond as his tongue aggressively pushed at your lips. Sighing out a quiet moan, you opened your mouth, met with the overwhelming feeling of Simon wrapping his tongue around yours. 

Simon rumbled out a low groan as you finally started to regain control of your senses, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck. You held onto fistfuls of his hair, tugging at it lightly as his tongue danced with yours feverishly.

You managed to break away after a few minutes of his hurried and rough kisses, only for him to possessively start teething at your neck. 

“Simon…” you mewled, head tipping back to grant him more access. You were so confused but god, you didn’t mind this. Simon was usually incredibly careful and gentle with you. This was new. 

You grabbed onto his shoulders shakily, stabilizing yourself as Simon continued his merciless onslaught on your skin. You sucked in a breath when you felt him teeth at your neck, switching between feverish licks, harsh sucks and bites. You definitely knew that was going to bruise.

“Si, they’re- fuck- people are gonna see that!” you breathed out, tapping him on his side. “Good.” his deep voice rumbled in response, the first word he’d uttered to you since you left with him. His voice had an uncharacteristically dark edge to it, at least when it came to you. “Maybe that’ll keep those fuckers off of ya next time.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Oh.

It was only then that the quarter fell in your mind. Not once in the short month you’d been together had it occurred to you that Ghost was capable of jealousy, much less one to act on it. 

Honestly, you felt a little bad for him. Not that you really could have done anything about it, the idea to keep your relationship hidden was Simon’s idea and mutually agreed upon. But you honestly hadn’t considered how it was possibly affecting him. 

Still, you were pretty sure you knew how to make that up to him right now.

Besides, it wasn’t like you hadn’t imagined what it would be like if Simon fucked the living hell out of you before.

You hiked up one of your legs intently, hooking it around his as you hung off his body. You’d hike it up to his hip if you could, and you sure as hell tried, but God, were you reminded of how Simon easily towered above you in moments like this.

Nonetheless, he seemed pleasantly responsive to your advance. His hand found its way to the small of your back, fingers digging into your skin so harshly you were sure they would leave light flushed marks.

You could feel his prominent, rock-hard erection prod against your belly. Your hands slid down, fingers circling around his belt slowly and gently. Your fingernails dug themselves against his toned stomach, crescent-shaped marks glaring right above the place he wanted your hands most. Simon did not seem to reciprocate the slow, patient teasing you were trying to coax him into. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his thick thumbs roughly force their way past the waist of your pants, roughly tugging at the material. Then it stopped. You blinked, looking up at Simon, realizing he was staring straight back at you. He was a damn sight to behold. His balaclava had been roughly tugged down to pool around his neck, revealing those pretty swollen lips and that sexy stubble he usually kept obscured. You could see a dimly glistening trail of spit trailing down from the corner of his lip, undoubtedly due to the tilted angle he’d been ravaging your neck at. He didn’t move his hands, his head instead inching a little closer. “You can tell me to stop.” he responded in that gruff tone, lust dragging his voice down by at least an octave. 

“You can tell me to stop, or that you don’t want this, and we can stop. But if you don’t-” His grip tightened on your trousers, the pull of the fabric drawing you in closer. “-I will have my way with you.” Fuck. Even when he wanted to do nothing but jump you and rail you until your legs gave out, he still waited for your word without fail. You felt a wave of arousal pool between your legs intensely, your clit throbbing gently at the dark promise rumbling in your ear. Your eyes were almost glazed over as you just stared back at him for a moment, puffy breaths seeping out through parted lips. “You may, please-” Your plea had only barely tumbled off your lips when Simon crashed his own on them again. Wasting no time getting down to business, those thumbs hooked around the waist of your pants were yanked down, taking the fabric down with them. Your underwear soon followed, all while his tongue was still firmly pressed against yours. 

Simon wasn’t kidding when he said he’d have his way with you. You felt his large hands clamp around your sides like a vice, bending and molding you to his liking as if you were clay. His mouth began its second onslaught on your sensitive neck and shoulders, this time biting from the back.

You felt him twist you around, effortlessly as if you were a doll, his left hand leaving your waist to clamp around your wrists instead. You were at his mercy, and the thought made the slick sensation between your folds even more apparent. 

It was as if Simon read your mind. The hand that had momentarily remained on your waist trailed down quickly, your shirt curling under his fingers as he kept them pressed tightly against your body. 

Simon was a man who enjoyed taking his time with you, most of the times he’d have sex with you being preceded by extensive foreplay, but he was in no such mood right now. 

His index and middle finger dipped down smoothly, squeezing your clit between them just perfectly. Your mouth opened in a quiet gasp as you instinctively pressed your body into his chest, though the grasp on your wrists ultimately held you in place firmly. 

The pressure on your clit was rough, deliciously so. His movements were swift and controlled as he rubbed up and down just perfectly, fingers occasionally dipping down to prod at your entrance before sliding back up. “Simon, oh God, mmmf…”

You whimpered, your head leaning against his shoulder for any semblance of support. “‘S that good?” The bass of his voice rumbling in your ear made you shudder, swallowing thickly.

“Yeah, mm… Simon… Simon-” His name drifted off your lips in broken moans and whines, and the Lieutenant absolutely reveled in it. He was the only one who would ever get to hear you moan his name like this, only his name.

“Could anyone else touch you like this? God, you’re so fucking wet for me. All for me.” He growled possessively. This time when his hand slid down, they encircled your hole before plunging in fully without warning.

You whined quietly as you felt his thick digits curl against your g-spot expertly, filling you up nicely and leaving no room for small casual pleasantries. He plunged in harshly with a grunt, and you let out a loud moan. “Speak up.”

“Jus’ you. Only you, Si- God.” Your boyfriend kept ramming his digits into your cunt at a merciless rate, as your breaths started to come out in high-pitched whines and pants. He peered at you through the holes of his skull-shape mask still resting on his face. Simon reveled in watching you lose your composure and whimper like a bitch in heat for all the ways in which he could make you feel good.

“I can’t understand you when you sound like that.” Your glazed eyes snapped open, looking up at him as he looked at you darkly. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you.

“You’re th’ only one. The only one. Nobody else. Nhh… Si… only one who can make me feel s’good…” 

You were struggling to think straight, struggling to form a cohesive sentence as the loud squelching of Simon’s fingers abusing your pussy echoed off the walls. Your head lurched forwards with a loud breathy moan as he changed his angle, somehow hitting your G-spot even more precisely.

You looked back at him, lust clouding your vision as your voice lowered to a more devious tone.

“Keegan could never… make me feel like this…” Instantly, the movements inside you stopped, his fingers stilling inside of you and his other hand finally releasing your wrists. For a second, you thought you fucked up royally and actually hit a nerve. 

This was not the case. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

You heard aggressive rustling and the rumble of a zipper being undone. You tried looking back at him but gasped when you felt his hand clamp down on the back of your neck, torso pressed firmly against the wall. 

His other hand quickly pulled out of you, instead roughly realigning your hips to be further back. The whimper humming softly in your throat suddenly burst out as a loud squeak as the feeling was soon replaced with that of his weeping tip prodding at your cunt, his erect cock pushing its way between your folds.

Simon roughly shoved his way inside, hand roughly keeping you from instinctively lurching forwards. His warm breath puffed against your ear with rumbling grunts as he pushed himself in deeper, until his pelvis was pressed snugly against your ass.

The man did not give you much time to adjust to his girth before starting to move. Not that you needed much time after the rough way in which he had prepared you with his fingers. 

By now, the slick was generously coating your walls, lubricating your hot cunt enough for Simon’s cock to slip in and out effortlessly.

Your mouth fell agape, your cheeks flushed as you struggled to keep your wobbly legs from collapsing, Simon’s rough and fast thrusts throwing you off balance. But nothing slipped past Ghost, you soon remembered, as you felt his tattooed muscular arm clamp around your middle harshly to keep you stable.

You quickly lost control over your volume, whines and whimpers steadily turning into loud and broken. This was usually where Simon would shush you, shove his fingers into your mouth or kiss you. But not this time. “You’re so fucking loud… Fuck, you love this, don’t you?” he growled into your ear, adjusting his pace until he was brutally pistoning his dick into your cunt, his balls audibly smacking against your skin.

“God… you fit so fucking perfectly around this cock. Your pussy was made for this cock.” Simon was usually not one for dirty talk, the words leaving an odd and cringeworthy taste in his mouth after he’d say them. But he couldn’t stop himself, his brain just rolling out the word vomit to subject you to like an assembly line.

You sure as hell weren’t going to complain.

“Simon, fuck- Fuck! Please, just like that. I need- I need you.”

The consistency of his thrusts faltered at that, something that almost sounded like a whimper erupting from his throat. 

A drop of sweat rolled down your forehead as your eyebrows scrunched together, starting to feel the familiar knot in your stomach tightening. Your boyfriend fingering you had already gotten you halfway there, and with the pace at which he was drilling into you you weren’t going to last much longer.

“C’mon, love. My name- let them know. They can all fucking know. Please. I need them to know who’s fucking you. Please…”

He groaned loudly as his hips stuttered, unable to resist you. Goddamn you. You could metaphorically get him to his knees even when he was fucking you against a wall like he wanted to wreck you.

You whimpered, tongue swiping over your lips before obliging him. “Simon- mmm, Simon…” You were hesitant, your boyfriend’s wishes upon establishing your relationship ringing in your mind. But the rough smack you got to your hip told you he couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. “Simon, fuck- God, Simon! Simon!” His name continued to tumble off your lips like a mantra, each thrust into your spongy cunt leaving you less able to think. He was the only thing on your mind, just Simon, only he could fuck you like this. Finally, the coil that had been building came undone accompanied by a loud scream of his name. Your pussy clenched harshly around him as you came on his cock. You were goddamn grateful Simon was holding you up right about now, as you were sure you would have sunken to the floor had it not been for his arm keeping you secure.

The feeling of you clenching around his dick finally sent Simon over the edge too. He let out the most delicious guttural groan as his movements stuttered for one final time, cock quivering before shooting his seed deep inside of you. 

He continued to sloppily fuck his cum into you a few more times before his movements stilled completely, stabilizing himself against the wall with his hand. A silence fell over the two of you as you just took a moment to catch your breaths, Simon’s other hand rubbing over your stomach almost apologetically. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence by any means, but it was also one filled with the realization that there was no way nobody had heard you. 

It wasn’t going to be long before everyone knew who the Lieutenant had been fucking in his room.

“Si, I gotta- I gotta sit.” you finally broke the silence. He responded quickly, pulling out of you with a shaky breath before guiding you to his bed, helping you sit down as he took off his mask and placed it on his nightstand. He eyed your cunt, gently reaching down to half-heartedly shove some of his oozing cum back into your pussy. You whined softly, but didn’t have the energy to do anything else, instead just leaning against his chest. “You sure you don’t mind?” you whispered, fingers tracing the dark lines of his tattoo gently. Simon just grunted.

“It was bound to come out sooner or later.” he said gruffly. “I was growing real sick of it anyway. About time those shitbirds learned you’re spoken for.” You chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around his waist to sleepily tug him into a hug. “You found one hell of a way for them to find out, though. Fucking hell, Si.”

That earned you a gruff chuckle from your boyfriend, who started to guide you to lie down with him on the bed and pulled you tighter against his chest. His lips gently pressed to your forehead as you closed your eyes, the finger drawing figures on his arm slowly coming to a halt as you dozed off in his arms.

You’d both deal with the consequences of this in the morning.

Pinglist:

@rahmown​ (ty for being the first and only one so far <33)

[chaisshitposts]

𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰-𝐔𝐩 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐧 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡-𝐊 + 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

I did psych-k one time and it didn't work. What happened?

Aht aht aht. Incorrect. It did work, you just need to work on correcting your conscious thoughts and everything will fall into place. You really can't expect for things to change outside of you when you haven't even changed what's going on inside of your head. You can make literally anything an assumption to work in your favor. Psych-K is just a technique of deeply penetrating all points in your mind, it's your job to keep feeding your mind what you want.

I did psych-k multiple times and it didn't work. What happened?

Previously said, psych-k works INSTANTLY. It will always work instantly because all those desires you're thinking about exist immediately in your imagination when you think about them It's your job as the creator to persist in your imagination, the world outside of you will eventually comform to your imagination. The main issue here is patience and not thinking in favor of the assumptions you wish to become true. Stop asking 'where is it?' when you've already got it in your mind, persist in your imagination and your outerworld will follow.

I used psych-k to affirm 'I manifest instantly'. Why didn't it work?

It did work, your subconscious heard everything you told it and it's working in favor of what you've told it, but it listens to e v e r y t h i n g you say. Stop telling it that you don't have what you want, you're undoing it's hardwork. Unless!!! You've decided to affirm and persist that regardless of everything you always have your desires OR you've decided to affirm that the more you doubt or think negatively or obsess about something the quicker it'll manifest in your outer world.

I used psych-k to affirm for my dream life. How come I don't have it?

Just as mentioned in the answers above, you've already got it, your outerworld just needs to catch up. All you need to do now is continue to persist in this new assumption that you've got your dream life already. If you see something in the 3D that you don't like, simply stop yourself from finishing thoughts of the old story and repeat your new story. OR you can create the assumption that EVERYTHING works in your favor, no matter how negative or unfavorable it may be. Manifestation is easy, you can make whatever rules you want to make.

Why don't I feel any different after doing psych-k?

I don't know, you're an individual with different workings than other minds. It worked, yes, but you still need to persist in the assumptions you want to become true UNLESS you've whole heartedly decided that you don't need to persist in order to get what you want.

I did psych-k and I feel like nothing changed, did I do something wrong? What if I had no thoughts while doing psych-k?

Not at all, as mentioned above. It's fine if you don't have any thoughts while doing psych-k, just focus on your affirmations.

How long should I do psych-k?

This is different for everyone. However, it's recommend that you do than more than just a few minutes of it. The safe bet is 10-minute sessions revolving around one or two affirmations.

How long do I need to do psych-k in order to have guaranteed results?

Once again, this varies from individual to individual. Psych-K works instantly after one session, but it's up to you as the consumer to decide whether or not you'd like to continue doing it or not. You've impressed the subconscious mind, but you need to continue watching your conscious thoughts until your new thoughts are manifested the way you desire.

Do I need to do the breathing technique to psych-k?

It is not a requirement, however, this is purely based on personal preference. If you enjoy affirming and focusing on your breath while doing so, go for it.

Do I need to cross my hands a certain way to do psych-k?

No. All you're doing with psych-k is crossing over an invisible line by crossing your ankles and wrists, engaging both sides of the brain while doing so. There are many, many different ways to engage both sides of the brain aside from psych-k. There are plenty of brain synchronization subliminals, exercises, and postures that achieve the same effect as psych-k. It's just scientific prayer. Psych-K is simply just the 'whole brain state' pose. It's affirming, super affirming, super learning, whatever others call it. It's basically just taking your affirmation sessions and multiplying them by 1000000000000%.

Does it matter what ankle I cross over the other or what wrist I cross over the other?

It doesn't matter so long as you engage both sides of the brain. Crossing your ankles engages both sides of the brain on its own, and crossing your wrists does the same exact thing. And when doing both, you are simply doubling the effectiveness.

Can I lay down while doing psych-k?

Yes you can, as briefly referenced in this post here.

Do I need to do all four wrist and ankle position combinations in order for psych-k to work?

No! However, if you are unsure of yourself and tend to overthink/overcomplicate, feel free to do what's suggested in this referenced post.

Can I manifest anything I want with psych-k?

YES. FOR FUCKSSAKE YOU CAN MANIFEST ANYTHING YOU FUCKING WANT TO WITH OR WITHOUT IT. And by anything I mean anything. Stop putting limits on things, and stop asking everyone if you can do something. You could literally change your own birthdate, have someone rise from the dead, have yourself a little fairy companion that grants you wishes, you could even change your genitals. STOP ASKING IF YOU CAN AND CANNOT DO SOMETHING BECAUSE THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS Y E S.

While I was doing psych-k I suddenly had a rush of negative thoughts, is that normal?

It's completely normal, you're teaching a disruptive class here aka your conscious mind, just keep saying your affirmations until they quiet down.

While I was doing psych-k I kept having random thoughts, what do I do?

Let them flow, but continue to say your affirmations. Eventually, the random thoughts will slow and there will be nothing but your affirmation to think about. Do not force the randomness away, do not react to it at all, just let the thoughts happen and continue your affirmations.

What if I have intrusive or impulsive thoughts while doing psych-k?

That's fine, just like mentioned in the previous answer. Do not get frustrated if you get lost in other thoughts that are not your affirmation, simply remind yourself of what you were doing in the first place and go back to affirming. Let your thoughts happen, and let them go on their own without giving them the attention they crave.

What if I do psych-k until I no longer have doubts but outside of psych-k I still have doubtful thoughts?

Try not to finish your negative thoughts (unless you've decided that negative thoughts fuel the speed of your manifestarions) and redirect yourself to thoughts of having this desire you want, think thoughts of love, abundance, peace, and all that jazz if you so desire to do so.

Can I listen to subliminals while doing psych-k?

Absolutely you can.

Can I still do psych-k if I'm neurodivergent?

Absolutely, psych-k is for anyone and everyone and does not discriminate amongst anyone.

Is psych-k autistim, adhd, ocd, add, etc. friendly?

As mentioned above, it absolutely is. If you can think, you can do psych-k aka the whole brain state posture for affirmations.

Can I use psych-k to enter the void state // pure state of consciousness?

Indeed you can. You can use any affirmations you so desire, there are no limitations to your mind so long as you can think of even having that desire in the first place.

How many affirmations can I use with psych-k?

As many as you desire, there are no limitations unless you create said limitations for yourself.

Do I have to do psych-k in complete silence?

Nope. Dominant thoughts create states, which creates feelings, and repetition of these dominant thoughts will manifest. You can do psych-k anywhere at anytime around whoever ya want, ya could even do it with other people.

Can I say my affirmations aloud while doing psych-k?

Indeed you can, it doesn't matter if you say them aloud or in your mind, follow your intuition and whatever feels right in that moment.

Can we use askformations/afformations instead of affirmations for psych-k?

Askformations and affirmations are just fancy big words for 'thoughts.' Of course you can think anything you want.

What if I doubt that psych-k works?

The only reason why you doubt that psych-k works is because you doubt yourself and what you're doing. It's been drilled into us since the beginning of time that in order to have the lives we want we must struggle to have it. 'There is no gain without pain.' And as soon as someone comes along and says that we can have the life we desire just by simply changing the way we think— our minds jump into hyperdrive. Keep in mind that that mind is the conscious mind that is thinking all these things. We've been conditioned to think that nothing is that easy, but fuck it is so much easier than society makes it out to be. It's up to you to believe in what you're doing and trust in what you're working towards.

Can I still manifest without using psych-k?

Oh my god, yes you can. You don't need anything but yourself to manifest, methods like this just hold us more accountable for what we're doing. You can literally manifest whatever you want with whatever method you want. I wish people would stop asking what you can and cannot manifest. You can manifest anything you want— even the bad stuff. Why do you think ugly people are ugly? Why do you think pretty people are pretty? Why are some rich and some poor? Why do good people suffer and evil people seem to prosper? Karma literally doesn't exist if you don't think it does, as evil and immoral as that sounds. The subconscious mind, your higher self, your female brain, the BIG you, or whatever you wanna call it, does not know the difference in anything you're giving to it, but if you keep repeating something to it then it's gonna manifest because you've created a belief.

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

Every single person has the ability to manifest instantly as soon as they think about a desire. Do not get that confused with the 3D conforming instantly. In order for you to manifest instantly so that your 3D will manifest instantly as well, you must create the assumption that you have the power to do so, create hope and belief in this assumption. Although it may feel foreign or unbelievable at first, you are creating false hope which will then eventually harden into true hope through repetition of this new idea. It is your birthright to create your own rules around your life, not anyone else's. Unfortunately, many of us have been molded by those surrounding us to act in a way palatable to the masses, however, we are apart of the few who truly have an understanding of manifestation and how it works. We must unlearn that has been drilled into us the best we can. Any method can work for you, so long as you create the belief that they can. You must create the belief, no matter how long it may take, that you can do something, and the rest will come easy.

One more thing— oh my God stop thinking about how long it's gonna take you to do something. I don't care if bigbootymanifest1935 manifested their desires two fucking weeks ago or if voidgod3000 just entered the void state in their sleep after learning about it two days ago. I don't care if you've been struggling with something for a year or four years, y'know why you've been struggling? because you haven't persisted in the thoughts that work in your favor. you haven't created rules and/or a foundation for yourself and that's why you haven't gotten what you want.

I can manifest anything I want instantly regardless of anything and everything.

Every time I quack like a duck and clap my hands two times I shift to my DR.

Every time I blink, thousands of dollars appear in my bank account.

The more I obsess or doubt a desire I have the quicker it manifests in the 3D.

Literally everything works in my favor and speeds up my manifestations.

The more negative thoughts I have about my desires the quicker they conform in the 3D.

The more I react to the 3D the quicker it conforms to my desires.

The more I think about the old story, the quicker the new story replaces it.

Every time I obsess about or doubt the void I enter it instantly.

Every single thing I do makes my list of desires conform instantly in the 3D.

I can manifest anything I want in 3 days or less by dancing around in a circle six times.

Everything I write in this book always comes true, regardless of everything.

ANYTHING can be an assumption, those are just a few examples. You can change your assumptions at any time whenever you want. You have no excuses anymore, stop procrastinating and get to work on your inner thoughts for fuckssake, I'm so tired of your bullshit. GET IT TOGETHER AND DO YOUR INNER-WORK. I don't know how many times the same thing has to be regurgitated from manifestation blog to manifestation blog to get this idea through some of your thick ass skulls.

[wolfytae-exe]

Ouija. (S) (A)

summary: in which your boredom leads to stupid decisions and dangerous consequences.

warning: fear, anxiety, predator & prey, seance, dubcon, dacryphilia, breeding(?) kink, name-calling(cutie, darling, little human, dollface), degrading(slut, whore, nasty), sadism, forced orgasm, death, gore, marking(if you squint), praise at some point, jjun really enjoys the mcs pain, master kink, biting, aphrodisiac,

paring: Incubus! Yeonjun + afab! Reader

wc: 3.4k

Playlist

It’s cold; was October always this cold? You shiver in your living room, a mug of freshly brewed coffee steaming in between your sweater-pawed hands, allowing the apartment to smell like pumpkin spice.

Your TV replacing a fireplace and warm fairy lights are the only thing lighting the area around you as you relax on the couch, the cushions cold as you struggle to afford a heater.

You’re fresh out of school, majoring in linguistics had you living off waitress tips and your savings at the moment, but as badly as it stresses you out, you can’t help but feel content, affording yourself and your life is enough for you to enjoy your coffee and warm lights in autumn. Not to mention it’s your favorite time of the year, Halloween time.

You already had your Halloween candy out, sitting in a big bowl with purple and orange candies on it, waiting for the clock to strike midnight so you can enjoy Hallows Eve in the best fashion, an Ouija board. You knew there was no need to freak out, you messed with the board a couple of years back with a group of sophomore college students during a Halloween party, and the lack of movement in the planchette caused an embarrassment like no other that night.

with one last sip of your coffee, you checked your watch. 12:02 AM October 31, 2023, you sat up and set your coffee down grabbed the box holding the board, and placed it on your coffee table. With a sigh, you pulled the board and planchette out along with the instructions.

After glancing at the paper a shiver ran down your spine. ‘DO NOT USE ALONE.’ scribbled in bold all over the page, you couldn’t make out the other words all over it. “What kinda sick joke?” You muttered as you held up the planchette. It’s Halloween, this is supposed to be creepy, you told yourself before placing it on the board.

You placed your fingers in the planchette and took in a breath. “Is there anyone here with me?” You asked with a slight shake in your voice, anxiety racked you as the room dropped in temperature and the planchette began to move slowly. The sound of the wood rubbing made you want to let go, the planchette didn’t do this before, what the fuck what the actual fuck.

The circle of the planchette hovered over the word ‘YES.’ “O-Okay- Uh, are you nice?” You asked, knowing it was dumb to ask a spirit, why would it ever say it’s bad? The planchette didn’t move for a moment before moving to the letters. ‘H-U-N-G-R-Y’ You gulped, lump in your throat refusing to move. “I-I’m sorry about that uh- what’s your name? Who am I talking to?” You tried to change the topic as goosebumps rose on your skin from the cold.

The planchette didn’t move again for a moment before repeating itself. ‘H-U-N-G-R-Y’ then it moved again, staying on the Y extra long. ‘Y-E-O-N-J-U-N’ the planchette froze. “Is that Korean? But you speak English? Interesting..” You breathed. “What are you Yeonjun?” You asked, pronouncing the name to the best of your abilities as you were rusty in the language, your anxiety lessened the more interesting the spirit became.

The planchette moves. ‘D-E-M-O-N’ never mind, anxiety was back and stronger than before. “O-Oh.. And what do demons eat” You pant, actually terrified now as the planchette moves faster, more fluid, like the control wasn’t in your hands anymore. ‘L-E-T G-O- H-U-N-G-R-Y- L-E-T- Y-E-O-N-J- Y-/-N- D-E-M-O-I-N-C-U-B- L-E-T-G-O -H-U-N-G-R- GOODBYE.’

Your stomach dropped and you could no longer see, unsure whether to let go or not as your lights flickered and switched off, your teeth chattered as you shut your eyes and tried not to cry. “Yeonjun! I don’t understand!” You begged, knowing you weren’t going to get any answers, you were going to die. Your fingers slipped off the planchette, covering your ears as you couldn’t handle the silence.

Eventually, your light flickered back on and the board seemed fine, you seemed fine, you deducted from your ability to breathe, see, hear, and feel. “What the fuck..” You sighed before grabbing the planchette and board and putting it back in the box. Yeah, you were done, it’s time to sleep and throw that board away in the morning.

And that’s exactly what you did, you showered, changed into a warm hoodie and shorts, and tucked yourself right into your bed, ignoring the feeling of being watched and chalking it down to just being paranoid. It took you a while but you were able to put yourself to sleep.

Unbeknownst to you, however, you had a guest, a very hungry and awake guest. Yeonjun watched as you slept, tossing and turning every few minutes. God, he was starving, you looked so cute and tasty he just wanted to ravage you. Yeonjun hid in the shadows of your room a bit longer before giving in to his hunger.

As the demon moved into the light of your nightlight and onto your bed by your feet his clothes disappeared in the dark red smoke surrounding him. His eyes began to glow a sharp red, in contrast to his black hair as a long tail and sharp horn twisted from his lower back and hairline, the sound of his bones maneuvering and crunching to fit the additions along with a deep moan following it filled your room and invaded your dreams.

Your blanket moved over you, hovering over your frame, you curled up, whining before slowly opening your eyes to see why your warmth was gone. A scream left you fast, ringing loud into the room as red glowing eyes stared back from under your blanket, a grip on your hips coming quick, the feeling of the sharp nails causing a whimper to leave you. “P-Please..” You cried for your life, you’re too young to die. “Spare me please.” Tears fell from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks helplessly.

“Yeonjun please,” You knew using his name would do absolutely nothing. “So cute~” His voice rumbled from under the covers, a taunting purr etched into his tone. “You’re not dying yet, Y/N,” He wickedly chuckled. “You just have to feed me, and maybe I’ll let you live longer.” The eyes under the bed darkened, pupils in slits like cats and blood red in hunger.

“I-I- Anything please, I’m sorry I’ll feed you,” You pleaded, attempting to move only to yelp at his nails digging deeper into you, drawing blood. “Ow! I said yes! Yes! Let go please!” You panicked, kicking before the pain seeped into you deeper like you were being branded. “Ah- Stop!” You kicked harder but his grip never loosened. “I like it when humans fight~” A dark chuckle filled the room as he rose.

His horns being the first to catch your eyes, twisted and coiled into the sky, what you didn’t expect was his face, foxy eyes, and plump lips curled into a smile, he was beautiful. But the demon still had you pinned and in pain.

He rose higher, face to your chest and you noticed the bareness of him, his thighs brushing against yours. “Wh-“ You gasp out as you feel his hard cock pressing up against your clothes heat. Tears well up in your eyes again as he slowly ruts into you. “What- What are you..?” You whimper, too scared to let your voice go over a whisper.

Yeonjun cooed before pressing small kisses to your neck and cheek. “I told you,” you let out a sob as he spoke, a moan coming from in as a response. “I’m a demon, a very hungry one at that. An Incubus if you’re asking for my breed. Speaking of breeding.” He moans out, thrusting harder. A yelp leaves your lips as he grabs your hair, pulling back so you are level with him.

“You look so scared, but I can smell it, you’re so aroused~” He smiles, the red glint in his eyes lighting up at the way your legs shook under him. “That’s why you summoned me, isn’t it? You just wanna get dicked down, let go of all your stress?” You couldn’t respond, trying hard not to burst into more tears at the way his cock left you wanting more, wasn’t this assault? Why do you want him to stop and just fuck you already?

“Please… Stop- I don’t want this,” you plead, you knew you were lying, he knew you were lying, he’ll help you relax. “Shh, calm that pretty head little human.” the demon whispered before leaning in and kissing you, you fought, squeals leaving your throat as your hands lifted to hit him, only to be pulled back and pinned to the bed. A sob left you again, you wanted him to leave, you wanted to turn back time and never use that board again.

His tongue pushed through, long and snake-like, you could feel his saliva slide down your throat with ease, numbing the back of your tongue on the way down. Once he pulled away and took a good look at you he smiled. “Huening would eat you up, I’m so glad I answered you instead of that freak.” He knew you’d feel the effects soon, his saliva working as an aphrodisiac slowly but surely. “I got to you first and I don’t share my food.” His sharp tooth grin was the last thing you saw clearly.

Your mind almost instantly felt foggy before a pulse of pleasure shot through you. “Oh- God! What- What did you do to me?!” Your thighs attempted to slam shut on the demon, a rush of arousal ruining your panties. “God won’t save you, Y/N, you have to ask the devil for forgiveness this time.” The demon taunted as he watched your skin turn clammy, sweat dampening your forehead.

Your chest rose up and down, breathing uneasily. “I-It’s hot- ” You panted, the heat you wanted so much ran over your body in waves making you feel suffocated, the pressure in your lower tummy making your head spin. “Relax cutie, it’s just an aphrodisiac, don’t worry your pretty little head.” Yeonjun dipped down, head in between your neck now. You didn’t even feel him at first, mind blown over with disgusting, distasteful, explicit scenes.

“You’re so hot.” Yeonjun chuckled into your neck, licking and kissing at it before biting down, his sharp teeth ripping into your skin and holding on like a vice. You screamed, screamed like hell, there was no pleasure, no arousal; just raw searing pain. Hot tears ran down your face as you clawed the demon, you could feel your blood rushing out be wound like a broken dam, you could feel Yeonjun lap it up, moaning and growling at your taste.

When he finally pulled off his bloody face looked up in pure pleasure like your blood was his aphrodisiac. “Your soul will be such a nice dessert. I won the jackpot tonight.” All you could do was cry, blood stained your sheets and pillow, you couldn’t breathe and you felt like you were gonna die. That was until another wave of heat crashed over your body, you tensed, a whine ripping through your sobs as you felt the teeth marks on your neck closing up, skin building back fast and rough, stretching and burning until completely sealed into a scar of his bite. You were marked with his scent, with his life.

You could have sworn you blacked out, the pain becoming far too much to handle, too fragile as your heart beat fast, pumping back the blood you lost. By the time you came to, you were naked, sprawled out into a star shape, and unable to move. Yeonjun was nowhere to be found but the phantom of his bite and the tightness in your stomach lingered. A sob left you once more, unable to stop when the realization that this was all real crashed into you like a truck.

The more you moved your neck to see yourself, you realized how badly your body was used, bruises and bites riddled all over your arms and legs, scratches all over your torso, hips, and breasts. Your body burned, and arousal pooled under your ass as the aphrodisiac continued to move in waves, as disgusting as you felt you knew you needed Yeonjun. He did this to you, he knows you need him too, that’s why he left. You didn’t deserve this, everything was a mistake, you didn’t know an actual demon would be coming to torture and kill you, you just wanted to celebrate the spooky season.

“Why me..” You sobbed harder, tears rolling into your ears and hair. “Because you’re just so fun to play with darling~” You flinch, Yeonjun's voice vibrates through the walls, a rush of arousal and fear finds its way to you just at the sound of him.

“Stop this…Please..” You mutter helplessly. “But don’t you want my cock? Wanna be filled with my cum?” The demon taunted, still failing to show himself.

“I’ve cum so much in the time you’ve been out darling, your body is just so tasty I couldn’t help it.” You can hear the smirk in his voice before you see it, he’s crouching just at the foot of the bed watching your cunt push out more arousal. “Want me to fuck you?” He grins evilly, “Maybe I’ll keep you if you’re a good fuck, feed me so well.”

A whine leaves you at the thought of him splitting you open, nipples rubbing against one another as he thrusts, legs stretched wide and open for him to take you fully and completely. “Please- Yeonjun please-“ You needed him, needed him in you, anything to stop this sickening edge. “N-Need you-“ You whimper, as much as you wanted him you were terrified of what would happen afterward. You knew he’d kill you, but would it hurt, is it as painful as this? Is it as painful as knowing you’ll never see your friends and family again but all you can do is get dicked down beforehand.

Maybe this was a sign you were a shitty person after all, after the attempts to be a happy woman and live life to the fullest you still were horrible enough to suffer this way. “Get out of that pretty little head and look at me,” Yeonjun growled, eyes glowing in the darkness, his cock pushed against your folds so nicely, your slick way more than enough to help the stretch.

You let out a moan at the feeling of his cold cock, everything was cold about the demon, just another reminder he was anything but human. “Mmm so full already, you must not get good cock often.” The demon teased as he rubbed his cock against your sore clit. A whine was your only response, your hips unable to move. “Shh, Let master take care of you,” Yeonjun whispered before pushing in nice and slow.

“B-Big- too- Ah~ too much~” You moan out as the demon bottomed out into you. You were so close, so delirious, you could feel him everywhere. “Let me take over you, mmm yes~ Just like that, give in to me, melt under my cock.” Yeonjun growled as you clenched and shook. Slowly he dragged out of your soaked hole, letting the pull be nice and slow, he wanted you to feel it all, the veins, the way he emptied you and made you feel like nothing but a shell without his cock inside you.

“Please~ M-Mmmaster~ More please please please~ need you, nothing without your cock please-“ Your begging was cut fast as Yeonjun thrust himself right back into you, filling you so quickly you felt him in your throat. Your eyes rolled back as Yeonjun sped up, hitting that one spot that gave him such an incredible burst of energy. “You love master's cock huh? Say it! You love my cock don’t you?” Yeonjun’s hand found its way to your throat and his thrusts never slowed.

You were turned to mush, unable to even breathe as his hand tightened around your throat. Strained whines gargled from the back of your throat as you attempted to answer him. A loud “Nghh-yesss~“ left you as your toes curled and your pussy clenched around his cock that just would not stop ramming into the spongy part of your heat. Your orgasm hit like a truck, you couldn't hear or see Yeonjun anymore, and your body tingled like pins and needles pricked you all over.

It took a couple of seconds for your high to come down and soon you could see Yeonjun's changed, darkened, expression. He was still, staring at his fist that stayed closed slightly on your throat. Before you could draw in a breath, his eyes began to glow brighter, so bright you could make out the features on his face a lot better. They were sharper than before, his soft face long gone and replaced with the features of a true demon.

His cock stayed buried in your cunt, keeping you nice and full and his fist began to close tighter, causing panic to run through your veins and your lungs to burn as they pumped against each other fast for relief. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think, you were going to die; he was going to kill you, you knew it. “Did Master say you could cum?” His voice was rough and deeper than before, leaving your already sore cunt to clench around him again.

“Oh~ you like when master has to threaten your life?” Yeonjun growled, completely unamused. Soon enough when he could hear your heart pick up in pace he let go of your throat, watching you gasp and shudder for air. “Be a good slut and lay pretty.” He growls out before digging his claws into your hips and beginning to abuse your sore, overused cunt again.

Your mouth fell open, whines, squeals, and mewls pulled from your burning, dry throat as he thrust fast and hard without reprieve. “This the good fuck you wanted huh? Give you my hot cum before I take that soiled little soul of yours.” Yeonjun leaned down into your face, forehead pressed against yours as he moved his hands to wrap your legs around his waist. You sobbed in response, completely numb in your lower half. You didn't want to die at all, you’ve barely even hit your mid-twenties.

The sight had Yeonjun reeling, his long snake tongue slipping out to lick the big fat tears that ran down your face with a hum at the saltiness. “Keep crying dollface, you're so tasty when you're this scared.” The demon taunted before pressing kisses to the violated side of your complexion.

You whimpered, unable to handle the fear of the fact that he not only was going to kill you, but he was going to enjoy every bit of it and make you orgasm again in the process. “Ah- yeah suck me in like that~ bring yourself closer to your last breath.” He moaned with a chuckle at the end, “Make master cum in your needy pussy,” he continued before throwing his head back at the way you clenched tighter. “Yes- oh yes just like that- mm~ you're so good~” Yeonjun whined before his heavy hips stuttered and stilled deep in you.

More tears fell, sobs loud and broken as your throat couldn't take the torture. “Nononono- please nnnah~” you begged the demon not to cum, not to stop and end your life. Your wails and cries did nothing as he spilled more and more cum deep into you, coating your gummy walls in his hot sticky seed. “Ah~ Yes~” Yeonjun sighed at the release he felt before thrusting just a bit more to milk out more of his cum, a ring of your creamy orgasms mixed against his balls.

“Mmm~ all done, dollface~” Yeonjun smirked as he watched you pant and scream for help. “Ngh~ yes keep begging, feels so good~” Yeonjun moaned out before pressing kisses against your jaw and cheek. “Wanna live! Please- I wanna live!” You begged him and turned your head to face him. “So cute~ But my mind is made up.” Yeonjun smiled before his jaw opened up wide and inhumanely.

You attempted to scream again, fear being the last emotion you felt as his chest puffed slightly, and your breath left you once again. You could feel your heart slow and your veins slowly rub against each other as your skin grayed out. You couldn't move or speak, just watch with teary eyes as he slurped up a wispy, white, and smoke-like ball. The moment he swallowed he pulled out of your mummified corpse, feeling full and satisfied. “Tasty to the end.” Yeonjun sighed before disappearing under those pesky covers.

it's cold

okay, I had to repost this so it could get out there. If this doesn't fix the issue I don't know what will to be honest.

[jellyfishthingblog]

𖥨᩠ׄ݁ NSFW Alphabet: Viktor 𖥨᩠ׄ݁

Disclaimer: This is an 18+ blog, so if you're a minor please click off! If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point, you are more than welcome to click off too!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Makes sure you're okay first, let's you come down from your climax before asking if you need anything.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Would love his partner's muscles or back the most. Argue with the wall, no explanation. He likes his own hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Slightly translucent, big loads. Colour #FEFEFE

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Would love to fuck his partner in front of Jayce, just as a reminder that he can and would.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Seems like he doesn't, but he had a few partners before. Knows exactly what he's doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Letting his partner take the lead. As long as he doesn't put strain on his leg, he's okay with it (cowgirl).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's serious. He doesn't want to hear laughter or laugh himself.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Trimmed at the most. Carpet does match the drapes of course.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Reassuring for his partner and himself, mostly. Plenty of kisses.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doubt that he would, unless he's extremely frustrated. Then he'd sneak off to a corner that isn't mostly visible.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Commands. Whether it's him doing it, or receiving it. Other than that, pretty vanilla.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bathroom. Don't ask.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When his partner initiates it. Reminds him that he's desired regardless of his disabilities.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

When his disability is ignored or overly romanticised/sexualised.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to receive, but he's damn good at giving too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow cause his leg. Doesn't like to cause harm, so not rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan, especially when he can't leave the lab for whatever reason. Not super often.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Wouldn't mind experimenting, he has thought about bondage play before.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

3 rounds on a good day, but can last up to two hours each.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does own a few toys, loves when they're used him if he's bottoming.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not often teases, but boy is he the meanest when he does.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lots of whimpering when bottoming, a little bit of moaning and some grunting when topping.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Practically obsesses over his partner's taste.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Length is 5.8in/cm soft, 6.3in/cm hard. Uncut, curved slightly to the left. Length colour #EAD3C5, tip colour #E6ABA7.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

A little higher than average, only because he gets frustrated easily which turns into horniness.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn't, unless in bed.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Just a quick disclaimer, these are my headcanons, you do not have to agree with me.