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cy-cyborg · 7 months ago

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Disability Tropes: The Perfect Prosthetic

[ID: A screenshot from the movie Nimona, showing Nimona, a small white girl with red hair, grabbing the right prosthetic arm of Ballister, a knight in black armour with black hair and light brown skin. He is holding a broken bottle in his prosthetic hand while Nimona admires his arm. Overlaid on the screenshot is white text that reads "Disability Tropes: The Perfect Prosthetic" /End ID]

In a lot of media, prosthetic limbs are portrayed as these devices that act as a near-perfect replacement for a character who has lost, or was born without a limb. So much so that in a lot of cases, the use of a prosthetic has basically no impact on the character beyond a superficial level or their appearance, or it's portrayed as something that's even better than the old meat-limb it's replacing. This trope shows up most often in Sci-fi, but it shows up in all kinds of stories outside of that, even otherwise very grounded ones!

If a story isn't depicting the loss of a limb as the be-all-end-all worst thing that can happen to a person, they almost always default to a perfect prosthetic, functionally curing the amputation with it. But the reality is that prosthetics are FAR from perfect, and as someone who has used them for their entire life I don't think they ever will be. Limb difference is still and always will be a disability, regardless of the prosthetics available, and this really isn't a bad thing.

Why is this trope so common?

I meant it when I said this is a really, really a common trope, so much so that the majority of the media I've seen with amputees and characters with limb differences that released in the last decade or end up using it. Even stories where becoming an amputee is treated like a fate worse than death, ironically, aren't excluded from this. I have a few theories as to why this has happened: The pessimistic answer is that it's easy. You get to have a disabled character and claim you have disability representation, without really having to do much extra work or research because most of your audience won't notice if you aren't accurate - in fact they kind of expect it. You also, for the most part, dodge the backlash other kinds of disability representation (or really any minority representation) usually get. The more optimistic reason is that, for a long time, amputees and people with limb differences (as well as a lot of other disabled people) were predominantly shown in media as sad, depressed and unable to do anything, very much falling into the "sad disabled person" trope. As a kid, this was really the only way I saw people like me on screen or in books. And so, the limb difference community pushed back against that portrayal and were pretty successful in changing the narrative in the public's eye. A little too successful. A lot of creatives were genuinely trying to do right by our community, listen and do better, but many simply overcorrected and instead ended up creating stories where prosthetics were essentially cures instead of the mobility aids they are. I also think the public's general lack of understanding about disability plays a roll in all this. There are a lot of people who, in my experience, believe that the more visible a disability is, the worse it is. Limb differences and amputations are very visible, but prosthetics, even those that aren't trying to be discreet, make them less so. While using a prosthetic is very, very different to a biological limb, you won't necessarily see how in a casual interaction with, say a co-worker or neighbor, especially because there is a very real stigma applied to people with limb differences to keep those things hidden from the public. There are other reasons too, such as the fact that a lot of creatives don't even consider the connection to real amputees when creating characters with robotic limbs in genres like sci-fi and some fantasy, so they never stop to consider that these tropes could be impacting real people. Amputees are also very frequently used in "inspiration porn" content that uses the angle that disabilities can be "overcome" with a good attitude, downplaying the way those disabilities actually impact us. The prosthetics industry - specifically the component manufacturers, often also push the idea of prosthetics being the only way to return to a "normal" life, both to the wider public and to people with limb differences and amputations (which can add to that sense of shame I mentioned when it doesn't play out that way for them). On top of that, I also think the recent increase in popularity of concepts like trans-humanism contributes to it as well. these movements often talk about robotic or bionic body parts being enhancements and "the way of the future", and I think people get a bit too caught up on what may be potentially possible in the future with the real, current experiences of people with "robotic limbs" aka prosthetics, now. There are also inherently disabling things that come with removing and replacing parts of your body, things that will not just go away with some fancier tech.

So How do you actually avoid the trope?

So, we have some ideas about why it happens, but how do you actually avoid the "perfect prosthetic" trope from appearing in your work? The most important thing is to remember that this is still a disability. The loss of a limb, even with the best prosthetic technology or magical item in the world, will always have some inherently disabling aspects to it - and this is not a bad thing. The key is to not over-do it, lest you risk falling into the old "sad disabled person" trope. So let's go over some of the ways you can show how your character's disability impacts them. You don't have to use all of these recommendations, just choose the ones that would best fit your character, their circumstances and your setting.

The prosthetic itself is just different

Probably the most important thing to address and acknowledge for prosthetic-using characters, is the actual ways in which the prosthetic itself is different from a biological limb, and the drawbacks and changes that come with that. For the sake of simplicity, I'm mainly going to focus on modern prosthetics here, but it's worth considering how to apply this your own, more advanced/fantastical prosthetics too. One major thing that most people writing amputees fail to acknowledge is that prosthetic limbs are not fleshy-limbs with a different coat of paint. They do the same basic thing their meat-counterparts do, but how they do it is often drastically different, which changes how they are used. A really good example of this is in prosthetic feet. There are dozens of joints in a biological foot, but most prosthetic feet have no joints or moving parts at all. Instead of having dozens of artificial joints to mimic the real bone structure of a foot, which are more prone to failure, require power and make the prosthetic much, much heavier for very little gain, prosthetic feet are often constructed from flexible carbon fiber sheets inside a flexible rubber foot-shaped shell. This allows the bend and flex those bones provide, without all the drawbacks that come from trying to directly mimic it. Making the sheets into different shapes makes them more ideal for different activities. E.g. feet made for general use, like walking around the city, are simple and light, shaped to encourage the most energy-efficient steps, while still allowing their users to do things like wear normal shoes. Feet made for rough terrain often have a split down the middle of the foot to allow the carbon fiber sheets to bend better over rocks when there is no ankle, and some newer designs also include a kind of suspension using pressurized air pulled from the prosthetic socket to allow some additional padding. Running feet have large "blades" made of these carbon fiber sheets to absorb more pressure when the foot hits the ground, and redirect the force that creates to propel their user forward as quickly as possible.

[ID: A photo of 4 prosthetic feet. On the left, the foot is covered with a black shoe, the one to it's right consists of a small, carbon fiber blade, split down the middle, in roughly the same shape and size as the previous foot. Next to the right is an even simpler and smaller carbon fiber foot with no split, and finally is a very short foot that is vaguely rectangular in shape. /End ID]

These are some of my own prosthetic feet I've had over the years. The two on the right are designed to be used by someone who is less mobile, and the ones on the left are made for someone who is more active. As my needs changed over the years, I've used different designs and styles, and keep the old ones since my needs do tend to fluctuate.

There are also robotic feet available that are designed as a kind of "all-purpose" foot that use an electronic ankle which more closely mimics a biological foot, but they are not very popular as the mechanism adds a lot of extra weight and it requires a battery and power to work, with many amputees feeling the jointless carbon fiber feet do a better job at meeting their needs. The same goes for arms and hands. "Robotic" hands that mimic a meat hand exist, but they aren't really that popular, even in places like Australia where the prohibitively expensive price tag isn't as much of an issue due to government programs that pay for the device for you. Instead, most arm amputees who use prosthetics that I know prefer simpler devices that do specific tasks, and just swap between them as needed, rather than something that tries to do it all. A big part of this is because the all-purpose hands can be clunky. they often require manual adjustment using the other hand to do simple things like going from holding a deck of cards to putting them down and picking up a glass of water, for example. The few that don't require that, I've been told, are often temperamental and don't actually work for every person with a limb difference.

Altered Proprioception

Loosing a limb is a big deal and this is always going to have an impact on the body in some way that won't be solved with a fancy piece of tech. One such example is how limb loss effects your sense of proprioception. This is your sense of where your body parts are in space. It's how you (mostly) know where your foot is going to land when you're walking, or how you're able to do things like lift up a glass of water without needing to actually watch your hand do it. Your brain does this by creating a mental map of your body, but this map doesn't get adjusted if you loose a limb. If that map doesn't accurately reflect your real body, you're not going to have an accurate sense of proprioception. This might look like a leg amputee being a bit less stable on their feet, or like an arm amputee needing to look at their arm or hand to be able to grab something with it. Those born without their limbs who take to using prosthetics often have a lot of trouble adapting, as their brains aren't used to having that limb in the first place, whereas an amputee's brain can sometimes be tricked into using their outdated body map to help them adjust to the prosthetic (though its impossible to line it up perfectly). Prosthetics that directly integrate with the nervous system, while rare, do exist, and even this direct connection doesn't completely erase this issue for reasons doctors aren't quite sure about. This is something that does become less of a problem with time. Eventually, someone proficient with their prosthetic will learn to compensate, but their sense of proprioception will never be 100% perfect. At the end of the day, no matter how it attaches, a prosthetic is still not a natural part of the body, and that will always cause some issues. It also means if they aren't practicing it all the time, they may have to relearn how to compensate for it.

Extra weight

You also have to remember that a prosthetic is not a natural part of the body, like we already talked about, and so no matter how good it is, your brain will most likely always interpret the weight of the prosthetic as something attached to you, not part of you. This means that, even though prosthetics are actually a lot lighter than biological limbs, they feel so much heavier. This is because, while a meat limb is heavier, a lot of that weight is from muscles which are actively contributing to the limb working, so it doesn't really feel like its that heavy. When you have less of your meat-limb though, you have even less muscle to work with to move this big thing strapped to it, so it feels heavier. The more of the limb you've lost, or just didn't have, the heavier the prosthetic has to be, and the less muscle you have left to move it. It's for this reason that a lot of amputees and people with limb differences get tired faster when using prosthetics. Some of us are fit enough where you almost wouldn't notice the extra effort they need to put in, but once again, just because you can't see it from the outside, doesn't mean it's not an issue.

Avoiding Water

Most prosthetics also aren't waterproof, and so prosthetic users have to be very careful about when and how they come into contact with it. For amputees with electric components, contact with water at all will likely damage the device. This can even include especially heavy rain, something I was told to avoid when I got my electronic knee prosthetic and something I assume would also apply to arm amputees with complex, electronic hands. For those with non-electronic prosthetics, water can be hazardous for different reasons. If the prosthetic has metal components, water may cause them to rust, especially if it's salty water. Other prosthetics have foam covers to give the illusion of a limb with the general shape of muscles and fat, but these covers do not come off, and if they get wet enough that water seeps all the way through, it is very hard to dry it and they may become moldy. Finally, cheaper modern prosthetics may also float. Many are made of very light-weight materials and some have pockets of air trapped inside them. For leg prosthetics in particular, this means a user might, at best, struggle to swim with them on, but at worst, may get flipped upside down and become trapped underwater - something that happened to me as a very young child. On the flip-side, older prosthetics were usually made of heavy materials like wood or steel, and so had the opposite problem, acting like a weight and pulling a person down if they were to wear them in the water. Water-safe prosthetics do exist, I had a pair of prosthetic legs as a teenager that were hollow, and designed especially for me to swim with fins on when swimming in the ocean, and Nadya Vessey, a double leg amputee in New Zealand even got a mermaid-tail prosthetic made especially for use in the water. Most amputees though just swim without any prosthetics at all, and in 99% of cases, this is the easiest and safest way to go.

Prosthetic-Related Pressure Sores and Pain

Many people with limb differences also experience pressure sores from their prosthetics. Modern prosthetics typically attach to the body using a socket made of carbon fiber or fiberglass, held on either by pressure, using a vacuum seal or through a mechanical locking system built into the socket. No matter the specifics though, the socket has to be very tight in order to stay on, and this means that extended periods of use can lead to rub-spots, blisters and pressure sores. Many socket prosthetics also use silicone liners to add extra padding, but this means wounds caused by the pressure can't breathe, and bacteria in sweat has nowhere to go, meaning if the person doesn't rest when one of these wounds occur, it can very easily and quickly turn into a serious infection. In a properly fitting prosthetic, used by someone who has fully adjusted to them, this doesn't happen often, but it is something most amputees and people with limb differences have to at least be mindful of. Some new prosthetics use a different method of attachment, called Osteointegration - where the prosthetic attaches to a clip, surgically implanted into the person's bones. While Osteointegration avoids many of the issues like pressure sores that come from a socket, they have their own issues: mainly that they are incredibly expensive, and as of right now, have a pretty high failure rate due to the implant getting infected. Because the implants are directly connected to the bone, these infections become very serious very quickly. Many people with Osteointegration limbs have to be on very strong medication to keep these infections at bay, and they are generally considered unsuitable for anyone who is going to regularly come into contact with "unclean" environments.

Maintenance

[ID: A screenshot of Winrey, from Full Metal alchemist Brotherhood, a white woman with blond hair handing out the sides of a green hat. She is measuring a piece of metal from a prosthetic she is making while Ed, the prosthetic's owner, gives her a thumbs up in the background. /End ID]

Finally, prosthetics also require maintenance from a specialist called a prosthetist, and they don't last forever. Some parts, like a foot or hand, can be reused over an over, but the sockets of a prosthetic need to be completely remade any time your body changes shape, including if you gain/loose weight, you start experiencing swelling, or you're just a child who is growing. Children in particular need new prosthetics every few months because they grow so fast, and as such, their prosthetics have to be made with this growth in mind. If they go too long without adjustment or an entirely new prosthetic, it can seriously impact the child and their growth but even small adjustments can be costly, depending on where you live. While prosthetics are built to be sturdy and reliable, they need a lot of work to stay that way. The more complex the prosthetic, the more work is needed. Complicated electronic components may need to have regular maintenance done by your prosthetist or even the specific component's manufacturer, and depending on where you live, this might mean having to send your prosthetic limb away for this to be done. While my prosthetist technically has the skills and knowledge to do the maintenance on my electronic knee, for example, the manufacturer forbids anyone not from their company to provide this service, meaning my leg needs to be shipped off to Germany once every few years if I want to keep the warranty. This has the unfortunate side effect of sometimes your limbs getting lost in postage (shout-out to Australia Post, who lost mine twice), meaning it can be months before you get it back or get a replacement. Usually, you'll be given a replacement in the meantime if you need it, but walking on a leg that isn't yours, even when its correctly fitted, always feels a bit weird (maybe that's just me though).

Not every difference is Inherently Negative

We've talked about some of the negatives that come from having a prosthetic, but not every difference is negative or even really that big of a deal. In fact, often times, it's these little moments in the depiction of a disability that go the furthest and make it feel the most genuine. My amputations effect me from the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to bed, but that doesn't mean every single way it impacts me is always inherently bad or negative. For example, back when I was working a normal job and going to university, I would often come home, throw my legs off at the door with the shoes still attached and get into my wheelchair, the same way you might throw your shoes off after work and replace them with comfy socks and other comfy clothing. This is something I've only ever seen on screen once, with Eda from the Owl House (and she wasn't even an amputee yet, her limbs were just detachable)

[ID: an screenshot of Eda from the owl house, a very pale woman, laying on the couch in a bathrobe, her hair in a towel. She has taken her actual legs off, throwing them to the other side of the seat. /End ID]

After that, my day mostly looked the same as most other people working a 9 to 5, I'd make myself dinner, watch some TV or play some games, maybe do some extra work at my desk or chat with friends. The only difference is that it would all be from a wheelchair, mainly because my prosthetics were heavy and it was just easier to use the chair around the house. The fact my afternoon and evening routine was done from a wheelchair wasn't a bad thing, it was just different. Likewise, I also don't sleep or shower with my prosthetics on, for the same reasons most other people wouldn't take a shower or sleep in thigh-high, steel-capped boots. In your own stories, this might look like giving your characters similar alterations to how they go about their day. Let them take their arm or leg off when they're resting or relaxing, show them taking a few minutes longer to get ready because they have to put it back on, show them doing some things without it. Arm amputees in particular tend to get very good at going about their days without their arm prosthetics, and leg amputees often either learn to get around more relaxed spaces like their homes using a different mobility aids like wheelchairs or crutches, or just through hopping if that's something they're physically able to do. Even when everything is going well and working as intended, your limb-different character won't wear their prosthetic 24/7, no matter how much they love it. There doesn't have to be something wrong with it or painful about it to not want it glued to them at all times, just like you can love a pair of big heavy boots but not want them on when you're trying to sleep. For more action-focused stories, being an amputee, also changes things like how you fight. The specifics will vary from person to person, but for example, when I did Hap Ki Do, a Korean Martial art, my instructor heavily modified when I learned what techniques. Beginner-level kicks and most leg attacks were impractical for me, as the force from the kicking motion would usually cause one of my legs to fly off. I also couldn't jump very well, due to some complications with my original amputation that made my stumps too sensitive to withstand the force of landing again. So I ended up learning a lot more upper-body attacks much earlier than it is typically taught. By the time I got my green belt, I was practicing upper-body techniques usually saved for black belts - including weapons training that I could use my secondary mobility aids for, like crutches and my cane in a bad situation. Many holds that rely on creating tension in your target are also less effective on amputees, because either the anatomy that causes those holds to be painful just simply isn't there, or the body part in question can just be removed to escape. Whether we're talking about the negative things, or just neutral differences that come with using prosthetics, you don't want to go too far with any one example. The key is to strike a balance. Of course, the old writing advice of "show don't tell" also applies here. It's one thing to tell us all of this stuff, but unless we actually see it play out, it won't mean much.

How NOT to avoid the trope

Before we move on, let's focus for a moment on some common things I've seen that you SHOULDN'T do as a way to get away from the trope.

The Enhanced Prosthetic

A lot of sci-fi in particular will take prosthetic limbs, make them function exactly the same as a biological limb, but add something extra to it. This does change the way the prosthetic functions and is used, but it usually still ignores the actual disabling parts of having a prosthetic. A really good example of this can be seen in pretty much any futuristic setting, but personally, I think Fizzeroli, from Helluva Boss is the best one to demonstrate what I mean. Fizz is a quadrilateral, above knee/above elbow amputee with highly advanced prosthetics that function, more or less exactly like the limbs he lost, but with the added benefit of being super-stretchy. Fizz is an acrobat and a clown in service, at least initially, to Mammon, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. These prosthetics help him perform and we even do see how they change little things like how he walks and just goes about his day, but the show still treats them like natural arms and legs, but better.

[ID: A screenshot of Fizzeroli from Helluva Boss, a white-skinned imp with 4 black, prosthetic limbs, dressed in teal a nightgown as he lays in bed, reading from a list /End ID]

We see that he never takes them off, even when sleeping, and when he needs to use them as regular arms and legs, they do everything he needs, perfectly fine - at least when they're working correctly. The only time he ever even takes them off or has any issues with them, is when they break in season 2. The word amputee is never used to describe him, as far as I remember, and the fact he is one never really comes up at all, except for when they break or when the story focuses on how he lost them. Which brings me to my next point.

The Glitchy/Broken Prosthetic

One way I see people try to avoid the perfect prosthetic trope, is to take the prosthetic and break it or otherwise make it unreliable by having it malfunction, but not really changing anything else. This approach is heading in the right direction but still kind of misses the point of the criticism a lot of limb different folks have with the depictions of prosthetics in the media. Yeah, prosthetics do break down and some do require extra maintenance, but if your character's prosthetic is still exactly the same as a biological limb (or even better, in the case of the "enhanced prosthetic") when it's not broken, and the only time their disability is treated like a disability, is when it breaks, you're not really addressing the issue. Real prosthetics, like we discussed, even when functioning at 100%, exactly as the manufacturer intended, don't function the same as a meat-limb. They are fundamentally different, and the glitchy/unreliable prosthetic completely ignores all of that. Once again, Fizz is a really good example of this - the only time his prosthetics are not perfect, is when they break or are malfunctioning (despite the criticism, I do genuinely love Fizz as a character, but he unfortunately does fall into a lot of disability tropes).

[ID: Another screenshot of Fizzeroli, this time in a torn up jester outfit, looking down, panicked, at his prosthetic arms which are fully extended and laying motionless on the ground, with his left arm visibly short-circuiting with electricity around it. /End ID]

Now this isn't to say you can't have your character's prosthetics break down or malfunction at all. just that this shouldn't be the only way you differentiate the prosthetic from a biological limb. You should also be mindful of how or why they're breaking. A typical prosthetic isn't going to break down randomly from normal use unless something is very, very wrong or your character just has a terrible prosthetist (which unfortunately, does happen). You might experience issues if you try to make the prosthetic do something it just wasn't designed to do, or expose it to something it wasn't designed to deal with though (e.g. submerging an electronic prosthetic in water and trying to use it to swim).

Just add Phantom Pain

Another common pitfall I see when people are trying to avoid the perfect prosthetic trope, is to just give the character in question phantom pain - which is a side-effect of amputation where your brain's mental map of the body doesn't acknowledged you lost a limb. Your brain tries to fill in the gaps, since there is no signals coming from that part of the body anymore, and assumes either something must be wrong and so you should be in pain, even when you actually aren't. Alternatively, it can also happen when your brain was so used to feeling pain from that area before, in the case of people who had chronic conditions before they lost their limb, that it just keeps remaking those old signals itself. Like the broken/glitchy prosthetic approach, this also doesn't really address the issue with the perfect prosthetic trope, because it has nothing to do with the prosthetic itself. Phantom pain doesn't come from the prosthetic, nor does it effect how they're used, and so including it doesn't really address the issue of the prosthetic being functionally the same as the original, biological limb. This isn't to say that you shouldn't include phantom limb sensation or pain as something your character experiences, but just keep in mind that, when used on it's own, it doesn't counter the trope. Also, just be sure to do your research, everyone's experience with phantom pain is different and it's not something everyone with a limb difference even experiences.

Why is this trope even a problem?

Alright, so we know what the trope is, we know why it became so prevalent, ways to avoid it and also how not to avoid it. All good information, but why is this trope even bad? Why should you try to avoid it? Outside of just wanting to portray a real disability that effects real people more accurately in your creations, the prevalence of this trope actually contributes to a lot of real-world issues, especially when it's as overused as it currently is. I've talked before about "the jaws effect" - where the depiction of something in the media, especially something that the public is widely uneducated on, influences how people see it in real life. The Jaws effect specifically referred to how the popularity of creature-feature movies featuring sharks, like Jaws, caused the belief that sharks were monstrous killing machines to become much more wide-spread, even going so far as to influence decisions about laws and policy surrounding real-life shark preservation and culling in some parts of the world. But sharks aren't the only thing this has happened to.

Disabled people are so thoroughly misunderstood by wider society, that when tropes like this one become popular, people can and often do start to believe the misinformation they spread - in this case, believing that our prosthetics are a perfect replacement for a biological limb, and that getting a prosthetic means you're not disabled any more. While this can be annoying and cause small scale issues for some of us, like people giving us a hard time for using disability accommodations we very much need, it can also impact us in systemic ways too. If the wrong people believe these tropes, it can and does have a very real impact on the lives of disabled people through things like changes to policies to make it harder for amputees and people with limb differences to access financial assistance for other things outside of our prosthetics we may need assistance with.

Conclusion

Despite the very real harm tropes like this can do when it's overused, I don't think it should go away entirely. Some of my favourite pieces of media even use the perfect prosthetic trope and there are even some kinds of media where I even think it's somewhat unavoidable. Characters with perfect prosthetics in kids media in particular, especially when talking about side characters, can help to correct some of the other stereotypes kids may have seen elsewhere - such as prosthetics being "creepy" or "scary" - in a way that is casual and easy for them to understand. The problem with the trope, in my eyes, is it's excessive overuse. It's the fact that it seems to be the only representation amputees and people with limb differences are getting now. Not every story with a limb-different character can or even should delve into the reality of what using prosthetics is actually like, but we need at least some stories that do, without it being this majorly depressing thing.

#Writing disability with Cy Cyborg #Disability tropes #Long Post #Disability Representation #Writing Disability #Writing #Writeblr #Authors #Creators #Writing Advice #Disabled Characters #On Writing #Disability in Media

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kismetlotts · 5 days ago

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cw: mentions of oral sex, first date with Simon Riley, Simon is very awkward, drabble

Simon Riley being such an awkward and blunt individual when it comes to dating- it freaks you out because you don't know where you stand. In the SAS, Simon was a cold-hearted bugger, even to his own team. There was little they knew about him and he liked to keep it that way because when things were private they were easier to deal with. What would the point even be filling his teammates, co-workers, in on private matters?

He was impassive. Socially awkward but not in the shy, anxious way people would assume. He could never read the room or bring himself to give a shit, he did what he wanted and took little to no notice of what others though. It sounded fine, and for the most part it was.

But dating was fucking hard- being paired up with real whiny, bitchy women who would just complain over every minuscule thing- fucking hell, he wasn't a goddamn therapist. He didn't have time for people like that- his job showed him how short and vague life can be and he wasn't letting anyone waste his valuable minutes. He hated dating, hated putting himself out there just to come back home and sight in relief at the emptiness- he hated everything about it until he went out with you.

Your first online interaction was a mess of you trying to use some god-awful pick-up line that everyone aside from Simon could comprehend. 'What that mean?' and 'Ok.' Being your only two responses and what the hell, you were intrigued. He was just so- cutting? So rambunctiously dull in a careless manner, you couldn't help but wonder what he was life in real life. And after a few more messages back and fourth, there was no need to wonder anymore.

You drove to the restaurant you were meeting at yourself as he didn't even offer to come pick you up. His overwhelming chivalry and charm, clearly seeping in through his actions already! But honestly you were glad that he didn't. It gave you an exit just in case the date was bad and you just had to leave. Driving there yourself on the first date wasn't anything out of the norm anyway but you were used to men offering most of the time.

You greeted each other at the entrance and you were not expecting from a few blurry selfies of him to be so tall and jacked. Muscles only just squeezing out the armholes of his shirt as he nodded to you and walked inside. Not opening the door for your or even bothering to hold it after himself- nope. Just walking inside as casual as he can be; you couldn't contain your laugh.

He ordered what he wanted to eat, letting you order what you liked as well and the two of you finally got to talking. You shared things about yourself, listened to his deep, gruffly voice share things about him and honestly- it was probably the weirdest yet the best date you had ever been on.

You weren't used to people being like this and it made you surprisingly comfortable and not so on edge as usual. There had been dates that you had gone on that you thought were great; you felt a connection, they said they reciprocated but after it was over ghosted and blocked you for some reason. It hurt you every time and with Simon, you felt like that wouldn't be the case. He seemed like the kind of person that wouldn't mess about and wouldn't still be at the table if he felt nothing.

The food came and Simon dug straight into his steak. Your cheeks warming slightly at all the people sat around the two of you, eating softly, chuckling and sipping on red wine meanwhile Simon just enjoyed himself. His chin was dripping from the juice, fingers messy because despite the knife and fork he made an attempt to use- it was just easier with his hands. Deep brown eyes catching your own and blinking in confusion. His chest fluttered at the sound of your chuckle, a small smirk inching onto his face and he hadn't felt this relaxed with someone in months. He hadn't felt able to be himself.

The dinner went on as you swallowed and picked at your food, not wanting to scare him away or embarrass yourself which was stupid given how messily and carelessly he ate. You knew he probably wouldn't care at all but still- you did it anyway. Looking up at him as you placed your fork in your mouth, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Fucking hot. The lighting was so warm- and suddenly the room felt burning hot. The electricity between the two of you, high voltage and you bit your bashful smile down. Stomach aching in arousal as he sat back in his chair watching the way your lips chewed and swallowed.

"I want to eat you out."

And you almost choked. It was so calm, so nonchalant as it practically just leaked from his mouth. No awareness, no worry for who else might have heard him say that- simply just placing his cards upon the table and informing you of what he was thinking about. Horror coating his face as he saw you splutter and choke on your words, mouth agape in shock. He didn't mean to say anything wrong- he thought that was how it was supposed to go, was it not?

Handing you a napkin and sitting forward a little more as he apologised with a guilty smile. You shook your head, mind still spinning from his words and body boiling with a newfound sexual desire. Sipping on the glass of your drink to calm yourself as you assured him it was fine, telling him it was no big deal.

But, holy fuck.

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gothcsz · 2 months ago

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Dark Room | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4.9k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Accidentally getting locked in the photo developing room with Javier.

Tags: reader really doesn't like javi, co-worker vibes, era typical sexism/misogyny, he's kind of a smug dick but isn't he always?, smut, oral (f & m), reader has never had her pussy ate so javi changes that, unprotected p in v sex, quick blowjob, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, little to no physical descriptions, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: another javi one shot, what's new?! lol this is a follow up to this ask/prompt i got a few months ago and i just thought this would be very fitting for these two 🖤 thank you to my prima @ovaryacted for reading over this 🖤 hope you enjoy and as always, let me know what you think!

“We need some photos pulled from the photo lab…” Carillo’s voice drones on, his explanation fading into the background as the weight of Javier’s stare settles over you, dragging over your body unabashedly.

He’s slouched over a desk that’s cluttered with maps and reports, an overfilled ashtray perched precariously on the corner, its contents spilling over as evidence of long hours and bad habits.

The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up just enough to show off those strong, brown forearms, veins subtly bulging as he drums his fingers against the surface.

The air is perfumed with cigarette smoke, the stale scent clinging to everything. It’s honestly a wonder you haven’t choked on it yet.

Weeks have passed since your lapse in judgment in the parking garage—letting Javier fucking Peña slide between your thighs to take the edge off this godforsaken sexist job that you still haven’t quit.

Nothing’s changed, obviously. The men in the office are still assholes, continuing to treat you like an afterthought, but you just tune them out because at the end of the day; you know you’re better than all of them combined.

Except it’s hard to ignore Javier. Harder than usual when he’s flashing you those round and soft brown eyes that should be illegal for a man like him to possess.

He’s tried cornering you—more than once. The break room, after meetings, even the damn staircase when you were in a rush to head home.

Each time, you shut him down. Telling him to fuck off and take whatever cocky, insufferable game he’s playing and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.

You’re actually kind of proud of yourself for pushing back more than usual, even if you do get hit with a wave of horny nostalgia for the way he’d taken you that day. Quick, ruthless, licentious.

You keep your expression neutral as Carillo wraps up his instructions. Nodding politely, you don’t spare a glance at the other agent before turning on your heel and making your way down to the lab.

The room is lit by a red bulb, casting everything in a hazy, bloody glow. You’re sifting through the folders, squinting at the labels, when you hear it—the soft click of the door shutting.

You spin around, and there he fucking is.

Javier leans against the doorframe, the silver watch on his wrist catching the light, his tie loosened around his neck and the first few buttons of his shirt habitually undone.

With his arms crossed and broad frame filling the space of the doorway, he’s the picture of amusement—of quiet, dangerous persistence.

You hate the way your pulse downstairs stutters at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his jaw shifts, a muscle ticking as he weighs his words, like he’s carefully considering how much trouble he wants to get himself into.

It annoys the ever-loving shit out of you.

When he doesn’t reply, you just huff out breath. “I don’t have time for this. Carillo needs these photos,” you snap, as if he doesn’t already know that. As if that’s why he’s really here.

Your fingers tighten around the folder you managed to locate, flipping through the contents to confirm it’s the right one. It is. Thank goodness. Now all you have to do is get the hell out of here—away from him.

“You’ve been doing okay?” He finally speaks, tone deceptively casual. “Your car’s fine?”

You bark out a laugh, loud and incredulous, because really? That’s what he’s opening with?

“What is it that you want, Javier?” You slam the filing cabinet shut, the sound echoing in the small lab.

And of-fucking-course—he’s closer now. The ruby luminescence of the room carves sharper angles into his face, deepening the contours, making his already unfairly handsome features look even more severe.

“What do you think?” he asks with a tilt of his head, tongue dragging slowly over his bottom lip.

“I think you just want to get your dick wet,” you accuse in a quip. “But I’m really confused as to why you’re so adamant about coming to me for that. Don’t you have a list of whores you can call? I’ve got about a dozen of their numbers written down at my desk. Just for you.”

Javier smirks—slow, lazy, irritatingly attractive. “S’not as fun. Not the same.” He shrugs. “I like to work for it sometimes.”

Your brows lift in disbelief. “Work for it? Wow, this really is just a game to you. To all of you.” Immature, arrogant, government assholes. You can feel yourself getting worked up, reminiscent of the last time you were this close to him.

You don’t give him the chance to reply, instead brushing past him toward the door, reaching for the handle and twisting—nothing.

You try again. And again. It doesn’t budge.

You exhale sharply, pressing your forehead against the door for half a second before pulling back.

Right, so this door has been busted for as long as you can remember, locking from the inside at the worst possible moments, clearly.

You should have snagged the spare key, just in case. This is on you.

And since you’ve got unwanted company, the space feels a lot smaller.

“Please tell me you have your stupid phone on you,” you’re still facing the door, voice tight, manilla folder clenched in your hands.

The sound of dress shoes sliding over the floor, measured, deliberate, breaks the momentary silence.

Your body lights up, tensing as warmth ghosts over the back of your neck, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

“I don’t,” Javier murmurs, too fucking smoothly.

And then his hands—those beautifully large hands—press against the door on either side of you, arms caging you in.

You turn slowly, back pressed to the door, looking up at him as your breath catches somewhere in your throat.

He smells like cologne and Marlboros, an intoxicating combination that does something dangerous to your resolve, sinking its talons into whatever shred of control you thought you had left.

You can already feel the telltale weakness creeping into your knees as he stares down at you, the red hue truly making him look sinful in all the right ways.

This is exactly why you’ve been dodging him, shutting him down at every turn.

Because he makes it so easy to give in if just given a second to lay it on thick, no pun intended. Not only have you experienced his sexual bravado first hand, you’ve also seen the way he works his personality and charm with everyone else.

You wanted to be different, you really did. To not be another person to fall for him. Not after the way he treats you in the office, like you’re barely worth acknowledging unless you’re useful to him. Not after the way he just lets the other agents walk all over you.

It’s really not fair that he looks the way he does or that he fucks like he knows exactly what his partner needs. Like he’s got some weird, kinky sixth sense.

It’s definitely not fucking fair that your pussy is flexing at the memory of him cuffing your wrists behind your back, growling filth into your ear as he took you against the side of his Jeep.

You inhale sharply, attempting to shove the thoughts away.

“I think there’s a landline in here somewhere,” you tell him, grasping at something—anything—to keep your wits about you. “We need to call someone to get us out.”

You try to step away, but Javier moves faster.

He blocks your path effortlessly, stepping into your space like he belongs there, his chest brushing against yours, the heat of him seeping through your clothes.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs, tone laced with that familiar, knowing drawl. It’s so rich that a little bit of his Texan accent slips through. “Let’s have some fun.”

You let out another laugh, except this time it’s thinner, shakier than you want it to be.

“Fucking someone you don’t like isn’t really my idea of fun,” you bite out, but it doesn’t come out as bitchy as you intended.

“Didn’t stop you last time…” He says smugly and you grit your teeth. “It just makes it that much better,” he sounds so indulgent. Like he’s already won.

You open your mouth to argue, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

“C’mon,” Javi coaxes like he’s the devil himself. “You’re always so tense. You work so damn hard, dealing with assholes like me all day. Let me make it worth your while.”

“I thought I told you last time that good dick wasn’t the solution to my problems.”

“I’m not trying to solve your problems.”

He ducks his head, the tip of his nose dragging up the side of your neck, a featherlight touch that sets your skin on fire.

You should push him away and slap him. But instead, you just… let him. Frozen, paralyzed by your own traitorous lust.

His soft pouty lips find your jaw, pressing kisses, each one getting you wetter.

His tongue traces a languid stripe up to your ear, the wet heat of it making you gasp and your thighs press together. When his teeth graze your lobe, you can’t suppress the way your breath stutters.

“Javi—” His name escapes before you can catch it, barely more than a whisper.

You feel his grin against your skin.

“Say it again.”

You shake your head, eyes squeezing shut, as if that will somehow lessen the ache beating at your cunt. As if you can pretend you’re still in control of the situation. Like you ever were.

His hands find your waist, thumbs brushing slow, teasing circles over your ribs. The heat of his palms sears through the fabric of your top, burning away the resistance you were clinging to.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he breathes, lips dragging along the shell of your ear. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You should. But you can’t.

Your fingers fidget with the folder, aching to grab hold of him and pull him closer. You let out a shaky sigh, your resolve finally crumbling to dust.

You really are a weak bitch.

Javier pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression knowing—victorious.

The folder falls from your hands and to the floor as you grab him by the tie, yanking him down, crushing your mouth to his in a kiss that is nothing short of desperate, full of frustration, hunger and irritation.

Javier groans into it, gratified, his grip tightening on you as he presses you harder against the door, molding his body against yours. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming and demanding, and you let him, moaning into the kiss, your nails scraping against the back of his neck as his hands start to wander.

You were always going to give in and you both knew it.

You don’t even remember when his hands started working at the buttons of your shirt, but you feel the fabric coming undone, feel the cool air chilling you as he exposes your chest. His lips chase the newly exposed skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses down the slope of your neck, trailing lower… lower…

You gasp when he undoes your bra’s front clasp, his fingers ghosting over the swells of your breasts before he palms them fully, kneading, teasing, thumbing at your nipples then tugging them until you’re pathetically whimpering

“Mmmm,” you utter, your head tipping back against the door when his lips wrap around the aching peak and he sucks.

Javier chuckles against your skin.“Told you I’d make you feel good.”

Your fingers tangle into his hair, yanking his mouth back to yours, swallowing any other egotistic remark he was about to make.

You feel the hard line of his thick cock straining in his slacks as he grinds against you like a rutting dog, his hips rolling in slow, instinctive motions that have your pussy clenching around nothing.

Maybe resisting him was always a losing game.

It’s not like you’re drowning in offers elsewhere, and hell, you should own the fact that a man like Javier Peña—arrogant, infuriating, dangerously handsome—wants you more than any of the easy lays he could get with a single phone call.

Your confidence grows, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.

One hand slips from the back of his head, trailing down between your bodies, fingers pressing against the rigid length of him through his pants. You squeeze, applying just enough pressure to make him hiss against your lips before he retaliates, biting your lower lip.

The pain blooms deliciously, sparking something even darker inside you. You reward him with another slow stroke, palming him, feeling his dick throb under your touch.

He flips you around quickly after that, pressing you hard against the door, your cheek and tits flattened against the cool surface.

A startled whimper escapes you, but he doesn’t give a damn, too lost in his own haze of desire as he works the button and zipper of your pants.

You quit dressing in cute skirts and delicate blouses to work. You weren’t about to continue to be an office fantasy or easy target for sexist bullshit.

But even in your practical wear and stoic demeanor, you knew damn well these men would find any way to sexualize you regardless. And they’ve proved your point plenty of times.

However, all of your carefully constructed defenses and feminist arguments about power and autonomy crumble the moment Javier Peña drops to his fucking knees behind you.

Your breath stutters, eyes widening as you try to push back against the door, a weak attempt at stopping him—but his grip is firm, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he tugs your pants down, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin behind your knees, making your back arch.

His calloused palms knead into the soft flesh of your thighs, gripping handfuls of your ass like he can’t decide whether he wants to spread you wider or keep you all to himself.

He does both—squeezing, parting you open just enough to make your pussy feel completely exposed, heat licking at her like a slow burn, anticipation curling around your clit.

“Javi—” His name barely leaves your lips before you suck in a sharp breath, body jolting as the wet heat of his mouth presses against the thin fabric of your panties.

Oh shit.

The damp lace does little to shield you from the deliberate drag of his tongue as he licks a slow stripe over the barrier, teasing, tasting, promising you things that make your head spin.

A moan slithers its way up your throat before you can stop it, your fingers twitching against the door as your knees threaten to buckle.

It’s such a foreign feeling.

“Nervous?” he asks, his voice dark, amused, but also curious.

You swallow hard, blinking rapidly against the overwhelming sensation of it all. No one’s ever done this to you before. No one’s ever wanted to. And yet, here’s Javier, on his knees in this dingy basement like this is what he was made to do.

“Just—” You suck in a breath. Fucking hell this is so embarrassing. “No one’s ever…” Your cheeks get hot, making you want to crawl inside yourself.

He stills for a moment, as if letting your words sink in, your panties now pulled down around your ankles.

“Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, at the realization that he’d be the first to eat your pussy. His fingers flex, digging into the plush curve of your ass. “That just makes me want to ruin you even more.”

And then he does.

His mouth is everywhere all at once—tongue eagerly dragging through your folds, circling your clit dexterously and it’s a miracle you don’t melt entirely then and there.

His aquiline nose notches between your cheeks and the pressure makes you yelp in surprise.

Your fingers claw at the door like a rabid animal, trying to find something to hold onto, something to ground you as Javier devours your cunt.

He works you open by lapping thirstily and sucking on your wet flesh, groaning against you like he can’t get enough.

It’s otherworldly, a kind of pleasure so overwhelming that frustration bubbles up inside you. Why the fuck has no man ever done this for you before?

Your hips jerk when his tongue slides inside your hole, his mustache scraping against your soaked skin, his nose pressing against your asshole.

The contrast of soft and rough, teasing and taking, has you whining loudly, your forehead pressing against the cool wood as your eyes close tight.

The tension in your stomach twists tighter, hotter, tears spilling from your waterline as he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until your knees finally do give out but he holds you steady, keeping you from falling as you hit the wall of your orgasm.

“Oh my god!” The words spill from you in a breathless, wrecked moan, your body pulsing, shuddering, before slumping as pleasure melts into boneless relief.

He takes his time with you, his mouth slowing to match your come down, his tongue kitten licking at your oversensitive sex like he relishes the taste of you.

He presses one last, open-mouthed kiss to your clit before pulling away.

His whispers are hushed, sweet words murmured against your trembling thighs until he stands, rising up behind you, his broad frame looming over yours.

You feel him—his chest, his shoulders—so solid and manly, pressing against your back. You’re still panting, skin heated, body humming, when you finally turn your head to look at him.

Javier Peña has never looked hotter in his goddamn life.

“Hard to believe no one’s ever tasted you, baby. Sabes tan dulce.” The praise sends a violent shudder straight to your freshly ate cunt.

He’s quickly working his belt open, the soft clink of metal making your thighs quiver in anticipation.

He fists his cock, stroking himself languidly, dragging his palm over the thick, velvety skin before his fingers dip between your legs, gathering the slick arousal dripping from your pussy.

Thankfully the door is thick enough to muffle the desperate, broken moans spilling from your lips, and that this basement is hardly ever visited—because the last thing you need is an audience for this shameful, filthy indulgence.

Yet once the lust settles, that same isolation won’t feel so convenient. You’ll be more than eager to get the fuck away from him.

He smears your sticky wetness over his shaft with a groan, eyes hooded and hungry as he watches your body react to him.

All you can do is continue to writhe, legs shaking as you kick your pants and panties off completely, giving yourself room to spread and bend over for him, expecting him to take you as he did last time.

But before you can brace yourself against the door again, Javi moves fast, flipping you to face him, his large hands cupping the backs of your thighs.

It’s instinct to wrap your legs around his waist, your ankles locking behind him as he hoists you up, pinning you against the door.

His lips crash into yours, hot and urgent, teeth clashing, tongues tangling as you flick off his tie and work open the last of his buttons.

His shirt hangs open, exposing his warm, taut chest to your greedy fingers, and you run your hands down the hard planes of his torso, reveling in the contrast of smooth skin and how human he feels despite the sex god aura he emits so effortlessly.

But it’s his neck that has you dizzy. That sharp jawline, his defined Adam’s apple, how his pulse pounds just beneath the thick muscle.

You make eye contact for a brief, charged second before your mouth latches onto his neck, tongue dragging over salt and cologne, teeth nipping at the tendon.

The way the red light paints him—his bronzed skin darkened by shadow, eyes heavy-lidded with hunger for you, lips slick from your kisses and pussy—it all makes you dizzy with need.

Javi growls low in his throat, shifting his hold to steady you against the door, angling himself just right before pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

The stretch is immediate, slow and torturous as he sinks into you inch by inch, your walls fluttering around the intrusion of his dick, the burn mixing beautifully with pleasure.

Your jaw falls open, but no sound comes out, only ragged breaths and a strangled whimper as your cunt struggles to accommodate around his girthy cock.

His gaze is locked onto yours, dark and molten, his lips curling at the way you tremble in his hold.

You’d slap the smirk right off his face if your hands weren’t too occupied with digging into his shoulders to keep you sane.

“That’s it, puta madre,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good.”

“S-Stop talking and just fuck me,” you breathe as you yank him closer, pressing your tits against his bare chest.

Javier doesn’t need to be told twice.

With a sharp thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, slamming you back against the door, the impact rattling through your bones and knocking the air from your lungs.

The obscene sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoes through the cramped room as he sets an unforgiving yet utterly satisfying pace.

Every stroke of his cock against your walls, every graze of his pelvis against your swollen clit, sends you spiraling higher.

The heat of the red light, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air, the filthy sounds between you—it’s all too much, too good.

His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you right where he wants you as he fucks you hard and deep.

He plants one hand next to your head while the other slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, teasing circles, you break.

Your body seizes, nails raking down his back as your orgasm slams into you, pleasure blinding and unbearable.

Javier groans, hips stuttering as he chases his own release, as he fucks you through your climax. “That’s it. Fuckin’ come for me—mierda, so fuckin’ pretty pinned up on the door like this, fallin’ apart all over this dick—”

“D-Don’t finish inside.” The words spill from your lips between gasps, your foggy mind barely catching up to the reality of what you’re doing.

You thank whatever shred of sanity is left in you for speaking up before it’s too late—because fuck, you almost forgot.

A part of you chastises yourself for even letting it get this far, for not making him wear a condom either time he’s had you.

You know better. You know Javier gets around, that his reputation in bed is just as legendary as his skill with a badge and gun.

He groans, a deep sound of both pleasure and frustration. He wanted to finish inside you. You can tell by the way his thrusts falter, how his fingers dig into your hips a little harder.

The idea of filling you up, of making you take all of him, has him on the edge, his control hanging by a thread.

“Fuck,” he grits out, and suddenly, he’s pulling out of you, his cock slipping free with a wet, lewd squelch that makes your empty walls clench around nothing. Before you can catch your breath, he’s pushing you onto your knees, the roughness making your head spin, your lips parting in surprise.

He takes full advantage.

Javier’s hand grips the back of your neck as he guides himself between your lips, pushing his thick cock into the heat of your mouth with a sharp hiss.

You barely have time to react before he’s thrusting in deep, the heavy weight of him stretching your jaw, his scent overwhelming your senses.

Your hands fly to his thighs, nails digging in as he fucks your mouth the same way he just fucked your pussy: relentless, desperate, filthy.

Your tongue flattens beneath him, taking him as best as you can while he pants above you, his breath ragged, his curses slipping into Spanish as he chases his release.

And then you feel it how he stiffens, the pulse of his cock against your tongue before his salty release spills hot and thick down your throat. Javier groans as he holds you there, making sure you swallow every drop.

“Goddamn baby,” he rasps hoarsely, his fingers easing from your hair as he strokes your cheek, his softening cock still twitching between your lips.

When he finally pulls out, you’re left breathless, your mouth swollen, your body still thrumming with pleasure and exhaustion.

You look up at him, and the sight alone makes your stomach flip—his chest rising and falling, his shirt completely undone, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, hair falling in front of his face and gaze hooded and dark as he stares down at you.

He looks wrecked and you’re the reason why.

The fog of lust dissipates all at once, replaced by a feeling akin to cold water washing over you. Your lips are swollen, your knees ache from the hard floor, the unmistakable taste of him lingers on your tongue, and your pussy is sticky with the remnants of his pleasure.

You rise quickly with a sharp breath, ignoring the way your thighs still tremble. He offers a hand, fingers curled in that lazy, confident way that suggests he thinks you’ll take it.

You don’t.

Instead, you swat it away, reaching for your discarded clothes with sharp, jerky movements, yanking your panties up, stepping into your pants, and shoving your feet into your shoes without grace.

Every button fastened, every piece of fabric back in place feels like reclaiming a part of yourself, like stitching together the resolve that had crumbled the second he put his mouth on you.

You allow yourself moments of weakness—you’re only human, and he’s too good of a fuck to deny. But moving forward, you’ll have to be more resolute.

This? This was a mistake you can’t afford to keep making. The last thing you want is for him to think he has an in with you just because he’s made you see stars with his dick… and tongue… and fingers. Goddamnit.

“You gonna keep this little act up,” he drawls, redressed himself, half ass fixing his belt, “or am I gonna have to chase you down just to get you to fuck me again?”

You snort, shaking your head as you adjust your bra and start buttoning your blouse. “You do realize how predatory that sounds, right?”

He just smirks, unfazed, and leans against the desk nearby as if he’s lounging. “And that whole thing about no one ever going down on you… That true, or were you just trying to get a reaction out of me?”

You ignore him, not about to stroke his already inflated ego by admitting he’s the first and only person to ever taste you so intimately.

Instead, you snatch up the forgotten folder from the floor, shooting him a glare through the red lighting of the room. “Help me find the landline so we can call someone to let us out.”

Javier just chuckles, shaking his head as he finishes tying his tie. “Won’t need to.”

Your eyes narrow. “What?”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the spare key.

Your jaw drops. “You had that with you the entire time?”

His only response is a shrug, like it’s no big deal. Which, truth be told, it isn’t. But the realization that this was all orchestrated is enough to make your blood boil. You wonder if Carillo was in on it too.

Your teeth clench, fingers curling into a fist at your side as he pushes off the nearby table and steps forward, unlocking the door with an infuriating lack of urgency.

He swings it open, then leans against the frame, motioning for you to go first with an exaggerated flourish.

“After you.”

You consider punching him, it had felt so damn good doing it last time. You don’t, however, instead storming past him, ignoring the way your skin still hums where he touched you, ignoring the smug chuckle that follows you out into the hallway.

You’ll let this go, you have to if not it’ll prick at you until you snap. You really don’t know how many more crash outs you have left in you before you do something more reckless than fucking the DEA agent.

Though one thing becomes sparkling clear in this moment—you’re going to have to find a way to resist Javier Peña. Even if he’s dead set on making that impossible.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

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#pedro pascal #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #kat's writing.#javier pena x you

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luveline · 2 months ago

Note

can we have bed time with dad!spencer, his baby boy and reader?

Jude has brown eyes like Spencer. They have the same mouth and nose, the same thoughtful gaze. “That’s me,” Spencer says, Jude’s back to his chest, an arm between his legs to keep the little boy steady, “and this is you.” He points at Jude before smoothing a hand over his chest. “See us? That’s dad and Jude.”

“Us,” Jude echoes.

“Yeah, that’s us.”

Jude works his lips up into a smile.

They smell like talc and lavender oil for the teeny tiny burns on Jude’s fingertips. He touched the oven door a few days ago while it was still on, Spencer gets hot remembering how hard Jude cried. It took more kisses than he bothered counting to make him stop screaming, an ice pop held to his small hand with a hand towel wrapped around it, squeezed to the bathroom door together —the first place Spencer could remember seeing a towel, Jude still sobbing.

Spencer wants Jude to associate the bathroom with normal things. Peeing, showering, and not the little burns. If he can have happy associations, that’s better. Like dad and Jude’s night time routine, where Spencer brings him in here to brush his teeth and dab his face clean with a cloth. Some nights he needs to detangle his hair, or give his baby an impromptu shower, and some nights Jude is already asleep by the time Spencer remembers these things.

“You’re really handsome,” Spencer says, pointing at the mirror, “see? You’re beautiful. See your smile?”

Jude giggles excitedly. “I am beautiful,” he says proudly.

“Exactly, you’re beautiful. Are you happy?”

“Yeah,” he says, tipping back, his curls tickling Spencer’s nose.

“Are you comfy?” Spencer whispers.

“Think so.”

“You think so,” Spencer says, beaming to himself as he kisses the top of Jude’s head. “You’re smart, Judey. Okay, how do we know we’re comfortable? Are your clothes tight? Do you want to take off your socks?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. Does your mouth still taste all minty from the paste?”

A flicker of disgust. “Yeah, it does.”

“I’ll get you your sippy cup. You don’t seem tired, are we having a story?” he asks, voice turned to fatherly syrup as he shifts Jude around. He turns off the bathroom light and shuts the door behind them as they leave.

“No, I wan’ be in the big bed.”

“You do?”

“With you.”

“Okay, that’s okay, you can be in the big bed, are you sure you don’t want a story too? We can read about Edward the rabbit again.”

Jude doesn’t bother answering. Spencer tends to read to him every night unless Jude has expressly shouted that he doesn’t want one, ‘cos that’s what his mom did for him, and Spencer loves his mom.

Spencer fills Jude’s sippy cup with water (not so much a sippy cup as a bottle), and they retreat together to the big bed. In the middle of the bed, tired and curled up and waiting for them, is you. You perk up enough to drag yourself to one side of the bed as you kick down the sheets.

Spencer isn’t used to this, but he should be. (This, because there isn’t really a word for it? For being friends and for not being intimate and for sleeping in the same bed together whenever you stay the night.)

“Hi, baby,” you say, holding your arms out for Jude.

Spencer gives him over. Jude suckles his drink, a picture of the baby he was when Spencer first got him as he turns into your chest. He’d need all the help he could get back then. You’d given more than he could ever ask for, and Jude knows you for that.

You tip Jude against you and press yourself flat, your hand spread over his back.

“Are you reading Edward Tulane tonight?” you ask quietly.

“Just a bit. Couple of pages.”

“Sounds good. You okay, mister?” you ask Jude.

He nods around his drink.

Spencer turns the light off and the lamp on, bathing you and Jude in a kind orange glow. The mattress sinks under his weight, dipping under yours, encouraging you closer together in the middle. You barely notice the outside influence, shuffling across the pillows to rest your face against Spencer’s arm.

“Did you want milk?” Spencer asks him. “You can have some, it’s okay.”

“Minty,” Jude whispers.

“Minty,” you whisper in support. “Daddy takes good care of those teeth, huh?”

Jude loves being spoken to sweetly. He closes his eyes as you pull him like a curve to you, squished and cuddling. You’re his mirror, eyes fluttering shut as you sniff his hair. Spencer loves your smile —he knows what you’re thinking, because he knows what you’re thinking. Jude still smells like baby.

“Maybe this book is too sad,” Spencer says, thumbing to the last page he’d read from.

“It’s not too sad, and we won’t be awake long.”

“My Judey told me he’s not tired,” Spencer says.

“My Judey needs his sleep,” you whisper.

Jude smiles and lets the rest of the cup fall away from him. “Can say you love me?” Jude whispers.

“Who, baby?” Spencer asks.

“You and you,” he says.

You take a deep breath, whispering grandly, “I love you.”

Spencer follows suit with a hand wrapped around Jude’s calf. “I love you, too. So much they don’t have a word for it yet. You know your middle name, you know what it means? Anwil, it means loved one, because I love you a lot. And I have forever and ever.”

“And ever?” Jude asks.

Spencer rubs his leg softly. “And ever. More than Y/N does.”

You gasp in offense. “No way!”

Jude giggles but settles as you run your fingers through his hair. Spencer lays down and cracks the book over his chest, falling into his usual reading cadence, though he doesn’t bother much with special voices. Jude’s eyes are already shut and he’s jelly on your chest.

He leans over mid story to brush hair from Jude’s ear. “I love you,” he says, to be sure.

Jude says something back that sounds like, “too.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer and jude

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annarellix · 2 years ago

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Crook Manifesto by Colson Whitehead (Ray Carney #2)

1971 – Trash is piled on the streets, crime is at a record high, and the city is careening towards bankruptcy. A shooting war has broken out between the NYPD and the Black Liberation Army. Ray Carney, furniture-store owner and ex fence, is trying to keep his head down, his business up, and his life on the straight and narrow. His only immediate need is Jackson 5 tickets for his daughter May, so what harm could it do to hit up Munson, his old police contact and fixer extraordinaire? And suddenly, staying out of the game becomes more complicated – and deadly. When one of Ray’s tenants is badly injured in a fire, he enlists the enduringly violent Pepper to look into how it started, leading the duo to battle their way through a crumbling metropolis run by the shady, the violent and the utterly corrupt.

In scalpel-sharp prose and with unnerving clarity and wit, Colson Whitehead writes about a city that runs on cronyism, threats, ego, ambition, incompetence and even, sometimes, pride. Crook Manifesto is a kaleidoscopic portrait of Harlem, and a searching portrait of how families work in the face of indifference, chaos and hostility.

Book page: https://www.littlebrown.co.uk/titles/colson-whitehead/crook-manifesto/9780349727646/

My Review: Colson Whitehead is one of my favorite contemporary writers. I think I could read his shopping list and write something like “Brilliant, exciting, strongly recommended” as my brain starts to fangirling and loving every single sentence. I loved his books since I read The Underground Railroad, had a sort of mystical epiphany when I read the Nickel Boy and it was a constant literary love, this means Crook Manifesto was one of my top books of 2023. I know that you usually end a book before reviewing but I’m loving it so much that I cannot wait to talk about it. New York, Harlem, the social changes of the 70s are at the core of this brilliant story. There’s violence, there’s fun and there a lot of food for thought as you wonder if the story is going to repeat. I was curious to read about Ray Carney new enterprises and wondering what would happen. I wasn’t disappointed and I can tell this is a great story, a book that brought me back in time and showed me another side of New York. As I grew up listening to Patti Smith and Television my vision of the city was quite arty and bohemian. This story shows the other city and showed me how normal people was living, the racism and the social issues. It was like travelling back in time to a parallel reality and discovering new aspects and event. The storytelling, the character and plot development are as super as usual and I’m not fangirling while I write this. I strongly recommend it and cannot wait to read the third book in the Harlem Trilogy Many thanks to Little, Brown Book Group UK for this ARC, all opinions are mine.

The Author: Colson Whitehead is a multi-award winning and bestselling author whose works include The Nickel Boys, The Underground Railroad, The Noble Hustle, Zone One, Sag Harbor, The Intuitionist, John Henry Days, Apex Hides the Hurt and a collection of essays, The Colossus of New York. He is one of only four novelists to win the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction twice and is a recipient of MacArthur and Guggenheim fellowships. For The Underground Railroad, Whitehead won the National Book Award, the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction, the Arthur C. Clarke Award for Fiction, the Andrew Carnegie Medal for Excellence and was longlisted for the Booker Prize. He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for a second time for The Nickel Boys, which also won the George Orwell Prize for Political Fiction and The Kirkus Prize. The Underground Railroad has been adapted as an Amazon Prime TV series, produced and directed by the Academy Award winning director Barry Jenkins, and was broadcast in 2021. He lives with his family in New York City.

Website http://www.colsonwhitehead.com/ Twitter: colsonwhitehead

#Harlem Trilogy #colson whitehead #Little Brown co Uk Netgalley review

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monzabee · 2 months ago

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the nanny - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: there is a mysterious woman visiting hotch’s office... it’s his nanny?

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: nosy profilers, other than that none

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

“Excuse me, can you point me to the direction of Aaron Hotchner’s office?”

Thirteen words.

Thirteen words is exactly what it takes for the BAU to lose their minds over the fact that there is a woman who is visiting their boss.

“Do you think that’s his girlfriend?” Penelope whispers, failing rather miserably, as they watch you retreat into Hotch’s office.

Emily’s eyebrows raise at the insinuation, “No way, when was the last time Hotch was even on a date?”

“Not for at least two years,” Spencer scoffs, earning glaring looks from three of his co-workers. “What?” He asks, innocently shrugging his shoulders.

“Look at her,” JJ shakes her head, she isn’t she isn’t convinced. “She doesn’t seem like just a random visitor.”

“Maybe she’s a lawyer,” Derek offers, arms crossed as he leans against the desk. “Or, God forbid, a new profiler.”

Penelope gasps dramatically, pouting. “Another profiler? In our sacred little family?”

“I don’t think so.” Emily tilts her head, watching through the glass windows of Hotch’s office. “He doesn’t look like he’s briefing her. He looks… I don’t know. Different.”

“Different how?” Spencer asks, squinting as if he could analyze the interaction better.

Before anyone can respond, the blinds to Hotch’s office suddenly snap shut. The team collectively inhales.

“Oh my God.” Penelope clutches at Derek’s arm. “He never closes the blinds. Never.”

JJ exhales, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s crazier. The fact that Hotch might actually be dating someone… or the fact that none of us had any idea.”

If there is one thing Aaron Hotchner is good at, it would be compartmentalizing. He had to, as a unit chief who wanted to protect his team from all the bureaucratic headache that he had to endure, or as a father who wanted to shield his son from his line of work as much as possible.

So, it came as no surprise to him to not talk about his nanny—well, not his nanny per se, but rather Jack’s nanny.

“You’ve caused quite a scene downstairs, you know that, right?” Aaron asks you as he makes his way back to his desk from the small window overlooking the ballpen.

“I only asked them where to find your office,” you shrug, hands folded primly on your lap — something rather uncharacteristic now that Aaron realizes. “They were very nice, though.”

Aaron sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They're not used to seeing unfamiliar faces here. Especially in my office.”

You raise an amused brow. “I figured as much from the way they all gawked at me like I had grown a second head.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “You should've called. I would've met you downstairs.”

“And miss the chance to see your team’s collective meltdown?” You smirk, crossing one leg over the other. “No way.”

Hotch gives you a pointed look, but there's the ghost of a smile threatening to break through his usual stoic expression. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you lunch,” you simply shrug, placing the brown paper bag on his desk and leaning back into the chair, “I got you a sandwich from that place you like near the park.”

Hotch looks at the bag, then back at you, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You roll your eyes. “I know I didn’t have to. But let’s be honest, you were either going to skip lunch entirely or eat some sad excuse for a meal at your desk.”

Aaron exhales through his nose, the closest thing to amusement you’ve seen from him in days. “I eat just fine.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Last week, I caught you eating dry cereal straight from the box while reviewing case files.” He opens his mouth to say something in retaliation, but you stop him before he can get a word out, “Do not even dare to say it was late, I left you a whole plate of food out.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you only grin in response. There’s a beat of silence before he reaches for the bag, opening it to inspect the contents. His lips press together in what you assume is reluctant approval. “Roast beef?” he asks.

“With extra mustard, just how you like it,” you confirm. “I even got you one of those overpriced iced teas you pretend not to like.”

He pulls out the bottle, eyes flicking up to you in mild disbelief. “I should consider adding you to my team.”

“Jack and I have a system,” you reply breezily as you shrug again. “He tells me your weird habits, and I use them against you.”

That actually earns you a soft chuckle, and for a brief moment, he looks lighter. Less like the hardened unit chief, more like the man who lets his son climb onto his back during bedtime stories.

But the moment doesn’t last long. His gaze shifts back to you, more serious now. “Was this really just a lunch delivery, or is there something else?”

Damn profilers. You hesitate, then sigh. “Jack asked me to check on you.” Hotch stills. “He’s fine,” you add quickly, knowing where his mind just went. “He just… he worries. He said you looked ‘extra tired’ this morning, which, considering your usual level of exhaustion, is saying something, and I’d thought I’d check up on you.”

Aaron closes his eyes briefly before exhaling. “I don’t want him worrying about me.”

“He’s a kid, Mister Hotchner. He’s going to worry about his dad.” You soften your tone. “And honestly? I get it. You do look extra tired.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, as if trying to figure out how you always manage to see right through him.

“You know,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “you’re allowed to take a break every once in a while. Eat your sandwich. Maybe even come home before Jack falls asleep tonight.”

Hotch doesn’t answer right away, but eventually, he reaches for the sandwich, unwrapping it with a sigh of resignation. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” you say with a satisfied nod, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off your skirt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go face the firing squad out there. I’m assuming Penelope is probably two seconds away from storming in here for answers.”

Hotch smirks, shaking his head. “You brought this on yourself.”

“I promised Jack,” you say over your shoulder before heading toward the door.

And sure enough, the second you step out of the office, six pairs of eyes snap to you, curiosity burning in their expressions.

You grin. “What? Never seen someone bring their boss lunch before?”

You can hear the pandemonium that ensues as you make your way towards the exit.

#monzabee #requests open #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #hotch x reader #hotch imagine #nanny!reader

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msmk11 · 8 months ago

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Pretty Boy

Harry Potter x fem!reader

WC: 563

CW: mentions of the Dursleys being neglectful; FLUFF

Summary: You love to make your boyfriend embarassed

Day 21 of mk's mad dash

Sadly, your boyfriend grew up without any affection from his family. So, it was no surprise that any affection he was shown was foreign to him. And, in some cases, maybe even a little embarrassing. You remembered the early days of your relationship- how even a peck on his cheek or a hug would make him blush furiously. With time, of course, he became more comfortable in your affection and even initiated it himself. Still, occasionally, you were able to bring back out his shy side, intentionally or not.

In this instance, you were very intentional about trying to make your boyfriend blush. After he’d called you pretty girl a few weeks ago and left you a flustered mess, you were determined to get revenge.

You decided to act completely unassuming, only throwing the term of endearment back in his face when he was most vulnerable and sweet in your arms.

After a long Friday of classes, you brought Harry back to your dorm to cuddle and relax, simply enjoying one another’s presence. You snuck some food from the kitchens that now left you both feeling stuffed and satisfied. In your current position you were laying sprawled out, back on the bed and Harry nearly entirely on top of you.

In your post-dinner bliss, you two had gone mostly silent, reveling in each other’s company and touch. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through Harry’s wild black hair, pursuing a pointless mission of trying to untangle his curls.

Your boyfriend’s face was buried in your neck, occasionally pressing gentle kisses to your skin when the urge presented itself.

When your fingers made their way to the nape of his neck, Harry hummed softly against you.

“Feel good, Haz?”

“Yeah, baby. So good. Love when you play with my hair,” he sighed.

You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, “Good. You deserve to be spoiled, you know.”

“Why? ‘Cos my parents are dead?” he mumbled.

To those who didn’t know your boyfriend, this type of comment would’ve left them floored. But for you, who was used to his dark humor, you only laughed disbelievingly, squeezing his arm chidingly, “Harry!”

“Well?”

You pressed another fond kiss against his skin, this time to his cheek, “You deserve to be spoiled because I love you and because you’re a sweet boy.”

Then more quietly you whispered, “my sweet boy.”

Harry raised his head from its home in your neck and pecked your lips lovingly, “love you, baby.”

You knew that now was the time to strike.

“I love you too, my pretty boy.”

Your boyfriend’s face went from loving to embarrassed in seconds, his brown skin coloring red.

He whined and buried his face back in your neck.

“What’s wrong my love,” you asked teasingly.

“You know what’s wrong,” he grumbled, “you did it on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?”

Harry looked back up at you, the most adorable pout gracing his lips, “You called me…. pretty boy…. just to make me embarrassed.”

“I said what I meant,” you answered honestly, “though the teasing was a benefit.”

Your boyfriend continued to pout at you, “I hate you.”

“You love me,” you reminded him, “Otherwise you wouldn’t feel so embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” he huffed, rolling his eyes, “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

And damn him, because now you were the one left a blushing mess.

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ts19009 · 23 days ago

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A Recipe for Us I Part 1 | KMG

pairing: kim mingyu x reader/oc genre: angst, fluff, smut, coworkers-to-lovers, mean!oc, soft!niceguy!gyu, chef's(oui oui) warnings: NO SMUT IN THIS PART!! explicit unprotected sex, sexual innuendos, oral sex (female receiving), etc. words: 22,426

summary: When Mingyu joins the kitchen staff at one of the city's most esteemed restaurants, he expects long hours, high expectations, and the thrill of doing what he loves. What he doesn't expect is Y/N L/N—sharp, efficient, and utterly uninterested in small talk. Where Mingyu is warm and expressive, Y/N is all business, focused solely on keeping everything running smoothly. Their personalities clash from the start, but as they navigate the pressures of the restaurant world, unexpected challenges force them to rely on each other in ways neither anticipated. Slowly, between late-night shifts and shared moments in the chaos of the kitchen, they begin to see each other differently. But with ambition, personal struggles, and unspoken fears standing in the way, will they learn to meet in the middle, or will their differences keep them apart?

The scent of seared butter and fresh herbs clung to the air, you could smell the delicious food from about a block away, but all Mingyu focused on was not messing up on his first day at his new job in a fancy New York restaurant. He had memorized the entire menu the night before, even down to the plating of each dish, but looking at the demo that one of his co-workers was doing for him, he couldn’t remember a single thing he prepared.

“Do you have any questions?” his co-worker asked.

Mingyu glanced at his name tag, Joshua, before shaking his head. “No, I understand. Thanks Joshua.”

Joshua nodded and stepped aside for him to take his spot in the kitchen. “Alright then, we open in a little under an hour. So if you want to start with some prep before the dinner rush, that's what the big boss advises,”

Mingyu glanced at the clock. 4:15. The restaurant opens at five. Forty-five minutes to get his shit together.

Without wasting time, he grabbed a rag and started wiping down the counters he’d be using, then moved on to cleaning a few used pans he knew he’d need. He had just started organizing his station when the sound of heels clicking against the tile caught his attention.

"You're in my way."

The voice was sharp, cool, and to the point. Mingyu turned, wiping his hands on his apron as he came face to face with a woman who looked just as sharp as her tone—dark brown hair pulled back, eyes scanning him like he was already a problem.

Joshua, seemingly unfazed, smirked as he stepped past them. "Ah, right. Mingyu, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Mingyu—our new chef."

Y/N didn’t acknowledge the introduction, her focus locked on Mingyu as she crossed her arms. "If you're done scrubbing, move. I need that counter."

Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes as she set down the ingredients she had been carrying. Without hesitation, she got to work—peeling, chopping, and moving with practiced efficiency. Mingyu lingered for a moment, watching the way her hands moved swiftly, like she had done this a thousand times before.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you actually going to work?" she asked, not even looking up as she sliced through a carrot.

Mingyu snapped out of his daze, clearing his throat as he turned back to his station. Alright then. Game on.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, rolling back his shoulders before grabbing a knife. "Relax, I was just admiring the technique," he said, setting a cutting board in place. "Didn’t realize speed-chopping was a personality trait."

Y/N scoffed and reached over him to grab another carrot. "Not a personality trait, but the art of chopping is something you lose if you don’t practice."

Mingyu arched his brow but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a carrot from her pile and started slicing, matching her pace. The steady rhythm of their knives hitting the cutting boards filled the space between them—sharp, precise, and unspoken competition hanging in the air.

Y/N barely spared him a glance. "Try to keep up."

Mingyu smirked, the challenge lighting something in his chest. "I was about to say the same to you."

Y/N let out a small huff, but her hands didn’t falter, slicing through the vegetables with effortless precision. "Confidence is cute," she muttered, eyes focused on her cutting board, "but we’ll see if you can still keep up when the real rush starts."

As the rest of the hour flew by, the only sound between them was the rhythmic chopping of knives against wood, neither of them speaking a word. They were so focused on outdoing the other that when the restaurant finally opened to the public, neither of them had noticed.

"Shit," Y/N muttered, reaching for another carrot, only to realize they had sliced every last one. Her eyes darted up to the clock, and she cursed again. 5:10.Y/N grabbed her bowl of carrots without sparing another glance at Mingyu and briskly made her way to a different work station, the sharp click of her shoes echoing as she moved. Mingyu watched her go, feeling the sudden shift in the air, and for a moment, he stood there, alone. The kitchen buzzed with activity as the dinner rush kicked in, but Mingyu was left with his station and the pile of dishes he had yet to start.

He exhaled, shaking off the moment. "Guess it’s just me, then."

“How was your first day?” Wonwoo, Mingyu’s roommate, asked glancing over at Mingyu as they settled into the couch, the familiar opening credits of Breaking Bad starting to play. It was a tradition they had almost every night—something to unwind after a long day.

“Long,” Mingyu sighed, “very long. But I didn’t mess anything up so that’s good.” Wonwoo chuckled, patting him on the shoulder.

“Did you make any friends at all? You’re pretty charismatic.”

Mingyu nodded, “yeah. The guy who gave me the demo, Joshua, is pretty cool. We talked a bit after work,” He paused, the image of Y/N still fresh in his mind. He wondered if he should bring up his interaction with her, but something held him back.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the hesitation. "And?"

Mingyu shrugged, “there is this one woman…. Y/N.” He hesitates again. “She’s pretty intense. Pushed me away from my workstation, can chop things at the speed of light, just gives off this standoffish energy. Doesn’t really give you the time of day unless you're doing something right.”

“Sounds like she’s your match in the kitchen though,” Wonwoo pointed out, “you’ve always been the fastest in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, but I’m not an asshole in the kitchen,” Mingyu paused, realizing how harsh that sounded. “Sorry. I think I’m just tired and worked up.”

Wonwoo shrugged, used to Mingyu’s mood swings. “No problem, first day’s are always rough. You’ll figure it out,” he smiled, giving Mingyu another pat on the back. As the rest of the night went by, Mingyu tried to focus on the show, but he couldn’t help but feel bothered about what Wonwoo had said.

It was true—Mingyu was a little intimidated by you. The way you moved in the kitchen, so confident and precise, made him feel like he was still figuring things out, even though he had years of experience. And if he was being honest with himself, he was upset that he wasn’t the best chef in the kitchen anymore. He’d always prided himself on his speed and skill, but today, it felt like someone else had taken that spot.

After the show ended, Wonwoo stretched and stood up, claiming he had to wake up early in the morning. But Mingyu knew better. He shot him a look, watching as Wonwoo grabbed his phone. "You're not fooling anyone," Mingyu teased.

Wonwoo flashed him a grin. "I’ll be up for a while. You know, video games and all."

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. "Goodnight, man."

With a sigh, he leaned back on the couch, his mind replaying the day’s events—mostly thoughts of you. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him to you, or why it bothered him so much that you didn’t seem to care about him at all, but he couldn’t help feeling like there was more to this rivalry than just speed in the kitchen.

Mingyu made his way to their kitchen and got out a knife, cutting board and a bag of carrots.

“Alright, let’s see if I can keep up.” Mingyu muttered to himself as he grabbed his knife and started cutting. Carrots, potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes—almost every piece of produce they had in the kitchen found its way onto his cutting board. He chopped tirelessly, his focus narrowing down to just the rhythm of the knife hitting the cutting board, the sound of the blade slicing through the vegetables, and the steady pace he forced himself to maintain.

For hours, he worked in silence, his hands moving automatically, each slice more precise than the last. He wasn’t satisfied with anything less than perfection, and if his performance faltered for even a second, he would stop, reset, and start again. There was no room for hesitation—only improvement.

The pile of chopped vegetables grew, his pace quickening with each repetition, and the sting in his shoulders from the constant motion started to fade as his body adjusted to the rhythm.

By the time he cut his last carrot, the kitchen was eerily quiet, and the only light left was the faint glow of the refrigerator. His hands ached, his eyes were heavy, and the exhaustion was starting to settle in like a weight he couldn’t shake. He glanced at the clock—2:57 AM.

A tired laugh escaped him as he leaned back against the counter, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He had spent hours cutting, trying to reach that elusive perfect rhythm, and now he was paying for it.

"Great. I’ve got, what, four hours of sleep before the next shift?"

His mind drifted to the job waiting for him at the bar, where he would have to juggle drinks, manage customers, and keep his energy up. He had always worked hard, but today felt different. He could still hear the steady chopping in his head, still see the focused look on Y/N’s face as she moved through the kitchen, and somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had something to prove.

With a grunt, Mingyu cleaned up, packing away the vegetables and wiping down the counter. He dragged his feet to the couch, collapsing into it. But as he closed his eyes, a small smile tugged at his lips. Despite the exhaustion, he had never felt more driven.

He was going to make her like him—or, if not like him, then at least respect him.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was the idea of earning that respect—the kind of respect that could only come from someone who had no patience for mediocrity. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to do it, but he’d find a way.

“Can you do the beef wellington tonight?” Joshua asked Mingyu, rushing into the kitchen, still tying his apron around his waist. His usual calm demeanor was replaced by a slight panic.

“Yeah, is Jeonghan not here?” Mingyu asked, noticing Joshua’s flustered state and the way he quickly moved around the kitchen, trying to get organized.

“Yeah, he called in sick about twenty minutes ago. We’re gonna be a little short tonight.” Joshua’s voice was tight with urgency.

Mingyu took a deep breath, glancing at the clock. The dinner rush was about to hit, and now he had two dishes to manage. “Got it. I’ll take care of the Wellington.”

Y/N entered the kitchen just as Joshua rushed off, her expression unreadable but her eyes scanning the space. Mingyu was already moving to his station, pulling out the beef, puff pastry, and mushrooms, his mind shifting gears as he mentally prepared for the complexity of the dish. The fish and chips were straightforward, but the Wellington demanded his full attention.

“What’s going on?” Y/N’s voice was low, but there was a sharpness in it, like she was trying to figure out what chaos she was about to walk into.

Mingyu glanced at her, hands already moving. “Jeonghan called in sick. I’m taking over the Wellington.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to the beef Wellington station, then back to him. “You sure you can handle both? The fish and chips and that?” Her tone wasn’t dismissive, but there was something almost like a challenge in it.

Mingyu smirked, a flicker of competition lighting up in his chest. “I can handle it. You got your hands full with your station?”

Y/N's lips quirked, but her expression remained cool. “I’m fine. Just don’t mess up the Wellington, Mingyu.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice, but also an edge of seriousness.

She moved to her station, but Mingyu could feel her eyes on him for a moment longer, studying his movements. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in his abilities—it was more like she was waiting for him to slip up, to show that he couldn’t juggle both tasks.

Mingyu tightened his grip on the knife, taking a deep breath. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

As the night went on, Y/N kept a close eye on Mingyu, her sharp gaze never straying too far from his station. But Mingyu, busy juggling both the fish and chips and the delicate beef Wellington, barely had a moment to even glance at her. He was on his feet the entire night, moving from one task to the next without pause, and by the time the dinner rush had come to an end, the adrenaline faded, and the weight of the shift hit him. He was sweaty, exhausted, and his apron was soaked through, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of the work.

"Wow, Mingyu," Y/N said, walking over to him as she handed him a cloth to wipe off the sweat from his forehead. Her face was as neutral as ever, no smile, but the praise in her voice didn’t go unnoticed. "You did well tonight."

Mingyu let out a long sigh of relief, his shoulders dropping for the first time all night. He accepted the towel with a small smile, the weight of the night beginning to settle into his bones. "Thanks. Do I sound crazy if I say that I kind of love the rush?"

Y/N didn’t answer immediately, her gaze softening just slightly. She looked out across the kitchen for a moment, then met his eyes again. "No," she said, a small glimmer of something that might’ve been a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I love the rush too. It’s good to know someone else also loves the dinner rush instead of hiding out in the storage room."

Mingyu chuckled at that, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "I mean, I can see how hiding out might be tempting. But it feels like the heart of the kitchen, y’know?"

Y/N’s lips twitched, and for a brief second, Mingyu thought she might actually smile. But instead, she just nodded, her demeanor still calm and collected. "Exactly. We don’t get much time to breathe, but that’s what makes it worth it."

He was about to respond when Joshua popped in to check on the team, but as the night wound down and the kitchen started to clear, Mingyu realized that he was genuinely glad he had this moment with her. Not just for the work, but for the unspoken understanding between them.

There was still a lot to prove, but tonight, he felt like he might be on the right path.

Mingyu’s body was tired. Between working until ten at night in the kitchen, practicing his cooking on the side, and bartending during the day, he was walking a fine line. His mind buzzed with the constant juggling of responsibilities, and his muscles ached in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He had picked up his bartending job about a year ago, just when he was still searching for a restaurant job that would let him show what he was truly capable of. The bartending gig paid well enough to cover his rent and basic expenses, but it wasn’t where his heart was. It wasn’t what he loved.

The clink of glasses, the long hours of standing behind a bar, and the repetitive motions of pouring drinks didn’t compare to the thrill he felt when he was in the kitchen, crafting dishes, creating something with his hands. The passion he felt for food was undeniable.

He hadn’t quit his bartending job yet, though. There was a level of security it provided, and even though it wasn’t his dream, it kept him afloat while he tried to make a name for himself in the restaurant world. Still, with every shift that passed, his desire to leave it behind grew stronger. His dream was never meant to be behind a bar—it was in a kitchen, where he could cook the way he wanted to, push himself further, and truly focus on his craft.

But the reality of bills and rent loomed large. And though he kept telling himself that someday he’d take the plunge and quit, it felt like it might take longer than he’d like.

So the last thing Mingyu had expected was for Y/N to come and sit down in front of him at his bartending job.

“Y/N?” He asked, pausing his current task of cleaning glasses. His mind was still trying to wrap around the idea that Y/N, the woman who he had spent hours working with in the kitchen, was now sitting in front of him at the bar.

“A dirty martini, please,” Y/N said, her voice sounding a little more tired than usual as she sighed, throwing her purse onto the bar and wrapping her coat tighter around herself. Mingyu glanced around the bar, briefly checking to see if she was with anyone else, but it was just the two of you. His confusion deepened, and he looked back at her, still not sure why she was here.

“Hello? Mingyu?” She said again, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Mingyu blinked, clearing his throat as he quickly moved to prepare the drink. “Sorry. Didn’t expect you to—uh—be here,” he stammered, grabbing a glass and starting the martini with practiced motions. He didn’t want to admit how strange it felt, seeing herhere, in this setting. The last place he expected to run into her was at a bar, especially after spending hours with her in the kitchen.

As he poured the gin and vermouth, he glanced up at her again, still trying to piece together why her, of all people, would end up here, at his bartending job of all places. “

“Are you alright?” Mingyu asked, placing the glass in front of her with a cautious glance. His brow furrowed as he studied her for a moment, trying to figure out what brought her to his bar, but also noticing something different in the way she was sitting. She didn’t seem like your usual confident, work-oriented self.

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she picked up the glass and took a long, deliberate sip of her martini, the silence between the two of them growing heavier with each passing second.

Mingyu waited, his fingers drumming softly on the bar, as he tried to gauge her mood. He knew she was usually reserved, but tonight, she seemed... distant. Not the usual standoffish energy, but something else. Something more subdued.

He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Y/N? What’s going on?” He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to ask, but seeing you like this—quiet, contemplative, and not the usual sharp-witted version of yourself—stirred something in him.

She sighed, putting down her drink with a frustrated motion. "I just found out that Joshua got the promotion at the restaurant." You almost hissed the words, your irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, I just... I thought I was going to get it."

Mingyu winced, understanding exactly what she were feeling. He had been in her shoes before—putting in the hours, the effort, only to watch someone else get the recognition you felt you earned. He couldn’t help but offer her a little smile, even if he didn’t have the right words to make it better.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice sincere.

She scoffed, running a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated with herself. “I sound like a bitch,” she muttered, looking down at her drink as if it could provide some kind of answer.

Mingyu shook his head gently, leaning against the bar. “No, you don’t.” He paused for a second before continuing, his tone calm but firm. “You’re just frustrated. It’s normal to feel that way.”

There was a brief silence between the two of them, the kind that felt a little more comfortable than it should. He could see the conflict in her eyes, the way she was wrestling with her pride and the disappointment. He wasn’t sure why she was opening up to him of all people, but in a strange way, it felt right.

“In my defense, I didn’t know you worked here during the day,” she shrugged, “thanks for the drink.” She said, reaching into her bag for a bill.

“It’s okay, it’s on the house,” Mingyu interrupted.

“I don’t want you to pity me Mingyu,” she said, as Mingyu held up his hands in defense.

“No pity here. Everyone deserves a free drink now and then,” he smiled as she sighed and nodded. Sliding off the seat and grabbing her purse.

“Thank you,” she smiled for the first time, “see you tonight.”

Mingyu watched as Y/N disappeared through the door, the faintest trace of her smile still lingering in his mind. He glanced down at the twenty-dollar bill in his tip jar and huffed out a quiet laugh. "Figures."

She was stubborn, that much was clear. But for the first time, he saw something past the sharp edges—just a glimpse.

Shaking his head, he tucked the bill away and got back to work, but the night suddenly felt a little less exhausting.

“So do you like her?” Wonwoo asked Mingyu as they both sat down to start their show. Mingyu sighed, but neither confirmed nor denied having feelings for you. Wonwoo gasped and hit Mingyu on the shoulder, “dude it’s been like a week!”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “I’m not going to profess my love for her on the side of the streets if that’s what you mean, but yeah, I like our banter.”

Wonwoo chuckled and shrugged, “I mean, I get it.”

“You do?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow, glancing at his friend.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo said, stretching his legs out on the couch. “She’s got that whole ‘mysterious, intimidating, secretly cool’ vibe going on. And you? You love a challenge.”

Mingyu scoffed, sinking deeper into the cushions. “I don’t love a challenge.”

Wonwoo shot him a knowing look.

Mingyu groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. Maybe a little.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “When was the last time you were in an actual long-term relationship? Sophomore year of college with that girl, Lily?”

Mingyu nodded, exhaling through his nose. Lily had been in his fine arts program. They’d spent most of their freshman year taking the same classes, bonding over late-night study sessions and cheap takeout. They had only dated for their sophomore summer and about half of the next semester before Mingyu ended it. It had been easy, comfortable—but it wasn’t love, and he knew that. Still, it was the last official relationship he’d had since.

“That was, what, four years ago?” Wonwoo asked, raising an eyebrow. “Man, you’re overdue.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a relationship. I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, busy avoiding anything serious,” Wonwoo teased, tossing a pillow at him. “Come on, man. You’re all about work, and now there’s finally someone who can match you step for step in the kitchen. Tell me that doesn’t get to you.”

Mingyu scoffed, catching the pillow and tossing it aside. “It doesn’t.”

Wonwoo gave him a knowing look. “Right. That’s why you’ve been practicing your chopping like a madman and overanalyzing every single interaction you have with her. All I’m saying is that you’re different and that maybe you're ready for a relationship instead of the flings and hookups you're notorious for.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to argue but hesitated. Because, as much as he hated to admit it… Wonwoo wasn’t wrong.

Mingyu arrived at the restaurant early, telling himself it was just to get a head start. It definitely wasn’t because he was hoping to see Y/N before the rush started.

To his surprise, she was already there, standing by the prep station, sleeves rolled up as she sliced through a pile of onions with effortless speed. The kitchen was quieter than usual, just the steady rhythm of her knife hitting the cutting board.

“You always get here this early?” Mingyu asked, setting his bag down.

“Someone has to make sure things are done right,” Y/N said without looking up. “And you? I figured you’d be getting your last few minutes of beauty sleep.”

Mingyu smirked. “Didn’t sleep much.”

At that, she finally glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Thinking about me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I spent all night dreaming about your knife skills.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll learn something,” she said, smirking slightly before returning to her work.

Despite the banter, Mingyu could tell she was still tense. He wasn’t sure if it was about last night or if the promotion news was still weighing on her. Either way, she was working harder than usual, her movements precise but a little too forceful, like she was trying to take out her frustration on the vegetables.

Mingyu grabbed a knife and stepped beside her. “Want some help?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Never said you did.”

She hesitated for just a second before sighing and nudging a pile of carrots toward him. “Fine. Make yourself useful.”

They worked in silence for a while, their knives moving in sync. The tension in Y/N’s shoulders slowly eased, and Mingyu found himself watching her—just little things, like the way she chewed on her lip when she concentrated or the way she always wiped her hands on her apron twice before moving to the next task.

After a while, he finally spoke. “You know, you don’t have to pretend you’re over it.”

Y/N froze for just a fraction of a second before continuing. “Over what?”

“The promotion.”

She let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t have time to sulk about things I can’t change.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then, finally, she sighed. “Yeah. It does.”

Mingyu glanced at her, watching the way her fingers tensed around the knife handle. “You should’ve gotten it.”

Y/N looked up at him then, studying him like she was trying to figure out if he really meant it. After a beat, she exhaled. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And for the first time since he started working here, Mingyu felt like maybe—just maybe—he was starting to figure Y/N out.

The rest of the night passed in a quiet sort of tension. The dinner rush was relentless, and with Jeonghan still out sick, Mingyu had to keep up with both his stations. Yet, for the first time since he started, Y/N didn’t look at him like she was ready to snap. There was something different in her gaze—less guarded, maybe even a little approving. He couldn’t quite place it, but it was a shift he appreciated.

They didn’t speak much, both of them fully absorbed in their work, the rhythm of the kitchen humming around them. But every so often, their eyes would meet, and in those brief moments, there was a quiet understanding. No words needed.

As the end of the night came and all the customers had left it was just Joshua, Mingyu, and Y/N.

“Hey Y/N?” Joshua asked, causing Mingyu to lift his head from his station. He wasn’t sure how this interaction was going to go, especially in your state.

“I know that we were both up for the promotion and I just wanted to say that I’m glad that it was you. You really gave me a run for my money.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered, her expression unreadable for a moment. It was a sentiment she hadn’t been expecting, especially not from him. After all, she had been the one who lost out.

“Thanks,” she said, her tone steady but with a hint of something Mingyu couldn’t quite place. As Joshua made his exit, giving them both a polite wave, the silence in the kitchen grew heavier. Y/N finished tidying up her station with mechanical precision, the hum of the restaurant's closing rituals surrounding them. Mingyu stood nearby, cleaning his own area, but his attention kept flickering toward her, unsure of whether to break the silence or not.

He wanted to say something—anything—but he wasn’t sure what would be appropriate. He had seen a side of Y/N that was rare, something raw and unfiltered, and it made him hesitate. He didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing, especially when it felt like she had just let her guard down.

After a long, quiet moment, Mingyu finally spoke up, keeping his voice light. “You know, you handled that pretty well,” he said, his words tentative. “Not everyone would be that gracious.”

Y/N glanced at him for a brief second, her face unreadable. She didn't respond right away, her hands moving with practiced ease as she wiped down the counters.

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat things,” she finally said, her voice a little softer. “I was pissed at first. But… I’m not gonna drag it out. I’m just trying to figure out how to move forward.”

Mingyu nodded, understanding that it wasn’t just about the promotion—it was about what came with it. The expectations, the disappointments, the constant push to be better.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” he added, offering a small grin, “you’re still the fastest chopper I know.”

Y/N’s lips twitched at that, a hint of a smile forming before she quickly wiped it away. “Thanks, Mingyu,” she said quietly, the tension between them starting to dissolve, even if only for a moment.

The two of them continued cleaning in silence, but now, there was an unspoken understanding that lingered, one that felt like it could lead to something better.

As they finished up cleaning the last of the kitchen, Y/N hesitated for a moment, wiping down the counter slowly. She glanced at Mingyu, who was putting away his station. The lingering silence between them felt different now, less heavy.

"Hey, Mingyu," she said, her voice just a little uncertain. "You want to grab a drink or something? I know you’re probably exhausted, but I could use a drink after tonight. And maybe... I don’t know, just a break from all the chaos." She raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the invitation casual but sincere.

Mingyu paused, surprised by the offer. He’d been expecting another quiet night, but something about the way she said it made him feel like this was more than just a casual invitation.

"Uh, sure," he replied, surprised at how easy it was to say yes. "I could use one too." He flashed her a small smile. "Let’s go."

Y/N nodded, her face softening as she grabbed her bag and slipped her apron off. "Alright, let's go," she said, leading the way out of the kitchen and toward the door. "It’s been one of those nights, right?"

Mingyu laughed softly as he followed her out, a feeling of unexpected relief settling over him. "You have no idea."

Mingyu glanced at her and smirked. “Cold?”

Y/N shot him a look, tugging her coat tighter around herself. “No, I always walk like I’m trying to survive a snowstorm.”

He chuckled, pushing open the door to the bar and letting her step in first. The warmth inside was immediate, the low hum of music and chatter making the space feel cozy.

“You pick the spot,” Mingyu said, nodding toward the booths near the back.

Y/N scanned the room before leading the way. “Since when are you so agreeable?”

Mingyu grinned as he followed. “Since I somehow managed to get you to willingly spend more time with me.

”She let out a small scoff, tugging her coat tighter around herself to hide the slight blush creeping up her cheeks. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she muttered, but there was no real bite to her words.

As they reached the far end of the bar, Mingyu leaned against the counter and flagged down the bartender, a playful glint in his eyes. “Two surprise drinks, please,” he said confidently, flashing a grin in Y/N’s direction. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, curiosity flickering across her face as she settled onto a stool.

“Are you trying to poison me to take my spot in Mingyu?” Mingyu chuckled, and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“How did you figure it out?” He joked back. Mingyu’s eyes softened as he met her gaze, the playful tension between the two hanging in the air. He wasn’t much taller than her, but enough for her to tilt her head back slightly to meet his gaze. For a moment, the two of them stood there, words unsaid, the atmosphere between them was a mix of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place.

The bartender interrupted the quiet pause, sliding two drinks across the counter. “On the house,” they said, flashing a quick smile.

She glanced at the drink, then back up at Mingyu. “If this is terrible, I’m blaming you.”

Mingyu raised his glass with a grin. “Fair enough. Cheers?”

“Cheers.” She said, as they both took a sip of the drink. It was a sweet raspberry drink, but the vodka was still prominent. “Wow,” you coughed, “did you give me raspberry battery acid?”

Mingyu smiled, but didn’t cough. “No, it’s just a vodka cranberry.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise but took another sip of her drink. A comfortable silence settled between them as they sipped their drinks, the low hum of conversation fading into the background. Onstage, a jazz band began setting up, the soft tuning of instruments signaling the start of their performance.

Y/N swirled the last sip of her drink in her glass, tapping her fingers lightly against the counter as the band settled into their first song.

Mingyu’s gaze flickered between the band and Y/N’s fingers tapping lightly against the counter, occasionally drifting up to her face. It was almost unsettling to see her this at ease—so different from the sharp, focused version of her he was used to at work.

“Something on my face?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Mingyu shook his head with a small smile. “No, just not used to seeing you this relaxed.”

Y/N shrugged, idly running her finger along the rim of her glass. “Guess there’s nothing to prove here. I can just… exist.”

Mingyu understood, but it struck him how different that was from his own experience. The kitchen was where he felt most like himself, where everything made sense. He nodded but kept that thought to himself.

Before he could say anything else his phone started ringing in his pocket.

It was Wonwoo.

He turned away from the band to answer the call, “Hello? Wonwoo? What’s up?”

“Are you coming home at all tonight? We left our show off on a cliffhanger?” Wonwoo said through the phone as Mingyu scoffed.

“You had to phone me to ask that question?”

"Yes, because you weren't answering my texts," Wonwoo shot back. "And I need to know if I should wait for you or not."

Mingyu rolled his eyes, glancing at Y/N, who was now watching him with mild amusement as she sipped her drink. “I’ll be home later,” he said. “Don’t watch without me.”

“No promises,” Wonwoo teased before hanging up.

Mingyu sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Roommate problems,” he explained, shaking his head.

Y/N smirked. “You guys sound like an old married couple.”

Mingyu chuckled and nodded, turning back to her, “we’ve been best friends since the beginning of high school. Ten years of friendship can do that to you.”

Y/N hummed in understanding, swirling the last bit of her drink in her glass. “That’s impressive. Not everyone keeps their high school friends that long.”

Mingyu shrugged. “Yeah, but Wonwoo’s basically family at this point. We’ve been through a lot together.”

She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “You’re loyal.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Is that surprising?”

Y/N smirked slightly. “A little. You don’t really strike me as the sentimental type.”

Mingyu arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. Had she really been thinking about him?

“Oh yeah? And what do I seem like to you?”

Y/N set her drink down on the bar and straightened up, locking eyes with him. “You look like the guy who had a million friends in high school but couldn’t remember half of their names. You look like the type who’d talk to anyone, but never let anyone get too close.”

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, the corner of his lips quirking up. She wasn’t exactly wrong, but it wasn’t entirely right either. He wasn’t one to keep people at arm’s length, not really. There was more to him than the surface she saw.

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, his gaze lingering on her. “I can see where you’re coming from,” he admitted, “but I’m not exactly the ‘million friends, no real connections’ type.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, “I’m more of the ‘few close ones’ kind of guy.”

He studied her expression, wondering if she was getting what he meant. There was a kind of comfort in that, he thought—the idea of keeping a tight-knit circle, knowing the people around you well. Maybe that’s what made their banter so easy, even when they weren’t on the same page.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “So, you’re telling me you’ve got some deep, meaningful friendships hidden beneath that whole ‘cool guy’ facade?” she teased.

Mingyu smiled, his eyes softening slightly. "Maybe." He glanced at her, noticing the skepticism still in her expression.

"I guess I’ll have to prove it to you then," he added with a playful challenge.

With Jeonghan finally back from his week-long sick leave, Mingyu felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he returned to his usual rhythm at work. While fish and chips weren’t exactly the most exciting dishes to prepare day after day, they were comforting, and Mingyu had grown to enjoy the simplicity and routine of making them.

In the past week, Joshua had asked Mingyu to take on a few appetizers, adding more variety to his tasks and giving him something a little more dynamic to focus on. It wasn’t much, but it was a change, and Mingyu was glad for the extra responsibility.

As he moved between stations, his mind wandered back to the conversation he’d had with Y/N the other night—her words, her teasing, and the unexpected softness in her gaze. Mingyu tried to shake it off, but the thought lingered as he chopped vegetables and prepped the next order.

Mingyu was wiping down the counter when Y/N walked by, glancing over at him with a smirk. "You know," she said, "for someone who's always so confident in the kitchen, you sure do take your time with those potatoes."

Mingyu grinned, not missing a beat. "Quality takes time. You should try it sometime."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. "If I wanted to waste time, I'd let you chop for me."

Mingyu chuckled, but before he could respond, Chan burst into the kitchen, his eyes wide with surprise. “Chwe Vernon is here!” he exclaimed, causing everyone to freeze and look at him in stunned silence.

“Who is Chwe Vernon?” Mingyu asked.

"Only one of the most well-known food critics in New York City," Joshua said, his face full of panic. "I didn’t expect him to show up tonight when we're short-staffed."

"It’s fine,"she replied confidently. "We didn’t get to be one of the best by chance."

Joshua nodded, taking a deep breath. "Alright, let’s get back to it and give it our all!”

While everyone worked, the atmosphere was charged with tension, yet underscored by a strong sense of determination and confidence.

But, of course, Chwe Vernon had to order the fish and chips—the one dish Mingyu was in charge of.

“Shit,” Mingyu muttered under his breath as he glanced at the order. The entire kitchen was already on edge, and now, with the future of the restaurant seemingly riding on the “new guy,” he could feel the weight of the pressure.

“Do you need help?” Y/N’s voice cut through his daze, snapping him back to the present.

“Uh, no.” He said, moving around, “thanks though.”

Y/N nodded, but kept a close eye on Mingyu to make sure that if he was looking overwhelmed she could at least step in to take over the other dishes he was cooking. Mingyu moved swiftly around the kitchen, his movements precise but hurried, as if he could feel every second ticking away. His hands were steady, but his mind raced with the weight of the situation. He knew the fish and chips were his to handle, but the pressure of Vernon’s presence made him feel like he had to do everything perfectly.

Y/N kept her gaze on him, noticing the slight tension in his shoulders. She didn’t say anything, just continued working at her station, but kept an ear open for any sign that he might need help. She had worked with Mingyu long enough to know when he was approaching his limit, and she wasn’t about to let him sink under the pressure alone.

The sound of sizzling oil and clattering plates filled the air as the kitchen buzzed with energy, but beneath it all, there was a shared understanding: everyone was pulling their weight, and they weren’t about to let a critic ruin their night.

Mingyu glanced over at Y/N for a brief moment, catching her watching him, but the brief exchange of glances was enough to remind him he wasn’t alone. He exhaled and focused, moving faster, but with more purpose.

By the time the dish was ready, his nerves had settled slightly, the rhythm of the kitchen grounding him. “All set,” he said, plating the fish with a flourish. Y/N gave him a small nod, signaling her approval, and Mingyu took the dish to the pass, ready to serve.

As Chan took the fish and chips out, the kitchen paused for a moment, the usual clattering of pans and sizzling oil giving way to a brief, expectant silence. The dish was perfect—crispy golden fish paired with golden fries that looked like they came straight from a Michelin-star restaurant.

“Nice work, Mingyu,” Jihoon said, slapping him lightly on the back.

Jeonghan, ever the calm presence, gave him a satisfied nod. “You handled that like a pro.”

Joshua, still a bit jittery, couldn’t hide his relief. “Seriously, you saved us tonight.”

Mingyu smiled, though it was a little more exhausted than usual. "Just doing my part," he said, wiping his hands on his apron.

But Y/N's approval was what made him feel the most at ease. She gave him a quick, approving glance as she resumed her work. She didn’t need to say anything—her silence was enough.

As the evening continued, the energy in the kitchen remained high. The rest of the team kept their focus, but the tension had started to ease. Mingyu, now confident that he had proved himself in front of Vernon, let the compliment settle in his chest.

“So you basically could have caused the whole place to go belly up?” Wonwoo asked, as Mingyu chuckled and nodded, handing him the beer and a bag of gummy worms.

“Yep, but thankfully he wrote a really good review on it. Securing our spot as the best restaurant in New York city.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, popping a gummy worm into his mouth. "Well, damn. Good thing you pulled it off then." He took a sip of his beer and leaned back in his chair, clearly impressed. "So, what's next? Are you going to try to outdo yourself next time he shows up?"

Mingyu shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Maybe. But for now, I think I'll just enjoy the fact that we survived this one." He tossed a gummy worm into his mouth, savoring the sweet, tangy taste. "I'm not sure I want that kind of pressure again anytime soon."

Wonwoo laughed, clinking his bottle against Mingyu’s. "You say that now, but we both know you thrive in the chaos."

Mingyu leaned back against the couch, absentmindedly watching the show, but his mind kept drifting back to that moment in the kitchen. Y/N’s nod of approval, the way her eyes softened when she noticed he was managing the pressure. It had caught him off guard, in the best way.

He ran a hand through his hair, not realizing how much it had meant until now. He was used to working alone, used to being the one who had to prove himself, but when she looked at him like that, it felt different—like maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

"Focus, Mingyu," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and trying to return to the show. But every time he saw an empty space on the couch, or when the music swelled in a particularly tense scene, his thoughts would inevitably go back to her. He couldn’t remember the last time something—someone—had distracted him so much.

The episode continued, but his mind was far from the plot unfolding in front of him.

“Can you just make sure that this sauce doesn’t burn while I run out just for two minutes?” Y/N asked Mingyu as he nodded, but didn’t look up from his stove. She thanked him and ran out of the kitchen into the dining room, a big smile plastered on her face.

Mingyu finally looked up and out the kitchen window to see her approaching a man and giving him a big hug. He furrowed his brows, his hands still moving on autopilot as he stirred the sauce in front of him. He wasn’t sure why he even cared, but there was something about the way Y/N lit up when she saw the guy that caught his attention. She wasn’t usually the warm and affectionate type—not at work, at least.

He turned his focus back to the stove, but curiosity got the best of him, and he stole another glance through the window. The man was tall, well-dressed, and clearly familiar with Y/N. They exchanged a few words before she laughed, her smile not fading for even a second.

Mingyu exhaled through his nose, shaking his head at himself. Get a grip, he thought, forcing his attention back to his station.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder—who was he?

A few minutes later when she came back into the kitchen, with a big smile on her face, Mingyu turned away from her, but gave her a smile when she thanked him and continued stirring the sauce.

Something inside of him didn’t like seeing her with the guy.

Mingyu didn’t know why it bothered him. It wasn’t like Y/N owed him an explanation, and it definitely wasn’t his business who she hugged in the dining room. But something about the way she had smiled at that guy—so effortlessly, so brightly—nagged at him.

Mingyu hummed, keeping his eyes on the sauce. “Who was that?” he asked, aiming for casual, though the question sat heavier in his chest than he wanted to admit.

Y/N’s smile faltered just slightly as she reached for a cutting board. “Just someone I know,” she said, her tone even but noticeably more reserved.

Mingyu nodded, pretending to accept the answer, but the way she brushed past the question only made his curiosity—and that unfamiliar, nagging feeling—grow stronger.

“Can you take on one of my dishes tonight?” Y/N asked, glancing toward the dining room before quickly looking back at Mingyu. “I just need a little time to catch up with someone.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. “Yeah, I got it,” he said, adjusting his grip on the pan.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, before slipping out of the kitchen again.

Mingyu watched her go, the uneasy feeling settling in his chest once more.His grip tightened around the spatula as he watched Y/N disappear into the dining room. His jaw clenched, irritation bubbling in his chest before he could push it down.

Of course, she wanted him to take over her dish. Of course, she needed a little extra time—for him.

He stirred the sauce a little too aggressively, barely registering the heat against his arm. It wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong, but the sight of her smiling like that, the way she’d dropped everything to rush out and greet the guy—it made something in his stomach twist uncomfortably.

It shouldn’t bother him. But it did.

Mingyu forced himself to focus on the dish in front of him, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N and the guy in the dining room. The way she’d smiled—soft, genuine—was different from the usual work-focused expression she wore in the kitchen. He had seen her smile before, sure, but not like that. Not at him.

He exhaled sharply, tossing a handful of herbs into the pan with a little too much force. It wasn’t like they were anything more than coworkers. It wasn’t like she owed him an explanation.

Still, when she finally walked back in, her expression more neutral than before, Mingyu kept his gaze locked on the stove, stirring just to keep his hands busy. The irritation hadn’t fully settled, but he wasn’t about to let it show. Not when he wasn’t even sure why he felt this way in the first place.

"Who pissed in your cereal?" Dino asked, grabbing the dish Mingyu had just finished preparing. He’d been watching him for a while and had noticed the shift in his mood—tense, brooding, more clipped than usual.

"Nothing," Mingyu shot back, barely looking up. "Just busy."

Dino rolled his eyes but didn’t push it, taking the dish out to the dining room without another word.

Across the kitchen, Jeonghan leaned against his station, arms crossed. "Is this about Y/N?" he asked, his tone casual but knowing. It was one of the first times they'd really spoken, but Jeonghan had clearly been paying attention.

Mingyu's jaw tightened as he kept his focus on the pan in front of him, the sizzle of oil filling the silence between them.

"Why would it be about Y/N?" he muttered, flicking his wrist to turn the fish, his movements a little sharper than necessary.

Jeonghan smirked, unbothered. "I don't know. Maybe because you've been scowling ever since she ran off to see her friend?" He dragged out the last word just enough to make his point clear.

Mingyu didn’t respond right away, just exhaled through his nose. "I don’t care what she does," he finally said, though even to his own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

"Right," Jeonghan hummed, clearly not buying it. "You should tell your face that, then."

Mingyu scoffed, shaking his head as he plated the dish in front of him. "Drop it, Jeonghan."

Jeonghan only chuckled, leaning against his station as he lazily chopped herbs. "Look, I get it," he said, his voice just low enough that no one else could hear. "You two have been getting along more lately, and now she's smiling like that at some other guy. Stings a little, doesn't it?"

Mingyu gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the pan handle. "I said drop it."

Jeonghan shrugged, unfazed. "Fine, fine. Just don’t overcook the fish while you’re brooding."

Mingyu shot him a glare, but Jeonghan was already turning back to his own work, smirking to himself.

Still, the words stuck with him.

Because no matter how much he told himself it didn’t matter, that she didn’t matter—he couldn’t shake the image of her smile, the way she’d rushed out without a second thought, like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

And for some stupid reason, that bothered him way more than it should.

The kitchen had finally quieted down, the last orders sent out and the rush of service fading into the usual end-of-shift routine. Mingyu scrubbed down his station with more force than necessary, trying to work off the frustration still lingering in his chest.

He could hear Y/N laughing with Joshua near the back, their voices light and easy. He didn’t even have to look to know she was still in a good mood from earlier.

He should just go home. Clock out, grab his stuff, and pretend today never happened.

But instead, he found himself lingering, waiting for a reason to speak to her—or maybe just for her to acknowledge him first.

“Thanks for covering for me today,” Y/N called from across the kitchen.

Mingyu sighed before turning to face her, forcing a small smile.

“No problem,” he muttered.

Y/N exhaled, clearly picking up on his frustration.

“I know you’ve been wondering who he is.”

Mingyu froze for a moment. She wasn’t wrong—he did want to know.

Mingyu leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he stared at her. "I wasn’t exactly curious," he replied, his tone barely masking the irritation. "Just... surprised."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You sure about that?" She stepped closer, studying his expression with a knowing look.

Mingyu sighed, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "I don’t like feeling out of the loop." He tried to brush it off with a casual shrug. "It’s not a big deal."

She tilted her head, looking at him more closely. "You sure it’s not?"

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting back to his station as he refocused on his work. But there was a lingering tension in the air. "It’s just weird," he muttered. "You don’t usually bring people in like that."

Y/N stayed silent for a moment, clearly thinking through her response. Then she finally spoke, softer than before. "It’s complicated."

Mingyu glanced over at her, curiosity tugging at him despite himself. "Complicated how?" he asked, before quickly adding, "Never mind. It’s not my business."

She studied him for a moment, the weight of her silence speaking volumes. Then she nodded slowly. "Yeah. It’s better left at that."

There was a slight awkwardness between them, but neither pushed further. Mingyu returned to his work, his thoughts swirling, while Y/N lingered for a beat longer before heading back to her station. The conversation had ended, but the questions remained.

As Mingyu walked home, the cool night air did little to clear his head. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest—the guilt of pushing into Y/N’s business when he had no right to. He had let his own feelings get the better of him, and now he wondered if he had overstepped.

She hadn’t seemed angry, but the way she had shut down at the end of their conversation stuck with him. Maybe he should’ve just let it go instead of prying. Maybe it wasn’t about him at all.

With a sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking, hoping that by the time he got home, the guilt would settle. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t.

As Y/N walked home, the night air felt heavier than usual. She wrapped her arms around herself, not from the cold, but from the lingering weight of her conversation with Mingyu.

She knew he had wanted to know who her friend was. She had seen the tension in his jaw, the way he barely met her eyes when he muttered, No problem. And yet, part of her had held back—not because she wanted to keep secrets, but because she wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to him.

Did he think she owed him an explanation? Or was it something else?

Her thoughts twisted in circles, frustration creeping in. She hadn’t done anything wrong, but for some reason, guilt still tugged at her. Maybe it was because, despite everything, a part of her had wanted to reassure him. To tell him outright that there was nothing for him to be upset about.

But she hadn’t. Instead, she had let the silence stretch between them, unsure of what it meant.

She had felt guilty—though she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she had done anything wrong. She had every right to step away for a few minutes, to see an old friend, to ask for a little help. But the way Mingyu had reacted, the stiffness in his voice, the way he barely looked at her—it unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

Maybe it was because she had seen the flicker of something in his expression before he turned away. Disappointment? Annoyance? Jealousy? She didn’t know, and that uncertainty sat heavy in her chest.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she walked. If he had just asked, she wouldn’t have minded telling him. But he didn’t—he just pulled away, leaving an awkward tension lingering between them. Now, instead of settling whatever was left unsaid, they were both stuck in this uncomfortable silence, neither willing to be the first to break it.

It was another chaotic evening, and the kitchen buzzed with energy. Orders were flying in faster than they could be prepared, and the atmosphere was tense. Mingyu worked quickly, flipping the fish just right, his mind focused on the task at hand. He didn’t expect the night to be this busy, but he could feel the heat in the air as the orders kept coming in.

Just as he thought he had a handle on things, he saw Y/N near the counter, trying to juggle multiple orders at once. She looked at him with a quiet intensity, a subtle but unmistakable look of frustration in her eyes. Mingyu knew she hated showing that side of herself, especially during a rush, but it was clear she was feeling the pressure.

The air was thick with the sounds of sizzling pans, the clinking of plates, and the hurried chatter of the kitchen staff, but Mingyu’s attention was fixed on Y/N. For a split second, their eyes locked, and in that brief moment, something shifted. Without a word, she moved toward him.

“Can you cover the scallops for me while I take care of this?” Y/N’s voice was calm, but there was a hint of urgency underneath. She wasn’t asking, she was telling.

Mingyu didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said, his voice steady as he grabbed a pan to sear the delicate scallops. He gently placed them in the hot pan, the sizzle filling the air as the scallops started to brown on the outside.

Y/N didn’t need to explain further. She was already moving, her focus laser-sharp as she worked to keep up with the rest of the orders. Mingyu’s eyes followed her for a moment before he turned back to the stove. He carefully spooned the rich lemon herb butter sauce over the perfectly seared scallops and plated the dish with finesse. The mashed potatoes were smooth and creamy with a subtle hint of truffle, and the asparagus, delicately sautéed with almonds, added a perfect crunch.

As the orders came in, they found a rhythm together, an unspoken understanding between them. When Y/N needed him to grab a plate or set aside an ingredient, he did so without thinking. When Mingyu needed a hand with the finishing touches on the plate, Y/N was there, seamlessly working alongside him without a word of complaint.

For a brief moment, there was no tension between them. It was just the two of them, working together in the heat of the kitchen, and for the first time in days, Mingyu felt a flicker of something familiar—a connection. They had done this before, back when they were still learning the ropes together. But now, it was different. There was something in the way their movements aligned, in the way they read each other’s actions without needing to speak.

The orders slowed down, and the kitchen staff began to relax, each person taking a deep breath as the chaos began to settle. Mingyu wiped his brow, looking up to find Y/N already glancing in his direction. Her lips twitched in a small, appreciative smile.

“You did good,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Thanks for covering me.”

Mingyu nodded, feeling the weight of the night lift off his shoulders. “Of course,” he replied, though something in his chest tightened at the sincerity in her words. There was no tension, no hesitation. It was just teamwork. And for the first time in a while, he realized that working with her didn’t just feel like a task—it felt like they were in sync.

As the kitchen settled down the usual clattering of utensils and sizzling pans had a softer edge to it, almost as if the energy in the room had settled. Mingyu was trying to keep himself busy, getting ready for the end of the day, but his mind kept drifting back to the conversation he had with Y/N yesterday. The tension between them had been so palpable, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that lingered after he’d let his jealousy slip through. He didn’t want to mess things up, especially not now.

He glanced over to her, and as if on cue, Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time that morning. There was a brief moment of silence, before she wiped her hands on a towel and walked over.

“I, uh, I wanted to talk about yesterday,” she began, her voice uncharacteristically cautious. She looked at him, trying to gauge his reaction, and Mingyu immediately felt the weight of her gaze.

Mingyu set down the knife he had been using to chop vegetables, his expression softening. He could feel the heaviness between them too. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. I didn’t mean to... make you feel like I was crossing a line.”

Y/N paused, glancing down at the counter. “It’s not that. I just…” She trailed off for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I guess I didn’t like how I made you feel. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

Mingyu frowned, his hands instinctively clenching around the edge of the counter. “I know you didn’t,” he said quietly. “But I... I didn’t like the way I acted either. I shouldn’t have said what I did. You’re allowed to have your friends here, and I should have respected that.” He took a deep breath, his eyes briefly flickering to the side. “I guess I was just jealous. But that’s not an excuse for being a jerk.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I get that. It’s just... I don't really know how to balance everything sometimes.” She lifted her hands as if to emphasize her words. “You know? Work, friends, everything else. Sometimes I put all of that above what’s actually important to me.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to explain. I get it more than you think.”

Y/N glanced at him, a little surprised by his response. She gave a small, reluctant smile. “You do, don’t you?”

Mingyu smiled back, though it was a little more hesitant than usual. “Yeah. I do.” He paused for a moment, then added, “And... I’m sorry for pushing. I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

There was a small silence between them as the words settled. Y/N took a deep breath, pushing back the tension that had been building over the last day. “I appreciate that,” she said softly. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have let it get to that point.”

Mingyu gave a nod, a sense of relief washing over him. It wasn’t fixed yet, but it felt like they were on the right track. “So... friends?” he asked, his voice light, trying to ease the air.

Mingyu nodded, his smile a little tighter than usual, though he was glad to see the tension easing between them. “Yeah. Friends,” he echoed, but as the words left his mouth, something in him clenched.

It wasn’t that he was unhappy to be friends with Y/N. No, he appreciated their dynamic. She was smart, capable, and had a way of seeing things that made him respect her more than anyone else in the kitchen. But the way she said it, so casually, as if there was no possibility of anything more... It made something stir in him, a flicker of frustration he hadn’t realized was there until now.

As she turned away to handle something on the counter, Mingyu’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than he intended. He tried to shake it off, focusing back on the work in front of him, but it wasn’t that easy. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he wanted something else—something more than just this platonic, professional relationship.

He’d spent enough time with her to know that she was someone he could trust, someone who didn’t make him feel like he had to put on a front. But as much as he wanted to be close to her, something about the way she spoke about them being “friends” made him feel like maybe he’d just been placed in a box he didn’t know how to escape from.

Mingyu was tired of being just the guy she shared a laugh with in the kitchen or the guy who covered for her when she needed a break. He wanted to be someone she could rely on, yes—but more than that. He wanted to be the one who made her smile in a way that wasn’t just professional. The one she’d call outside of work, the one she’d want to spend time with after a busy shift.

But for now, he was stuck. Stuck in the friend zone.

As much as he tried to push the thought away, it lingered, a gnawing feeling in his chest. He could deal with being just friends... for now. But he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending he didn’t want more.

“Is that the guy that you’ve been talking about?” Y/N’s best friend Yuna asked, shoving her phone into Y/N’s face as she blinked, trying to adjust her eyes, before looking at the picture of Mingyu in his chef clothes.

“Yeah, that’s Mingyu.”

“Bitch, why didn’t you tell me he was hot!” Yuna exclaimed, as Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ve been working with him! How have you not jumped him yet?”

“Yuna!” Y/N gasped, gasped, snatching the phone from her friend’s hand. “It’s not like that.”

Yuna raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, come on. You’ve been talking about him nonstop for weeks. And now that I know he looks like that” she gestured wildly at the screen, “—I refuse to believe you’re not at least a little into him.”

Y/N sighed, setting the phone down. “He’s… complicated.”

Yuna scoffed. “Oh, please. Men are not that deep.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s not just him, it’s me too. We got off on the wrong foot, and things have been weird ever since. We work well together, but I don’t know if I’d ever go there with him.”

Yuna hummed, unconvinced. “And does he know that? Because if he’s got even half a brain, I bet he’s already thinking about it.”

Y/N wanted to argue, but the memory of Mingyu’s expression from the other day, when she’d called them friends—flashed in her mind. She had thought she was smoothing things over, making their dynamic easier, but had she actually done the opposite?

“Whatever,” she muttered, brushing off the thought. “It’s not happening.”

Yuna grinned, leaning back against the couch. “We’ll see.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Y/N asked, standing up from the couch and made her way to the kitchen.

“No, you never have any boy drama and the one time you do, you don’t want to talk to me about it! That’s what best friends are for!” Yuna sighed, dramatically throwing herself against the couch.

Y/N opened the fridge, pretending to be way more interested in its contents than she actually was. “It’s not boy drama,” she insisted, grabbing a bottle of water.

Yuna scoffed. “You’re avoiding talking about him. That means it’s absolutely boy drama.”

Y/N twisted the cap off and took a long sip, stalling. “It’s work drama.”

“Oh my God,” Yuna groaned. “You are so bad at this. Just admit that you like him a little bit.”

Y/N turned around, leaning against the counter. “I don’t like him like that.”

Yuna gave her a knowing look. “But you want to.”

That made Y/N pause. She frowned, gripping the bottle a little tighter. Did she?

She’d spent so much time keeping Mingyu at a distance, keeping things strictly professional (well, as professional as they could be). But now that the tension between them had finally eased, now that they were in a good place—did she really want more?

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” Y/N admitted, looking down at the bottle in her hands.

Yuna softened, sitting up. “Then don’t.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe it is,” Yuna said. “Maybe you’re just overthinking it.”

Y/N let out a short laugh. “You think I’m overthinking? Shocking.”

Yuna grinned. “I’m just saying, if you ever decide you want to stop overthinking and do something about it, I fully support you jumping his bones.”

Y/N groaned, tossing a dish towel at her. “Oh my God, shut up.”

Yuna just laughed.

The kitchen had grown quieter as the night wore on. The usual rush of orders had tapered off, leaving the staff to clean up the last of the dishes and prep for the next day. Y/N was lingering by the sink, wiping down the counter, but her mind wasn’t entirely focused on the task at hand.

She kept glancing at Mingyu, who was busy organizing a few things by the stove. There was something about him tonight—something that felt different. The usual distance between them had lessened, and the casual, almost playful banter they’d shared earlier was still hanging in the air.

But Y/N felt a twinge of something else, something deeper than she was used to feeling. Maybe it was the way he’d made her laugh so easily or how he had looked at her when she’d brought up the appraiser’s visit. It made her realize, with a little surprise, that she wanted to spend more time with him. Outside of work. Away from the chaos of the kitchen.

Her hand froze for a second as she wiped down the counter. The idea had been forming in her mind for a while, but now that it was out there, it felt a little more real—and a lot more daunting. Still, she took a deep breath, straightened up, and approached him.

“Mingyu,” she said, her voice cutting through the stillness in the kitchen.

He looked up from his task, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure of how to phrase it. She was used to keeping her work and personal life separate, and this—asking him out—felt like a big step. But she wasn’t going to chicken out now.

“I was thinking,” she started, her tone light but with a hint of uncertainty, “maybe we could, uh, grab dinner sometime. You know, outside of work.”

Mingyu’s brow furrowed for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the suggestion. He set down the towel he had been holding and turned fully to face her. “Dinner?”

Y/N nodded, trying to ignore the growing flutter of nerves in her stomach. “Yeah, like… just the two of us. No work talk, no kitchen chaos. I thought it might be nice, you know? A chance to, um, actually talk and not just shout over orders.”

She managed a half-smile, hoping her words didn’t sound as awkward as they felt.

Mingyu seemed to be processing it, his gaze never leaving hers. There was something in his eyes—surprise, curiosity, maybe even a hint of excitement. After a beat, he broke into a small grin.

“You want to get dinner with me?” he asked, his voice teasing but with a soft edge that made her heart skip.

Y/N nodded again, her smile widening. “Yeah. I mean, unless you don’t want to. It’s fine if—”

“No,” Mingyu interrupted, a little too quickly. “I’d like that. A lot, actually.” His smile deepened as he added, “I think it sounds like a good idea.”

The moment of uncertainty between them seemed to dissolve, and Y/N could feel herself relax a little. The weight of the tension from earlier was starting to lift, replaced with a new kind of anticipation. She tried not to overthink it, not to read too much into the fact that he’d responded so eagerly.

“Great,” Y/N said, her voice a little more confident now. “How about Friday night, after work? We could just go to a place nearby, nothing fancy.”

Mingyu thought for a second, looking up as if mentally scanning his calendar. “Friday sounds perfect. I’ll be there,” he said with a wink, his tone easy and comfortable.

Y/N grinned, relieved and excited all at once. “Alright, Friday it is. See you then.”

As she turned to walk away, she felt a rush of excitement, though she kept her cool. She had no idea what to expect, but there was something about the prospect of spending time with Mingyu outside the kitchen that felt both exciting and a little terrifying.

Mingyu watched her walk toward the door, a faint smile on his lips. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then he turned back to the counter, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

Maybe this dinner thing would be exactly what they both needed—a chance to break down some walls, to see each other as more than just coworkers. Mingyu couldn’t quite put his finger on why the idea of spending time with her outside of work felt so important, but he wasn’t about to question it. He just hoped that when Friday came, they could both enjoy it for what it was—something new, something that felt right.

Friday evening arrived, and as Y/N entered the small, cozy restaurant she had picked out for the evening, she couldn’t help but feel a nervous flutter in her chest. She had been to this place a few times before—charming, low-key, and not at all flashy—but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, it was where she was meeting Mingyu, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a casual meal.

The soft hum of background chatter filled the air as she approached the hostess stand, where a friendly woman greeted her with a warm smile. After confirming her reservation, Y/N was led to a corner booth near the back, bathed in soft, amber lighting. The booth was intimate but not too small, the kind of spot where you could have a conversation without feeling overheard. The dim lighting added to the relaxed atmosphere, giving the space a warm, welcoming vibe.

Y/N took a seat, smoothing the front of her jacket, still uncertain about the evening ahead. Her eyes wandered to the front door, where she expected Mingyu to walk through any moment now. She had barely processed the fact that they were here, about to have dinner together, until she found herself fidgeting with her glass of water.

The minutes seemed to stretch, and before she could start second-guessing herself, the sound of the door opening interrupted her thoughts. She glanced up, her breath catching a little as Mingyu walked in. He was dressed in a dark, casual jacket and a simple shirt underneath, looking effortlessly stylish, though she knew his presence was what had her heart racing more than anything.

As soon as their eyes met, he smiled, that familiar, easy grin that always made her feel like everything was going to be alright. Y/N felt her shoulders relax as he made his way over, and she stood up, offering him a small but genuine smile. Mingyu greeted her with a warm “Hey,” before taking a seat across from her, settling in comfortably.

“So,” Mingyu began, leaning back slightly in his seat as the waitress handed them menus, “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Outside of work, I mean.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Yeah, it’s a little strange, isn’t it? Not having orders to fill or a kitchen to run."

She folded her menu in half and set it down on the table, now feeling more at ease. Mingyu was right. This was a different kind of conversation—a different kind of atmosphere. No pressures, no distractions. Just the two of them, sitting across from one another for the first time, with no agenda but to enjoy the evening.

Mingyu studied her for a moment, that usual playfulness in his eyes, but there was a softness there too. “Well, we don’t have to worry about burning anything tonight, right?” he teased, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile.

“No kitchen disasters,” she agreed, her voice light with amusement. She paused, the laughter dying down, and added, “I’m glad you could make it. I’ve been wanting to talk to you more—outside of work.”

The words were out before she could stop them, and she felt a faint blush creep up her neck. Mingyu raised an eyebrow, as if surprised, but the corners of his mouth curled upward.

“Me too,” he admitted, the sincerity in his tone not lost on her. “There’s... a lot I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N’s heart beat a little faster as she leaned forward, intrigued. “Oh?” she asked, her voice dipping into curiosity.

“Yeah.” Mingyu’s expression softened, and his eyes held hers with an unexpected intensity. “You’re more than just the girl who works the line, you know.”

Her breath caught for a split second as she met his gaze, a flutter in her chest that she couldn’t quite explain. There was something in his words, something in the way he looked at her that made her wonder just where this night would lead.

As they both settled into their seats, the quiet hum of the restaurant around them, it became clear that this wasn’t just another dinner—it was the start of something new, something unexpected, and maybe something neither of them were prepared for.

“So, what made you decide to invite me here tonight?” Mingyu asked, his voice gentle, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

Y/N paused, unsure how to answer at first. The question lingered in the air, a small but meaningful moment between them. She could feel his gaze on her, curious but kind, as though he was genuinely interested in what she had to say.

“I don’t know,” she replied slowly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I guess I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… well, everything.” Her voice trailed off, but Mingyu waited patiently, not rushing her to elaborate. “About work, about us, and I realized we’ve never really just… talked, y'know? Outside of the chaos of the kitchen. I wanted to change that.”

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his eyes softening. “I get that,” he said quietly, tapping his fingers on the table lightly. “It’s been all business, hasn’t it? Always so focused on the next dish, the next order. But I’ve been thinking about it too, about how we never seem to have a moment to just… stop.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating his understanding. It felt like he wasn’t just hearing her words but truly listening. The tension between them had already begun to shift, replaced with something softer, more genuine. The conversation felt natural, even comfortable.

“There’s a lot we’ve missed,” she continued, her eyes meeting his. “I think we both deserve a little more than just the rushed hellos and goodbyes in the kitchen.”

Mingyu’s smile widened, but this time, it wasn’t teasing. It was warm, sincere. “I agree. I’m glad you thought of this.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “I’ve wanted to get to know you more, Y/N. But I wasn’t sure if that was something you’d want too.”

Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. His honesty was disarming, and for the first time, she realized how much she’d been trying to hide behind her own walls—how much she’d been holding back.

“I—" She started, then stopped herself. "I think... I think I’ve been holding back too. It’s easy to keep things surface-level when you're afraid of what might happen if you let someone in.”

There was a quiet pause as Mingyu studied her, as though trying to read between the lines. His eyes softened further. “I don’t want to push you into anything. But I’m glad we’re here. And I want you to know… I’m not going anywhere.”

The words hit her more than she expected. She’d been so caught up in her own reservations, in the fear of opening up to someone, but hearing him say that made everything feel just a little bit easier. Maybe she wasn’t alone in this after all.

“I’m not sure where this will go,” she admitted, her voice steady now, “but I’m willing to find out.”

Mingyu’s smile was gentle, understanding. “Me too.”

The waiter arrived just then, and they both shifted slightly as the conversation momentarily paused. The timing was perfect, offering them both a moment to breathe. But as their eyes met again, there was a quiet understanding between them, a shared recognition of something beginning to change.

After they both had ordered and the wine was served, a comfortable silence had fallen between them. Mingyu swirled his glass absentmindedly, watching the deep red liquid catch the light before glancing up at Y/N.

“So,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone, “are we finally going to talk about the elephant in the room, or should we just pretend this is a totally normal coworkers-having-dinner situation?”

Y/N raised a brow, tilting her head slightly. “And what exactly is the elephant in the room?”

Mingyu smirked, leaning forward just a bit. “You tell me.”

“Alright,” Y/N said, taking a sip of her drink, gathering her thoughts. “When you first started at the restaurant, I found you… a little overwhelming. You were confident but never arrogant, sharp but never unkind. You had this easy charm, like you belonged anywhere you walked into.” She exhaled softly, setting her glass down. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, you were different. Most of the men I’ve worked with made me prove myself before they treated me as an equal—but with you, that respect was just there from the start. And I didn’t know what to do with that.”

Mingyu was shocked at her words, he realized that she was complimenting him, but he couldn’t help but feel sad at what she was saying at the same time.

“I’m sorry you’ve always been treated that way,” he said, looking into her eyes.

Y/N offered a small, almost shy smile, tracing the rim of her glass with her fingertip. “It’s just how it’s always been,” she admitted. “You get used to it, I guess.”

Mingyu frowned. “That doesn’t mean you should have to.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe not. But I learned to stop expecting anything different.” She glanced up at him then, something unreadable in her gaze. “That’s why you threw me off so much.”

Mingyu tilted his head. “Because I wasn’t an asshole?”

Y/N huffed a laugh. “Because you were kind,” she corrected. “And not in a way that felt fake or calculated. You weren’t trying to prove anything—you just were.”

Mingyu hadn’t been sure what to expect when he first met Y/N. She was sharp, focused, and had an air of confidence that made it clear she didn’t tolerate nonsense. He respected that. But at the same time, there was something about her that made him want to push her buttons just to see if she’d let herself crack a little.

At first, he had assumed she was just another work-driven chef who saw emotions as distractions. She was direct, efficient, and kept to herself—someone who measured worth by skill and experience rather than charm. And honestly? He hadn’t been sure she even liked him.

But over time, as he paid attention, he noticed the subtleties. The way her eyes softened when she was teaching a younger cook. The way she covered for others without making a big deal about it. How she’d quietly adjust a station if someone was struggling, never saying a word but always making things easier.

He had admired her long before he realized it.

And now, sitting across from her, listening to her say that he was different, that he had surprised her—Mingyu felt something tighten in his chest.

Because the truth was, she had surprised him too. And the more he learned about her, the more he realized that admiration wasn’t all he felt.

“I’m really glad we’re here tonight,” he said softly.

“So am I,” she said softly, meeting his gaze for just a moment. There was something unspoken between them—an understanding, a shift in the air that neither of them was quite ready to acknowledge.

Before she could say anything else, the waiter arrived, carefully placing their meals in front of them. The moment broke, and they both leaned back slightly as the rich aroma of their dishes filled the space between them.

Mingyu picked up his fork, glancing at her with a small smile. “Well, let’s see if this place lives up to the hype.”

Y/N chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “You better not critique the chef too hard.”

He grinned. “No promises.”

And just like that, the conversation shifted, but the weight of what had just been said lingered in the background—waiting.

Mingyu could tell that something had shifted after his dinner with Y/N on Friday. The tension that once lingered between them had eased, replaced by a newfound sense of comfort. Even in the high-pressure environment of the restaurant, where stress was unavoidable, their interactions felt smoother—more natural.

“Do you need a hand with the sauce?” He asked her during a particular busy time during the dinner rush.

“Please!” She sighed, wiping some of the sweat off her forehead and handed him the pot.

Mingyu took over seamlessly, stirring with practiced ease as he adjusted the heat. The kitchen was a flurry of movement—chefs calling orders, the sizzle of pans, and the sharp clatter of knives against cutting boards. But in the midst of the chaos, there was something steady about working alongside Y/N.

“Salt?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Pinch more,” she responded, barely looking up as she plated a dish.

Mingyu did as she instructed, tasting the sauce before nodding in approval. “Perfect.”

Y/N shot him a quick, grateful smile, and for a brief moment, amidst the rush, they weren’t just colleagues—they were a team.

“Wow, you two are working together?” Jeonghan asked, stepping away from his station to witness the rare event that was Y/N accepting help.

“Just this once,” Y/N said, not giving Jeonghan a smile, but instead, giving Mingyu a playful one.

Mingyu felt a flicker of satisfaction at her expression—reserved but amused, a far cry from the guarded looks she used to give him.

"Just this once, huh?" he teased, stirring the sauce one last time before setting the pot down. "Guess I'll have to make it count."

Jeonghan smirked, clearly entertained by the shift in dynamic. "I'll believe it when I see it again."

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she focused back on her station, her movements a little less tense than before.

Mingyu didn’t push, but he couldn’t ignore the way his chest felt a little lighter. Maybe things really were changing between them.

After the last of the plates were cleared and the kitchen had finally quieted down, only Mingyu and Y/N remained, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the now-empty restaurant. As they stepped out into the crisp night air, Mingyu turned to her with a gentle smile, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“I could walk you home, if you’d like,” he said, his voice warm, almost tentative.

Y/N paused, her gaze meeting his. A slight smile tugged at her lips, though there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to. I’m sure you’re tired too.”

Mingyu shrugged nonchalantly, though the glimmer in his eyes suggested a different sentiment. “It’s no trouble,” he insisted, his smile softening. “I’d prefer the company. Besides, I owe you one for all the help today.”

Y/N considered him for a moment before nodding, her smile widening just a fraction. “Alright then.”

Her apartment was just a short walk away—at most ten minutes—but with Mingyu by her side, it felt like the kind of walk that could stretch on forever. The summer was slipping away, its warmth receding into the past, and with it came the bite of early fall. Y/N tugged her coat a little tighter around her as the evening chill crept in, but she couldn't ignore the small shiver that ran down her spine when Mingyu, noticing, pulled his gloves from his pockets and extended them toward her.

“You sure?” she asked, glancing at his outstretched hands, unsure if she wanted to accept.

“Yeah,” Mingyu said with a soft chuckle, his voice warm despite the cool air. “I’m not going to need them. Plus, I wouldn’t want you freezing on me.”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before accepting the gloves, feeling the warmth of them instantly as she slid her hands into them. She glanced up at him, a small smile on her lips, thankful for his thoughtfulness.

“Thanks,” she murmured, the silence between them comfortable for the first time all evening.

As they continued walking, their footsteps syncing, Y/N felt a sudden tug in her chest. Without thinking, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his, and just as quickly, he responded, his fingers lacing with hers. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the gloves.

As they both approached Y/N’s apartment, she slowly pulled her hand away, the warmth of his touch still lingering on her skin. She turned to face him as they stopped in front of the building, a nervous tension hanging in the air between them.

“Thanks for walking me home,” Y/N said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she met his gaze. “I really appreciate it.”

Mingyu smiled, a little sheepish but genuine, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment longer than usual. "Of course, I’m glad I could do it. And I meant it—don’t hesitate to ask if you ever need anything."

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering. "I’ll keep that in mind," she said softly, the words hanging in the air between them like an unspoken promise.

The atmosphere felt different now, charged in a way it hadn’t been before, and she wasn’t sure if it was just her or if he felt it too. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, but there was a flicker of uncertainty there, too, as if he was holding back something he wanted to say.

“Goodnight, Mingyu,” she added with a smile, trying to keep the moment light, even as her heart raced.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Mingyu replied, his tone soft but carrying an unspoken weight behind it. As she turned to walk inside, he lingered for a moment longer, watching her until she disappeared through the door. And for the first time in a while, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more between them than just a simple friendship.

“Yes!” He whispered under his breath, pumping his fist in the air in victory, a quiet but triumphant gesture. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as he turned to head toward the bus station. The weight that had been hovering over him for days—weeks, even—felt lighter, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt like things were falling into place.

He was still riding the high from their walk together, from the small but meaningful connection that had bloomed between them. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was something different now. Maybe it was the way their fingers had brushed together, or the soft look in her eyes when she’d smiled at him. Whatever it was, it had left him feeling like the future was full of possibilities.

As he made his way to the bus stop, his mind kept replaying the moment, over and over again. He had been holding his breath the entire time, unsure if she felt the same way—if she even thought of him the way he thought of her. But that little spark in her eyes had said more than words could.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out, quickly reading the message from Jeonghan: “Don’t overthink it, man. You got this.”

Mingyu smiled, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Maybe he wasn’t overthinking it after all. Maybe this was just the beginning.

“Seriously, you’re telling me she just held your hand?” Wonwoo asked, sitting up from his lounging position on the living room couch, his voice laced with disbelief as he stared at Mingyu. He was trying to process what he was hearing.

Mingyu shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a small, smug grin playing at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I offered her my gloves ‘cause it was cold, and she just grabbed my hand instead.”

Wonwoo blinked a couple of times, leaning back against the cushions in stunned silence. His mind was struggling to comprehend the sheer casualness with which Mingyu was telling the story. He knew Mingyu had his charm, but this was another level.

“You really know how to work your magic, huh?” Wonwoo said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I honestly don’t even know how you do it. You just... walk up to a girl and suddenly, you’re holding hands?”

Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his grin widening. “Well, it wasn’t like I planned it. It just kind of... happened. But yeah, she held my hand and, honestly, it felt pretty natural.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Natural? Dude, that sounds like a big deal. Are you sure you’re not reading too much into it?”

Mingyu sighed, his smile faltering slightly as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t know, man. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It just felt different with her, you know? Like, I’m not sure how to explain it... but it felt like a step forward. But also, I’m not sure if I’m reading too much into it, either.”

Wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. “It’s not bad to feel like something’s different. But just don’t go overthinking every little thing, okay? Trust your gut. You two have been good friends, so maybe it’s just a matter of it slowly becoming something more. Just don’t rush it.”

Mingyu considered his words, his eyes drifting to the window. “Yeah... maybe. It’s just, with her, everything feels like it could be more. But, like I said, I don’t want to make things weird between us.”

Wonwoo gave him a reassuring grin. “Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t find these kinds of connections every day. Just take it easy. If she’s interested in you, it’ll show. And if she’s not, at least you know you tried.”

Mingyu nodded slowly, the weight of the conversation settling in. “Yeah. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Exactly,” Wonwoo said, leaning back again. “Now, how about we take a break from all this emotional drama and order some food? You look like you could use it.”

Mingyu chuckled softly, appreciative of Wonwoo’s ability to effortlessly break the tension. "You know," he said, leaning back into the couch, "you might be onto something there. A break from all this… emotional turmoil wouldn’t hurt."

Wonwoo gave him a knowing look, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Exactly. You’re overthinking it, as usual. Sometimes the simplest solution is to stuff your face and clear your head.”

Mingyu shook his head in amusement but pulled out his phone. “I guess you’re right. I need to step back and let things breathe for a bit. I’ll get us some dinner—something comforting.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Just make sure it's a feast. I can feel your brain overheating from all that pondering.”

A soft laugh escaped Mingyu as he selected their usual takeout. “I’ll make sure it's worth the calories. But for now, we forget about everything else, yeah?"

“Deal.” Wonwoo stretched out lazily, sinking back into the couch. “A little food and mindless conversation—just what the doctor ordered.”

As summer gradually surrendered to the crisp embrace of fall, a subtle shift occurred in the relationship between Y/N and Mingyu. What had once been a cordial camaraderie deepened into something undeniably more affectionate. The air around them, once filled with the usual banter of coworkers, now hummed with a quiet tension, a recognition of the feelings that had begun to unfurl like the autumn leaves surrounding them.

Their glances lingered longer than they used to—words exchanged now held an unspoken weight between them. After long shifts in the kitchen, Mingyu often found himself walking beside Y/N, their footsteps in sync as they navigated the bustling streets. And each time their hands brushed, the contact lingered just a beat too long, enough to send a wave of warmth through both of them.

As the evening air grew cooler, they walked side by side, the hum of the city around them almost forgotten. Mingyu stole a glance at Y/N, his thoughts racing, but he couldn’t quite find the right words. He cleared his throat, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“You know,” he began, his voice casual but laced with something deeper, “I really enjoy these walks with you. More than I expected, honestly.”

Y/N looked over at him, her lips curling into a soft smile. She slowed her pace just slightly, letting the silence settle between them before replying.

“Yeah, me too,” she said quietly, her breath forming tiny clouds in the cool evening air. “It’s nice to unwind after a long shift, having someone to talk to.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, but the weight behind them was unmistakable. Mingyu glanced down at their hands, which had been brushing together with every other step. He swallowed, the connection between them so simple yet so significant.

“You ever think about how we’ve gone from barely talking to—this?” Mingyu asked, a playful edge in his voice, though his heart beat faster than he wanted to admit.

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes meeting his. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quiet but warm, “it’s funny how things just kind of... shift, without either of us realizing it.”

Their hands brushed again, and this time neither of them pulled away. Y/N didn’t even seem to notice it at first, but when she did, she looked at Mingyu, her heart suddenly feeling like it might burst.

“Are we still just walking home?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper, and Mingyu felt a flush creep up his neck.

“Guess so,” he said, his words hanging in the air between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

And for a long moment, they walked together, the cool breeze brushing against them as the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of their footsteps and the quiet certainty that something had shifted—for the better

"Are you wearing new makeup?" Yuna asked, walking over and lightly tracing her finger over the glossy nude stain on Y/N's lips.

Y/N jumped slightly, swatting her hand away. "No," she lied, quickly glancing in the mirror to make sure the gloss wasn’t smudged.

Yuna leaned in, narrowing her eyes. "You are! I can tell. Why are you wearing new makeup? You don't usually go for this look... I mean, it looks good on you, but I’m kind of confused."

Y/N sighed, giving up the charade as she dug through her purse. She pulled out a larger makeup bag, opening it to reveal the fresh products she'd just picked up earlier that week. "Okay, fine. Yes, it’s new makeup. I don’t know... I just thought it was time for a change. Something different, you know?"

Yuna's eyebrows shot up as she took the bag from Y/N and started rifling through it, clearly intrigued. "A change? Girl, you’re over here talking about change, but look at all this! You went all out! These brands are way fancier than the usual stuff you get."

Y/N shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. "I just wanted to try something new. Maybe freshen up my routine a bit."

Yuna chuckled, pulling out a highlighter. "Freshen up your routine? You went straight for the big leagues. I see you got the good stuff—look at this highlighter! You didn’t even tell me you were planning to glow like this."

"Yuna, stop," Y/N said, her cheeks flushing slightly as she took the highlighter from her and tucked it back into the bag. "It’s not that serious."

"Oh, it’s serious," Yuna teased, shaking her head. "The question is—who’s the lucky guy that’s got you changing up your look? You’ve never been one to put this much effort into your makeup before."

Y/N’s eyes widened as she quickly fumbled for an excuse, her voice quieter than usual. "I’m just trying something new. It’s nothing like that."

Yuna gave her a knowing look, but didn’t push further. Instead, she grabbed a lipstick and held it up to Y/N’s lips. "Well, whether it's for someone or just for you, it’s looking good. I’m just saying, you’ve got that glow now."

Y/N gave her a half-smile, still feeling a bit embarrassed but also somewhat pleased by the compliment. "Thanks, Yuna."

Yuna smirked. "Well, if you won’t tell me who it’s for, at least let me play makeup artist with your new stuff. Come on, let’s see how much more fabulous I can make you."

Y/N shook her head, trying to hold back a laugh. "You’re impossible."

"But you love me," Yuna said, winking as she started applying the lipstick to her friend's lips. "Now spill—it’s either a guy or a new level of self-care. Which one is it?"

Y/N just rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "You’re never gonna let this go, huh?"

"Not a chance," Yuna grinned, already planning her next line of questioning. "Is it Mingyu?" Yuna asked, her voice teasing as she raised an eyebrow, noticing the silence that followed.

Y/N froze for a second, her mind racing. She hadn't intended for this to come up. The blush on her cheeks betrayed her, though, as it spread across her face like wildfire.

Yuna grinned, her smirk widening. "Oh my god, it is him, isn't it?"

Y/N quickly looked away, hoping the flush would subside, but her heart was already pounding in her chest. "I—it's not like that," she stammered, still avoiding Yuna's gaze.

Yuna's laughter filled the room, and she playfully nudged Y/N's shoulder. "Come on, don't try to hide it. I saw the way you were with him the other night, and now you’re changing up your look? He’s definitely got you thinking about him, huh?"

Y/N sighed, her hands instinctively reaching for the makeup bag to distract herself. "It's... complicated," she admitted quietly, biting her lower lip.

Yuna raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Complicated? In what way?"

Y/N took a deep breath, her mind spinning as she tried to figure out how to explain without giving too much away. "I don't know... we’ve been getting closer. It’s just... different now."

Yuna leaned in closer, her expression softening slightly. "Closer? That sounds like a good thing, Y/N. Maybe it’s time to see where this goes." She paused, a teasing gleam still in her eye. "I mean, he’s a good guy. Plus, you did just get all this new makeup for him, didn’t you?"

Y/N's blush deepened, but she gave a small smile. "Can we not talk about the makeup for him?" she muttered, feeling both flustered and oddly comforted by her friend’s teasing.

Yuna grinned wider, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "Alright, alright, but I’m just saying, if you ever need someone to talk to about Mingyu—or about anything else—you know I’m here."

"Thanks, Yuna," Y/N said softly, her heart feeling a little lighter as she finally looked back at her friend.

Yuna winked. "Anytime. Just don’t take too long to figure out what's between you two. You deserve someone who makes you smile, and from what I can see, he might just be the one."

Thanks, Yuna,” Y/N said, meeting her friend’s gaze. “It means a lot to have someone to talk to about all this.”

Yuna grinned, giving her a playful shove. “Anytime. Now, let’s talk about your makeup again, because that’s the real mystery here.”

Y/N was slightly embarrassed that her friend had read her so easily, but a part of her was relieved. It felt good to finally share her thoughts with someone who understood without judgment. She had always been so private, especially when it came to matters of the heart, but Yuna’s lighthearted teasing made it seem less intimidating.

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes, but her heart felt lighter as she finally relaxed. She could do this. She just had to take things one step at a time.

The dinner rush hit like a storm, the clattering of plates and the ringing of the ticket printer blending into a cacophony of pressure. In the back, the kitchen was a frenzy of heat and noise. The team was already feeling the strain, and it was only getting worse.

Mingyu stood at the stove, his hand moving skillfully over the hot pan as he worked on the scallops. But in his haste to keep up with orders, he misjudged the timing. The scallops, delicate and prone to overcooking, began to blacken along the edges. His heart dropped when he realized his mistake.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the scallops off the heat just in time to stop them from becoming completely ruined. But the damage was done. The scallops had lost their delicate texture and now looked less than appetizing.

Over at the sauce station, Y/N was juggling multiple pans, keeping an eye on each one to ensure nothing burned. But then, as if on cue, the beurre blanc she had been carefully preparing suddenly started bubbling over, splattering across the stove and dripping onto the floor in a disastrous mess.

“Crap!” Y/N cursed, scrambling to grab a towel to stem the flow, but it was too late. The sauce had already scorched the burner and spilled across the kitchen. She wiped her hands frantically on her apron as she tried to contain the damage. “Not now,” she muttered to herself, panic rising in her chest. This wasn’t the time for things to go wrong.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan, who was in charge of the risotto, was experiencing his own crisis. The rice, which was meant to be creamy and tender, had somehow become a mushy, overcooked mess. He was stirring furiously, trying to salvage it, but each stir seemed to make it worse. The dish was supposed to be a signature item for the evening, and now it was quickly turning into a nightmare.

“Dammit!” Jeonghan hissed, shaking his head in frustration. “This is not how tonight was supposed to go.”

Dino, who was assigned to roast vegetables, had just pulled a tray of brussels sprouts out of the oven only to find they were charred black on one side. He quickly shoved them back in, hoping to salvage the other side, but there was no saving that batch. The oven had been on too high, and everything had cooked unevenly.

“Are you kidding me?” Dino groaned. The kitchen was a disaster, and it was clear to everyone that they were losing control.

As the pressure mounted, the kitchen was filled with a symphony of frustration—knives chopping, pans sizzling, and everyone speaking over one another. The orders were piling up, and each mistake felt like a snowball gaining momentum. Mingyu cursed under his breath as he pulled the ruined scallops aside, and Y/N wiped her brow, trying to steady herself as she assessed the damage to her sauce.

But it was when Jeonghan’s risotto began to burn that the atmosphere truly shifted. The heat, the noise, and the sheer chaos of it all seemed to consume the kitchen.

“Guys!” Y/N called over the commotion, her voice louder than it had been all night. “We need to pull it together. NOW.”

She moved quickly to Mingyu’s side, assessing the scallops. "You didn’t burn them completely, just give them a second to rest," she said calmly, despite her own rising panic. "I’ll take over the sauce, you focus on those."

Mingyu nodded, frustration still etched on his face. “I didn’t mean to mess up,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving the burnt edges of the scallops.

“I know, we’ve all had a moment,” she replied, her tone steady. “Let’s fix it. I’ll do the sauce. You do the scallops. We’ve got this.”

She turned to Jeonghan, who was standing frozen in front of the pot of ruined risotto. “Jeonghan, we need more stock. Stir slowly, and don’t panic. It’ll come together.”

Jeonghan met her eyes, nodding gratefully before returning to the pan. The calm in her voice was like a lifeline, and it was enough to snap him out of his daze.

Dino was already back to the vegetables, moving quickly this time, pulling a fresh tray of brussels sprouts from the oven and tossing them back in the oven at a slightly lower temperature. “These are going to be perfect,” he muttered under his breath, determined not to let his earlier mistake define the night.

As the team pulled together, Y/N felt a rush of adrenaline. The clock was ticking, and the orders kept coming in, but her mind had shifted into autopilot. She moved fluidly between stations, taking charge where necessary, offering reassurance where she could.

But just as it seemed they were getting a handle on the chaos, the pressure cooker that was the kitchen had one last surprise in store. The walk-in fridge door, which had been opened and closed multiple times in the midst of the frantic rush, was now jammed. Inside, they had the ingredients they needed to finish off several orders. But no one could get the door to budge.

“Of course,” Y/N muttered under her breath, banging her fist lightly against the door. “Why not?”

“We’ve got no choice,” Mingyu said, his tone resigned. “We’ll have to move fast and get what we need from the front cooler.”

Y/N nodded. “We’ll make it work.”

With Mingyu leading the way, they quickly gathered the necessary ingredients from the front. The frantic energy that had pervaded the kitchen turned into a united determination. They were in this together, and failure wasn’t an option.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the orders were out. Plates of perfectly seared scallops, velvety risotto, and roasted vegetables, all beautifully arranged and delivered. Everyone was covered in sweat, their clothes stained with sauce and oil, but the relief was palpable. The nightmare was over.

Y/N looked around at the team, catching Mingyu’s gaze for a split second. “We did it,” she said, the exhaustion and pride clear in her voice.

Mingyu, his expression tired but satisfied, nodded. “We did.”

Jeonghan, still breathing heavily, leaned against the counter. “That was a disaster,” he chuckled. “But it was a disaster we survived.”

Dino grinned, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, and now it’s time for a drink.”

The tension in the kitchen melted away, replaced by a shared sense of accomplishment. They had survived the storm, stronger as a team than they had ever been before.

In the chaos of the night, they had not only saved the dinner service, but they had learned to lean on one another. They had learned to trust, to adapt, and to push through even the toughest of moments. And as they stood together, catching their breath and sharing small smiles, Y/N knew that this disaster had only made them stronger.

As the night came to a wrap and Y/N and Mingyu started their walk back to Y/N’s place, the air between them felt different—charged, almost electric. The chill of the evening clung to the air, but neither of them seemed to mind. Their steps were slow, unhurried, as if neither of them wanted the night to end just yet.

“You really took charge back there,” Mingyu said, shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing at her with something close to admiration. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen Jeonghan actually listen to someone in a crisis.”

Y/N huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t give me too much credit. I was just trying to keep us all from setting the place on fire.”

Mingyu chuckled, but he didn’t say anything else right away. Instead, he let the silence settle between them, comfortable but weighted. The city lights flickered against the pavement, casting long shadows as they walked side by side.

At some point, their hands brushed, the contact fleeting but enough to make Y/N’s breath hitch. She didn’t move away, and neither did he. Instead, Mingyu took a slow breath, gathering the courage that had been bubbling inside him all night.

“You’re something else, you know that?” His voice was quieter now, more thoughtful.

Y/N turned to look at him, her steps faltering just slightly. “What do you mean?”

Mingyu stopped walking then, and Y/N, caught in the moment, did too. They stood there, just a few steps away from her apartment, the night wrapped around them like a secret.

“I mean,” Mingyu said, lifting a hand as if he was about to reach for her but hesitating at the last second. “You make me nervous, and that doesn’t happen often.” His lips curled into a soft smile, but there was something undeniably sincere in his eyes, something that made Y/N’s heart race in her chest.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, the warmth of his presence pulling her in. “You don’t seem nervous,” she whispered.

Mingyu huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I am,” he admitted. And then, before she could respond, he took the last step that closed the space between them.

Y/N’s breath caught as Mingyu lifted a hand, his fingertips brushing the side of her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His touch was featherlight, hesitant, like he was giving her a chance to step away—but she didn’t.

Instead, she tilted her head just slightly, her gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips and back again. Mingyu swallowed, his pulse hammering as he leaned in, so close now that she could feel his breath ghosting over her skin.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, the sounds of the city fading into the background. It was just them, standing in the dim glow of the streetlamp, hearts racing, breaths mingling, the weight of something unspoken hanging between them—waiting.

As their lips finally met, the world seemed to stop. The cool night air faded into the background, and for a moment, it was just the two of them—Y/N and Mingyu. The space between them that had once felt like an ocean now felt like nothing at all.

Mingyu’s hand found its way to her waist, pulling her slightly closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. Y/N’s breath hitched as she melted into the kiss, unsure where the nervous tension from earlier had gone. She felt the rush of warmth that surged through her, the flicker of something she couldn’t fully describe yet.

Her fingers brushed lightly against his chest, unsure of where to place them, and Mingyu’s other hand found the back of her neck, holding her gently, as though she might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened, slow and searching, as if they were both savoring the newfound closeness.

When they finally broke apart, their faces were so close that their breath mingled in the space between them. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, unsure if she had just dreamt the entire moment. Her hand rested on his chest, feeling the quick rhythm of his heart as well.

Mingyu let out a quiet laugh, but his voice was hushed, almost reverent. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

Y/N smiled, trying to find her words, but she couldn’t quite get them out. She just let out a soft laugh, meeting his eyes. “Me too.”

And just as she thought the moment might slip away, she leaned in again, brushing her lips softly against his, as if asking for more. The kiss was gentle this time, but it carried with it the promise of something deeper, something neither of them were quite ready to define just yet.

It was a simple moment, but it felt like everything.

Mingyu reluctantly pulled away at a particularly harsh breeze and wrapped his arms around Y/N’s frame, “as much as I would like to continue, I can only imagine how cold you must be if I’m shivering.”

Y/N chuckled and wrapped her arms around his waist as nodded against him. Her place was in eyesight, if they got there soon, maybe they could continue the night and their previous activities.

Mingyu smiled softly, still holding her close, as if savoring the last bit of warmth from the kiss before reality crept back in. The chill in the air was undeniable, and he could feel the sharp wind cut through their clothes, but having Y/N in his arms made it almost bearable.

"I guess you're right," Y/N said, her voice quiet but warm, her breath mixing with his in the cold air. "We should probably get inside."

Reluctantly, Mingyu pulled back, his hands lingering on her arms for a moment longer, as if he didn’t want to let go just yet. Their eyes met, and for a split second, the weight of the unspoken words hung between them.

Y/N smiled softly, a small but knowing smile, before taking a step back and motioning toward the building. "Come on, we’re almost there."

They walked in comfortable silence, side by side, the occasional brush of their hands reminding them of the kiss they had just shared, still lingering like a sweet aftertaste.

When they reached her apartment, Y/N turned to face him, her fingers tracing the edges of his jacket. "Thanks for walking me home," she said, voice a little softer now, as if the night had shifted something between them.

Mingyu nodded, his thumb gently brushing her hand as it rested against his chest. "Anytime." His words came out more like a promise than anything else, as if he would walk her home every night if it meant he could stay close to her.

There was a pause, a moment of silence where everything felt suspended in time. Y/N glanced up at him, a glimmer of something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite read, but the closeness between them felt electric.

"Well..." she began, trailing off, her gaze shifting between his eyes and his lips.

Mingyu tilted his head slightly, his heart racing. "Well..." he repeated softly, his voice steady despite the rush of emotions he could feel building inside him.

And then, as if the distance between them could no longer be tolerated, Y/N leaned in again, this time with more intent, her lips brushing against his once more. The kiss was soft, but it carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said out loud. The world faded away again, leaving just the two of them—here, in this moment, with nothing but each other.

As their lips met again, Mingyu’s heart seemed to stop for just a moment, and everything else around him blurred. He could feel the warmth of her against him, her breath mingling with his, and he never wanted to let go. Every time their lips met, it felt like something shifted inside him, something he didn’t know he could feel until this moment.

His hand naturally moved to the back of her neck, holding her there, as if trying to pull her closer, as if he could keep her this close forever. The way her lips fit against his felt so right, and he couldn’t quite grasp why he felt so desperate to stay there, to not let the moment slip away. He had never felt this kind of pull before, like everything about him was tethered to her and every inch of space between them seemed unbearable.

It felt too good, too natural—this connection that was quickly becoming something he couldn’t easily walk away from. The cold air seemed irrelevant now, just a distant background to the warmth building between them. Mingyu could feel his pulse racing in his chest, and even though the air bit at his skin, he was lost in the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips.

He didn’t want to pull away. He didn’t want this moment to end. But at the same time, there was this hesitation, this fear in the back of his mind—what if this was too much too soon? What if they were both walking too fast, leaning into something they weren’t ready for? Yet, every time he thought about pulling away, his heart screamed at him to stay, to keep feeling this, to keep tasting her lips, just a little longer.

But the world outside—the chilly night, the noise of the city just a few blocks away—eventually crept in. He reluctantly pulled back, not wanting to, but knowing it was probably for the best. The need to breathe, to take a step back, seemed so small in comparison to the overwhelming desire to remain in her arms.

And yet, even as he pulled away, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she made him feel. How easy it was to lose himself in her presence. Mingyu wasn’t sure what this all meant yet, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt too important, too real to just be a fleeting moment.

He just hoped she felt the same way.

“I don’t work tomorrow, but I can still come and walk you home?” He offered, watching her cheeks flush pink.

“No, that’s okay,” Y/N said with a small smile. “We’ve been pretty attached at the hip lately.”

Mingyu chuckled, tilting his head playfully. “Oh? You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “I didn’t say that.”

He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice. “So, you like having me around?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the warmth creeping up her neck. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, chef. I just meant… a little space isn’t the worst thing.”

Mingyu grinned, stepping back dramatically. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you your space… for now.”

Y/N shook her head, but she couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow, even when he teased, he had a way of making her heart race.

“See you later, Chef Y/N,” Mingyu teased, his voice laced with affection. Before she could respond, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Y/N felt her breath hitch, her cheeks instantly warming as he pulled away with that signature smirk of his. “Get inside before you freeze,” he murmured, his hand brushing hers for just a second longer than necessary before he finally stepped back.

She stood there, still caught in the moment, watching him walk away with a giddy feeling blooming in her chest.

“Shut up! You guys kissed?” Yuna shrieked, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads on the street.

Y/N’s eyes widened as she quickly reached out, smacking Yuna’s shoulder in warning. “Can you not announce it to the entire city?” she hissed, glancing around before sighing and nodding. “Yeah… twice.”

“Oh my god!” Yuna clutched her chest dramatically. “Twice? And you’re just telling me this now? When were you planning to share this life-altering information?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile creeping onto her lips. “I don’t know, maybe when you weren’t screaming about it in public?”

Yuna held up a hand, effectively silencing Y/N mid-ramble. "No, no, no—you're not about to brush past this like it's nothing," she said, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Was it like… fireworks? A slow burn? Did he cup your face? Oh my god, did he do the thing where he leans in all intense and makes you forget how to breathe?"

Y/N groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Yuna, I don’t know. It was—good. Really good. We were both still on edge from the kitchen disaster, emotions were high, and then suddenly… it just happened."

Yuna gasped. "So it was a heat-of-the-moment kiss? Passionate? Unexpected? Please tell me he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world before it happened."

Y/N's face warmed as she crossed her arms. "...Maybe."

Yuna let out a delighted squeal, bouncing on her heels. "Oh, you're doomed. Completely, hopelessly doomed."

Y/n sighed, but didn't say anything else not wanting to draw any more attention.

Yuna, however, was far from done. She grinned, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “So? Are you guys, like… a thing now?”

Y/N sighed, glancing around at the lingering stares from Yuna’s earlier outburst. “Can we not do this here?” she mumbled, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

Yuna smirked but relented, lowering her voice. “Fine, fine. But you owe me details. And don’t think I didn’t notice that dreamy little sigh you just did.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Maybe she was doomed.

Mingyu was stressed. He had been tasked with creating three new dishes for the restaurant—no easy feat. Fish and chips were a classic, but Joshua had insisted on something more refined, pushing him to craft three completely diverse plates: Lobster Bisque, Seared Scallops with Garlic Mashed Potatoes, and Lamb Loin with Smoked Eggplant and Squash Purée.

The kitchen was alive with movement, sizzling pans, and the rhythmic chop of knives against cutting boards. Mingyu moved between stirring a delicate sauce and carefully searing slices of eggplant, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Who started the fire?” Y/N called from across the kitchen, her voice cutting through the controlled chaos.

“Joshua.” Mingyu scoffed, flipping the eggplant with a little more force than necessary. “Decides to throw me into the deep end with no warning.”

Y/N smirked as she walked over, glancing at the plated scallops. “So, how does it feel being a fully initiated chef now?”

Mingyu let out a dry laugh. “Like I’m being hazed. You’d think after months of proving myself, I wouldn’t have to fight for my life every night.”

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching him drizzle sauce over the lamb loin. “It’s a test. He wouldn’t have given you this if he didn’t think you could handle it.”

Mingyu exhaled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, I’d like to have a conversation with past me about why I thought this career was a good idea.”

Y/N chuckled. “Because you love it. Even when you’re pissed off and running on fumes, you wouldn’t trade this for anything else.”

Mingyu stilled for a moment before sighing. “Damn it. You’re right.” He glanced at the bisque, giving it one last stir. “I hate when you do that.”

“I know,” Y/N said smugly. “Now, hurry up. Joshua’s coming, and if that bisque isn’t perfect, you’ll be redoing it in your sleep.”

Mingyu chuckled but nodded, focusing back on his work. A comfortable silence settled between them, the only sounds being the soft bubbling of sauces and the rhythmic sizzle from the pan.

After a few moments, Mingyu glanced up, stealing a quick look at Y/N before speaking.

“Why do you love cooking?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

Y/N hesitated for a second, eyes flickering toward the lamb he was carefully plating. “I don’t want to mess up your focus.”

Mingyu smirked, stirring the bisque without missing a beat. “I’m still going. I can multitask.”

“Okay, fine,” Y/N chuckled, shifting her weight slightly as she thought. “I guess... it feels like control. No matter how chaotic things get, if you follow the right steps, you get something good in the end.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, setting down his spoon. “So it’s about control for you?”

She shrugged. “Partly. But it’s also about creating something people actually enjoy. You can put effort into a lot of things in life and never see the payoff, but with food? You know right away if it’s good.”

Mingyu tilted his head, considering her words. “Huh.”

“What?”

He shook his head with a small smile. “Just didn’t expect you to sum it up so perfectly.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What, you think I don’t think deeply about food?”

Mingyu chuckled. “No, I just remember mentioning how much I love the kitchen rush a while back, and you didn’t really say anything. I figured that was your way of saying you weren’t that into it.”

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh. No, that was just me being standoffish.”

Mingyu nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I see. Well, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to open up to me now.”

Y/N let out a soft chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah… I guess you kind of grew on me.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow playfully. “So, I wasn’t instantly charming?”

She smirked. “Not exactly. You were kind of annoying at first.”

Mingyu gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Annoying? I prefer the term ‘irresistibly charismatic.’”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her gaze gave her away. “Call it what you want. But yeah… I do feel more comfortable with you now.”

Mingyu’s expression softened, the teasing fading into something more genuine. “Good. I like this—us just talking like this.”

Y/N nodded, feeling the same unspoken ease settle between them.

“Are you guys flirting?” Jeonghan called out from his station, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Because if so, can you at least do it a little quieter? Some of us are actually working here.”

Laughter rippled through the kitchen, a few chefs throwing knowing glances their way. Y/N rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Mingyu, unfazed, grinned as he tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Jeonghan, if you spent half as much time cooking as you do eavesdropping, maybe you’d finally impress Chef Lee.”

The laughter only grew louder, Jeonghan scoffing as he turned back to his work. The playful banter didn’t break the energy of the kitchen—it only made it feel lighter, more alive.

And maybe, just maybe, Mingyu and Y/N weren’t the only ones who felt the shift between them.

“How’s the extra dishes coming along?” Joshua asked, clapping Mingyu on the shoulder and snapping him out of his little daze.

Mingyu blinked, clearing his throat as he hastily turned back to the stove. “Good. Just, uh—getting down the garlic mashed potatoes,” he replied, stirring a little too intently.

Joshua chuckled, clearly not buying it. “Right. And were you planning to season them with longing stares, or...?”

Mingyu groaned, his cheeks tinged with a telltale blush. “Shut up, hyung,” he muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the pot, as if that would somehow erase the fact that he’d just been caught staring at Y/N—again.

Joshua only smirked, giving Mingyu another pat on the back before walking off. “Just don’t burn anything while you’re busy pinning.”

Mingyu’s head snapped toward Y/N, panic flashing in his eyes as he checked to see if she had heard Joshua’s teasing remark. To his relief, she was too focused on her own station to notice. Still, the mortification settled deep in his chest—if Joshua had caught on, who else had?

“Hyung, don’t say that out loud!” Mingyu hissed under his breath, glaring at Joshua.

Joshua only chuckled, unfazed. “Relax, Romeo. Your secret’s safe with me.” He shot Mingyu a playful wink before casually strolling back to his station.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he turned back to his mashed potatoes. Get it together, man. But despite his best efforts, he couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: Wow guys! that's the first part! I'm ngl, I'm not done writing this, life has been busy, so it may be a little bit before it's done! But I won' drag it out to multiple parts. I hope everyone likes it ♥

taglist: @fancypeacepersona @lolawlolawlol @syluslittlecrows @alyssa19123456 @christinewithluv

#seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #kim mingyu #mingyu seventeen #mingyu x reader #seventeen imagines #mingyu angst #kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #mingyu #mingyu oneshot #kim mingyu imagines #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu fanfic #svt x reader #svt mingyu #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu fluff

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twilightau · 2 months ago

Text

LOVE VIRUS; L.DH

synopsis — after a fateful encounter with a mysterious resident, you decide to follow his example and became a nurse, just to get the chance to see him again. romance, fate-like moments, you expected a lot from your first meeting after many years... just to find out he is the most insufferable jerk!

genres — first love au, co-workers-to-lovers, doctor au

pairing — lee donghyuck x fem!reader

warnings — language, mentions of death, incorrect medical descriptions, accidentally attempted suicide, sharp objects, medical setting

word count — 7,6k

[ ♡ previous part. ] — [ ♡ next part. ]

Nobody liked the ending of things. Everyone liked beginning something believing or hoping it would help them reach a specific place. Still, that certainty stops once you get the spot you only dreamt about.

Endings were never your think. Everyone liked beginnings, it meant starting on a dream, creating hope, believing in a certain goal. But it all halts it's fairytale-like meaning when you don't know what to begin with.

High school ended in less than eight days, and you were wasting time with your girlfriends in the streets of Seoul, none of you with any ambitions for the future. All you could think of was which bars to sneak into and how to convince a tired convenience store employee on midnight duty to give you a pack of cigarettes for cheaper.

Uncertainty scared you, but it was so damn frustrating to find a career path that suited you. You weren’t the smartest in class, you hated numbers, you were far from the most athletic, and frankly speaking, you hated studying in general. No one was going to accept a student with a bad rep anyway, even though most of the bad doings were done by your friends, you were just merely a bystander.

But what will you become if you cannot find the right path in time?

These wandering thoughts and ‘what ifs' were eating away at your sanity. Your drunk friend waved at you, signing you to another night of drinking all your insecurities away. You smiled at her, about to join the group when you heard a loud clatter behind you. A small elder who was collecting cartons onto his little cart fell to the ground, his frame getting smaller with each bathed breath you took.

You didn't know how you crossed the road in seconds. Your heart was still racing while you asked the elder if he was alright. You could still hear the ringing in your ear while you told him to follow your breathing pattern. He tried to grasp for something inside the cart, you leaped forward to find his bag hanging on the handle of the cart. But it was too late, the man was already out cold on the ground.

If what you felt before was anxiety, you are now in full worry. “Sir, can you hear me? Please answer me if you can?” You heard his breathing but it started to sound more labored by the second. You searched his bag for any indication but found two unfamiliar types of medicine. You were not a pre-med student and stood frozen at the realization that you did not know how to help this elder.

“Someone help! This man collapsed on the ground!” You yelled into the empty streets of Seoul at twilight. Everyone was busy zombie-ing themselves to a restaurant or club to relieve stress, the working class could not afford to save another person but themselves. You kept shouting for help, feeling the man’s pulse weakening. The sight was making your heartache.

“Are you alright?” You heard from your left, you nodded before taking the outstretched hand without looking, pulling the person down with you to observe the elder. He didn’t seem to mind, immediately getting to work. “Okay, what happened?” You told him how you found him and how long you have stayed and watched his condition.

The stranger starts looking around, grabbing the elder’s bag and rummaging through his things as if looking for specific items. It is the first time you look at the stranger, and you realize it is a handsome stranger.

The points of his curly brown hair are slightly darker, soaked in sweat as if he came running. His nose had a soft round tip and his lips were upturned, a wide cupid’s bow engraved in his upper lip. You almost start counting the moles on his face before you realize what he might be looking for.

“A-are you looking for these?” Your outstretched hands contain the two unknown tubes of medicine. The stranger looks relieved and nods. He opens the cap and you realize it is a needle instead of a pod of pills. He stabs it into the leg of the elder with a force that shocks you, but his smile reassures you ever so slightly.

“Can you call an ambulance? The number is on that utility pole, I think–” He looks at the medication bottle for a second, “Mister Hwang is going to be just fine, don’t worry.” You nod, but your hands still tremble, the adrenaline leaving your body. The stranger holds you still, “You did well. Mister Hwang is going to be okay thanks to you.” He gave you a warm smile and patted your head encouragingly.

When the ambulance arrived, the stranger took over the situation entirely. “Hello, my name is Lee Donghyuck. Please go to Neo-Seoul Medical Center, I’m a 2nd-year resident there.” The paramedic nodded and Haechan hopped onto the vehicle behind the stretcher. You watched as the back doors closed and the car drove away, the whole scene leaving you in awe.

The words he had spoken to you were still replaying in your mind, slowly woven into your heart like a design into a sweater that cannot be removed. For the first time in your life, you did not screw something up, you helped save a human and you succeeded. Haechan and the ambulance were long gone by now, but it was almost like the trail it left behind was highlighted in gold; you had found your career path in life thanks to him.

♡

Neo-Seoul Medical Center was one of the most prestigious university hospitals in all of South Korea. Standing in front of a hospital to start your career was unimaginable for you five years ago. And if it depended on your GPA back then, you’d have never been able to start a medical career at all. It helped that you had good study buddies who helped you with the selection exams as well as teachers who truly saw your good qualities behind all the natural clumsiness you radiated.

You smiled at the building once more before Chenle called your name, telling you to hurry up before you got late for your introduction week. He was one of the few close friends you made during nursing school. He was similar in the way he always went beyond for the people he cared for, but unlike you, he doesn’t always act on his emotions.

Your introduction group consists of two other rookie nurses: Ningning and Sion. You weren’t familiar with the two, but it wasn’t unknown that Yizhou was the top student during your years in nursing school.

The receptionist pointed your group towards the eleventh floor where a head nurse would appoint you each to a department.

Once the elevator door opened, you were met by an administrative nurse who told you to wait a bit. The LED screen above the reception showed that there were several surgeries being performed right now. Your eyes widened at a familiar name between them.

Lead surgeon – Lee Donghyuck – General Surgery 00:02:10:37

He has not left this hospital despite all these years. A small smile creeps up your face. Ever since you decided to study nursing, you had secretly wondered if you’d ever get to work with him. The image of the two of you rushing to help patients always helped you ground yourself while preparing for another practical exam.

A familiar mop of dark brown curls passed your daydreaming state and you were quick to react. His scent, his hair, his soft features, and his moles; it was just like you remember. You start to realize that he hasn’t moved, your hands unbeknownst to you holding onto the sleeve of his dark blue scrubs. He looks at you with confusion, about to speak but you beat him to it, almost in a hurry to tell him everything you wanted to him all these years before you lose your courage.

“Dr. Donghyuck, I– I’m so glad to see you again. Thanks to your help, I was able to see the path before me and worked hard for the past 5 years to get here. I am so happy to be able to enter the same hospital as you and look up to you as–” He holds up a hand, making you stop mid-sentence. He raises a brow and makes a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this right now.” He looks at your badge and then your fellow rookie nurses behind you. “You are the new rookie?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before continuing, “Okay. Listen up, you guys, too. Do not ask stupid questions that you could have studied beforehand, do not waste doctor’s time, and –,” he looked straight at you, “Do not talk to me unless necessary. I’ve got better things to do.” You let go of his sleeve, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment and anger. Who the hell does this jerk think he is?

“Seems the rookies have met our fellow Donghyuck” A female voice states, you look to your left to find a woman in purple scrubs next to your group. “Hello rookies, my name is Karina Yu. I’m the head nurse of the emergency department and your temporary mentor while you do the rotations. Now get out your little notepads, write down everything I’m telling you, and make sure to ask if something is unclear. The emergency department isn’t a place that goes slow and steady, if you notice something you must be fast on your feet and react quickly. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Nurse Karina is fine, by the way.” She smiled kindly before it dropped and she started to walk and talk like it was a military drill.

♡

“Okay, this is our weekly schedule board. We have it digitally but since the emergency department is about always being on the move, it would be too troublesome to have someone look it up every seven minutes. I added some ID pictures so you guys can easily distinguish which surgeon and doctor is who.

This is Lee Mark, he is a cardiac surgeon who often handles emergency cases since he just recently switched to CS from GS. The cardiology department is on the eighth floor, but you will find him in the doctor’s room of our department more often. If you have any questions, go to him and he will answer them in detail for you.

This fellow is Lee Donghyuck, he is from general surgery and the main surgeon you will work with here. Liu Yangyang is also a fellow GS specialist and the other surgeon you will meet the most often. Both the general surgery specialists are quite strict and meticulous in their work and it shows in the way that they will hold you accountable for any mistake you make. Remember, this is not nursing school anymore, you passed your exam: now it is real.

“Yes, earlier you mentioned we will start rotations in the ER. Do all four of us start in the ER?” You ask, trying not to get too embarrassed by your little stutter.

“No, from the spreadsheet I received only nurse Yizhou and Y/N will start in the ER. Nurse Chenle will assist Dr. Lee Mark in cardiology and Nurse Sion will join neurology and assist Dr. Qian Kun until the further rotation. The four of you will rotate around cardiology, neurology, and emergency as you have chosen these preferences. Of course, if in any case, those three departments end up not befitting your best qualities, you can apply for any of the other departments you want to try out. After your introductory period, you can decide which department you want to join.” The four of you nod at Karina’s words.

“The surgeons in our team seem to be young, do we not have any senior doctors in our team on site?” Ningning asks. Unlike the way you asked your question, Yizhou remains cool and focused, her hands writing down everything she hears while her eyes are trained on everything Karina points out.

“Good question, we do have young surgeons because they are exceptionally good and adaptive to the always-changing situations in the ER. Do not let their age fool you, Mark has already finished his fellowship and is only a humble step away from his next promotion. Haechan and Yangyang are both in their last stretches as well and have gained enough trust from the Chief of General Surgery dr. Kim Doyoung to work independently on ER cases while our emergency surgeon Dr. Lee Taeyong is on leave.”

♡

The soft melody of a random R&B song plays in the living room while you clean the fog of your mirror. You look at your tired reflection, but muster up the energy to smile back at yourself. As much as today went by fairly peacefully, you can’t shake off the unfortunate encounter with Dr. Donghyuck. Was five years enough time to change an entire personality, or did your young and naive self paint him in a light he was never meant to be seen in?

“Y/N, where did you put the remote? I swear you never place it back at our designated spot!” Winter complains, already in the doorway of your shared bathroom to give you an earful about designated spots for shared items. But every word she planned to say dies down when she sees your face.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Didn’t your first day go well?” She takes your hand and leads you to the couch, two cups of warm tea already on the coffee table. “What happened?” She asks after you haven’t answered her first question.

“It’s nothing. Just some nerves” You try to shrug it off, but your roommate keeps staring at you with suspicion.

“Babe, as a third-year nurse, I have already honed the ability to sense lies whenever I ask my patients about medication. I don’t want to play nurse when I’m at home as well. So spill, what is upsetting little spring sunshine?” You crack a small smile at the nickname; your overexcitement on the first day of moving in made the apartment owner laugh, she said a little spring sunshine will move in with the resident winter princess. Since then, Winter and you have started to call each other those nicknames to become more comfortable with each other as roommates and friends.

“Remember why I joined nursing school in the first place?” You asked, looking down at your takeout and poking in it with your fork. “Yeah, you fell in love with a resident and wanted to become a nurse so you could work beside him,” Winter answered breezily, slurping a long strand of noodle loudly as she looked for you to continue.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m doing all this over a crush! I truly got inspired to get into this work field!”

“Was anything I said false though?” You didn’t answer. “Point proven.”

"Anyway!" You try to continue the subject so the two of you won’t go down that tangent. “I met him today and he became a completely different person. I’m not saying I expected him to be 100% the same, but it is kind of sad that I couldn’t find traces of the guy who inspired me in him anymore.” Winter hums, putting the plastic fork to her lips.

“Hold up, you met him today? If you were in intro group four…and you start rotation in the ER…” Minjeong taps the crease between her brows, trying to piece the strings of information together. After a few moments of silence, she gasps at the realization.

“Your first love is Lee Donghyuck isn’t it?” You nod, the burdened expression on your roommate’s face unsettles you. “You look at me like I made a big mistake, is he in a relationship or something?”

“No,” You felt relieved for some stupid reason. “But Donghyuck isn’t exactly the type of guy I imagined you being into. I thought you meant Mark Lee when you first talked about your crush.”

“What’s wrong with Donghyuck?”

“I want to say it’s a rumor, but I saw it firsthand once with a rookie nurse a few years ago. A nurse quit after just a week because Donghyuck gave him a hard time. Be perfect or he will lecture you until you’re about to hand in your resignation letter.” You pale at your roommate’s words, deeply regretting every course of action you took today, including entering the hospital. “But I’m sure it’s just a facade, so don’t lose hope yet!” She tries to cheer you up, but it is already too late. You have dug your own grave.

♡

As if the gods wanted to mess with you for a bit, you were assigned to assist Donghyuck’s patients. To say your first week went bad was an understatement. Karina was right when she said Donghyuck has a low tolerance for questions he gets annoyed at anything relatively quickly.

On your second day shadowing him, you noticed that he had long legs. Legs that do not wait for you and your cart to keep up. He gave you a side-eye when you eventually arrived at the right room, you also got lost because he didn’t wait up.

(“If this were an emergency alarm, the patient might have already died. Keep your head in the game, dreamer.” He mockingly taps his writing clipboard against your cart before turning around and smiling brightly at his patients. You feel like you were fuming from the ears at his act.)

On your fourth day in, you discovered a little hiding area where you could take a break without Donghyuck throwing mean remarks at you. You figured, if he can’t find you, he can’t talk bad about you.

The little box of cookies you found in a drawer was already half gone once you heard two people enter the room, a small curtain separating you from them.

“Dude, I think that Nurse Y/N might have a crush on you!” Dr. Liu said with excitement. It has been a while since romance blossomed for his friend and the littlest indication that it might happen again made him happy.

Donghyuck raised his brow, “Who?”, and Yangyang’s smile drowned away. He doesn’t even know your name? “Nurse Y/N, she is – dude?" Donghyuck shakes his head. “For real? The nurse who has been assisting you for the past four days?”

“Oh, the dreamer. I doubt she’d have a crush on me.” Maybe it was because you couldn’t see his face, but your delusion might have caught a bit of a somber tone in his voice.

“Besides, the chances of something happening between me and her is 0.00001%. Any other rookie might even be better than her.” Lee Donghyuck has proven once again that he is hard to empathize with.

(“Have you seen my chocobi cookies, by the way? I was planning on eating them but I couldn’t find them in my snack drawer.”)

You finished his nasty cookies with no regrets.

Your fifth day came around and you were doing your rounds without Donghyuck, the doctor was yet to return from a four-hour surgery and thus you ended up doing the rounds with Mark.

Although Mark was a bit too much of a talker, it was a nice change of pace compared to the GS specialist who criticized your every move.

“You just have to look through the words,” Mark said after he finally made you share your worries with him. The two of you already arrived at the third room for the current check-up round.

“I’d rather not look straight into his eyes. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t have made it past day one, dr. Lee” You slide open the door and greet the patients warmly. In the room were four patients from a traffic accident that happened on your second day. Because it happened late at night, Mark was already scheduled for a long surgery for pediatrics, causing Donghyuck to do back-to-back surgeries on these four patients.

Minnie, a high school girl, greeted the two of you with a timid smile, her eyes lingered longer on Mark before meeting yours again.

“Dr. Donghyuck is currently occupied, so Dr. Lee Mark over here is guiding me today.” You explained to the girl, the feeling that she might have a crush on Donghyuck was unbelievable but also kind of cute.

“She has been waiting to thank him since yesterday evening.” Riku, a college student, commented, earning a glare from the girl which caused him to laugh. You hum while prepping Mrs. Choi for a blood sample. After you finish filling two small tubes for the tests, she signals you to come closer.

“Dr. Donghyuck allowed her boyfriend to visit her yesterday, even though visiting hours were already over. The academy hours these days cause students to finish their studies at late hours.” You look back at Minnie, noticing a singular rose in a tiny vase next to a small teddy bear on her nightstand. The scene reminds you of a sweet youth drama.

“How is your appetite, Mrs. Choi? I noticed you didn’t eat much the last few days, if you want, I can alternate a few things on your menu plan to help get your appetite back?” The older woman softly shakes her head. “No need, the doctor gave me some stomach medicine yesterday. I feel much better now.”

Although you added a small comment about Mrs. Choi’s appetite into your nurse log before you clocked out for the evening, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to take the note as seriously as he did. Writing up medicine for patients always required a lot more paperwork, and your seniors in nursing always recommended trying to minimize the prescriptions doctors had to make.

“I’m glad it is working out, Mrs. Choi. Let me know if you need me to adjust anything, alright?” The lady smiled before turning to Mark. “The other doctor and nurse Y/N make such an interesting duo, don’t you think? They remind me of my first love.” You were already halfway through the room to check on the last patient, the comment made you stop in your tracks a second too long. Mark laughs, “What was your first love like Mrs. Choi? I wonder how Donghyuck and Y/N compare to it.”

You try to focus on the teenager’s stats, Jisoo is also seemingly intrigued by what Mrs. Choi has to say about her first love and late husband.

“We were like opposites. Chan was always driven by his ambitions, he never knew when to stop and enjoy the slow and steadiness of the world. After we met, he used to tell me how I re-taught him how to live life.” Mrs. Choi’s gaze was fixed on the window, but you knew that she was also holding back tears, it was evident in the way she spoke about her late husband.

You finish up Jisoo’s check-up before returning to Mrs. Choi’s bedside, squatting down and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “He sounds like a love worth spending a lifetime with, Mrs. Choi.” Her gaze turns to you and you can see the glossiness of her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispers before lying down again, Mark and you bid the other patients goodbye before leaving the room.

“You handled that situation well, nurse Y/N,” Mark says after a beat of silence. You give him a sad smile, “She lost so much in the past few days, dr. Lee. If I can lighten that pain for even a moment, I will.”

“You live up to that speech dr. Nakamoto gave on your second day, huh?” You smile, thinking back at the random visit of the pediatrician. He was looking for a specific person (you later figured that person to be Mark) but got thrust into giving the rookie nurses a motivational speech by nurse Jaemin.

(“I don’t think I’m in any position to give a speech, dr. Na.” Yuta eyed the nurses with an awkward laugh, making Jaemin, the ER doctor, challenge him further. “These nurses will rotate into your department soon, anyway. Besides, I doubt you’d come all the way down from the tenth floor to disturb us in our busiest hours, right Dr. Nakamoto?”)

Doctors treat illnesses, nurses heal patients.

Although he probably said those words without much thought behind them, you found new meaning behind those words. Sure, ever since working with Donghyuck, many of your rather superficial motivations disappeared into thin air. But Dr. Nakamoto’s words were a good reminder that Donghyuck wasn’t your only reason.

It’s patients like Mrs. Choi, those who don’t only suffer bodily injury or illness, but also have a wound to the heart that needs healing. The surgical scars will eventually fade, but without genuine and continued support and care, a patient might carry painful memories for a long time. To you, soothing their hearts for even a moment was a reward worthy of suffering through the nursing program, and even Dr. Donghyuck’s never-ending remarks.

♡

The taste of Winter’s cooking was one you could never quite get enough of, the girl was always in her element in the kitchen and it was evident in her food. Tonight you were also accompanied by Karina. Although you already knew Winter had invited a friend over, it didn’t quite dawn upon you that the nurse friend she mentioned from time to time was going to be the head nurse of your department. The awkwardness from your greetings earlier still lingers ever so slightly in the back of your head, but you try to pay it no mind. It did help that none of you talked about work, rather giggling away with every sip of wine as you talked about your college adventures.

“You know, I think you will do well in the ER, Y/N. If you can handle someone as cold as Donghyuck, I don’t doubt that even the most enraged Karen will get to you.” Karina says in between hiccups. Winter is already leaning on her arm, slowly drifting off with occasional mumbles while Karina keeps rambling on about random thoughts she has.

You weren’t a heavy drinker, but luckily Winter had opted for wine (the two women had already finished a few shots of soju before you came home) which you were able to handle.

“I think Donghyuck truly has a stick up his ass like he knows the ER is heavily understaffed and yet he is driving any nurse he sees away.” Karina huffs, another large gulp of red wine.

“It’s one thing to feel entitled because you’re a good doctor, but it’s another to assume every nurse to be at that level from the start, right Y/N?” You try to pry the wine glass away from her hands, but she downs the entire glass before you can.

“Karina, are you going to be okay?” You watch as she stands up and points her finger at the decorative succulent on your dining table. “This plant is dying, it’s withering away.” It was a fake plant.

“I will call a cab for you, Karina. Where do you live?” The woman seems to acknowledge the time and her condition, already stumbling into your hallway to grab her shoes. You follow behind her with her belongings. She laughs a little too loud at your questions and points upstairs. “I’m alright, Y/N. I’m your upstairs neighbor!” She chirps happily as she spreads her arms in the air before blacking out. Great.

The trip is anything but easy: the elevator decides to take everyone else to their respective floors before arriving at the sixth floor, and of course, Karina keeps wiggling in your hold while the other residents keep side-eyeing you in your pajamas.

Since she didn’t quite tell you which unit she lived in, you had to walk past each front door like a creep with Karina’s arms nearly killing your neck. None of the unit numbers 601-604 had her surname on it. You were praying that you didn’t have to go all the way down the hall to unit 610 before you finally read her name underneath unit number 605, right next to Lee Donghyuck’s name.

You froze, trying to process what this meant, but Karina had already woken up and was loudly banging on the front door of unit 605. You were torn between leaving her here, but she didn’t quite look sober enough to stand steadily.

The door opens after a few loud bangs from Karina, an annoyed – nothing new there – Donghyuck opens the door. His hair was damp and he was wearing grey sweats and a black shirt, a towel around his neck, and black-framed glasses adorning his face – definitely new. It takes everything in you to not admit he looks like a cute nerd in those glasses.

He was about to hurl a mean comment. At this point, you are pro at recognizing this. Donghyuck stops when his eyes settle on you. He raises a brow, and you only reply to his wordless questions with a sheepish smile.

“Your girlfriend had dinner over at our place, sorry. I put some hangover medicine in the pocket of her jacket for her to take in the morning. See you tomorrow, Dr. Lee!” And you ran away, accidentally pushing Karina into Donghyuck’s arms, but you weren’t going to stay there a second longer than needed.

Even though you thought you were pretty sure that you didn’t like Donghyuck anymore, the new information that he lived upstairs with his girlfriend still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

♡

You were transferring your notes into the nurse logs when Karina entered your little cubicle. “Hey Y/N, are you busy?” You shake your head, moving to the side so the head nurse can comfortably stand in your little workspace.

“Normally I wouldn’t talk about personal affairs during working hours, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was upset at my boyfriend and when Winter said the two of you were going to stay at home and just casually drink, I couldn’t help but ask to join. I needed some company for a bit.” She starts to explain, and you start to notice that drunk Karina and sober Karina aren’t much different.

The scary image of head nurse Karina fades away as you watch her ramble, animatedly making her points with her facial expressions and hands. You smile at the sight, realizing the subtle cuteness of Karina’s true character. “It’s okay, nurse Karina. We all have ups and downs in relationships.” Karina shyly nods, “I also have a little request to make.” You let her continue.

“Please don’t tell our colleagues about Donghyuck and I living together, it’s embarrassing.” Although you were confused as to why it would be embarrassing, you promised her you wouldn’t tell a soul. She gives you a grateful smile before her pager goes off. Before you turn back fully to focus on your logs again, Karina calls your name. “You can just call me Karina when we are alone. I think we are way past the formalities after what happened.”

Karina disappears behind the doors and your polite smile falters slightly. You wonder why Winter and Mark didn’t warn you about the relationship between Karina and Donghyuck, feeling stupid that you were so open about your admiration for the man in front of people who knew he was already off the market.

It wasn’t like you were full-on pursuing him, but it does hurt to know that his type and you were so far off, evidently marking that 0.00001% to be true. Karina was extremely pretty, smart, and good at her job. Sure, she was a rambler and loud drunk, but she easily carried herself in confidence.

A soft cough pulls you back from your thoughts. Donghyuck leans against the wall, handing you his clipboard. “I saw you were filling out the logs, can you upload this chart to Riku’s profile?” You wordlessly take the papers and start typing, expecting him to leave after he says what he needs, but you don’t hear any footsteps. Before you can ask, he starts speaking again.

“She’s my cousin.” His words were rushed and Maeda Riku’s chart had already taken most of your attention, making the only sound coming out of your mouth a confused ‘huh?’.

“Karina, she is my cousin. I’m not dating anyone. That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday before you ran off.” If someone told you you would see an awkward Donghyuck less than two weeks into the job, you wouldn’t believe them. The man had a sharp tongue and – just like his cousin – carried himself with certainty, attitude, and incredible skills that steadily established his dominance in the department. But for some unknown reason, he was avoiding eye contact and fumbling with something in his pockets in front of you.

“Oh.”

“I gave her the hangover cure, it helped.” He added after way too many seconds, still fumbling with his white coat pocket. You give him a weak smile, not knowing how to act in this strange situation. The air was not tense like it usually was, but it was far from comfortable.

“I got you the same one.” His hands were too fast, but the bottle on your desk and his empty pockets prove that he had been fumbling with the hangover medicine all this time.

“Thank you…” The act of kindness (?) made you speechless.

“You were reaching for your head a few times while doing rounds. It’s disturbing my work and the patients. If you can’t handle alcohol, don’t drink.” And the Lee Donghyuck you knew has ruined the moment again.

“I don’t think I deserve scolding when your cousin ended up like that.” Your remark earned a half-hearted scoff from him. You hated the way your heart started beating like your younger self again.

“Just drink it and get ready to join me for your OR testing.”

♡

The biting winter air felt like tiny pricks against your exposed skin, but you remained seated on the cold wooden bench while hugging your bottle of water tightly. Your OR testing didn’t go wrong, but it didn’t go smoothly either.

It wasn’t necessarily what Donghyuck said, but it was the way that he said those words to you in a room filled with your peers and other colleagues. He was complaining about how handling different tools wasn’t just about speed, but also about precision, how you were too hasty and could cause dangerous accidents. How he wouldn’t tolerate it if it were to happen in his OR and how you weren’t going in there anywhere soon.

It hurts that just when you finished painting him as an awful person, he started to make you doubt him again, causing his words to twist as painfully as they were the first few days as his assisting nurse.

You weren’t a big fan of crying, it felt like losing control over your feelings, but you couldn’t help it when you’re so deep into your self-pity party.

“Nurse Y/N?” The voice of an uncertain Minnie makes you look up, staring into the eyes of an equally teary-eyed teenage girl. You try to wipe away your tears in a hurry to attend to the girl, but she just hands you a handkerchief with a sympathetic smile.

“You know, crying does make everything a bit better, don’t you think?” She asks through a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. You breathe in some more air, feeling better despite being spotted by one of your patients. The two of you don’t say much at first, sitting in a comfortable silence while staring at the few white dots in your pitch-black sky.

“Boys are stupid.” She suddenly says, catching you off guard.

“Why would you say that?”

“They just are, I think girls cry more often because of them than any other reason.” She explains nonchalantly, making you grin at your words.

“Can’t disagree on that.” You mumble.

After a while, you returned inside to finish one last welfare round before switching out with the night shift nurses. You greet Karina as you pass the nurse station, she holds you back by your arm. “I had a word with Donghyuck about what happened during testing, are you alright?” Admittedly, you were still a bit mad at his choice of actions, but you couldn’t blame him for correcting you on something you did wrong.

“I will get over it, but thank you for looking out for me.” You grabbed your necessities and walked through the dimmed hospital corridors, making your way quietly through the resting areas of your patients. Most were already asleep, some mumbled soft words while you gently checked their stats and some even bid you a good night before turning around to sleep.

Once you made your way into room 4, you expected Minnie to have returned when you opened your curtain, but her bed was still empty. You frown, remembering how she mentioned how cold it was and that she should quickly return and sleep the night away.

After a few confused moments at her bedside, you notice the small but important details surrounding her little sleeping space.

The rose she received days ago bore no petals and the little teddy bear was stuffed inside the small trash can. The conversation from before replays in your mind, and you take out the handkerchief she had handed you.

You recognize the handkerchief was part of a goodie bag for a small promotion the hospital held once in a while. The words 2023 on the embroidery make you speed walk towards the storage room where older items were kept for PR.

The storage room wasn’t a huge mess, but it was evident that someone had roughly opened the stored tissue papers and used a few. Your heart ached, thinking how the young girl must have cried in here, feeling lonely and betrayed.

Without thinking, you put out your pager and send out a notification for a missing patient, running towards the terrace where you last saw her. You kept calling her name, heart hammering in your chest as different thoughts spun in your mind.

Different nurses and medical staff on the floor start spreading and calling out for Minnie, everyone equally worried for the young teenage girl.

You end up on the eighth floor, briefly informing Mark before rushing off into another hallway, feeling more and more anxious with each passing second. You hear a click from nearby and rush towards the sounds, opening the door to a balcony wordlessly as you freeze, Minnie’s hands on the railing and a devastating look in her eyes.

“Minnie–”

"Don't!" Her voice shakes as she puts one leg over the railing. “I don’t want to hear about how young I am, how much life I have to live. What is the use if no one will love me?”

“Why would no one love you?” You ask softly, still stuck in place, afraid that one wrong move will make her do something irreversible.

“Because I’m permanently broken. Because I have a scar that will never heal. Because I will have to return to the hospital every few years.” Minnie wasn’t directly looking at you, she was staring down the levels, the tears in her eyes dropping down eight floors.

“But it will heal, Minnie. Both your scar and your life.” You carefully take a step, noticing how she doesn’t flinch at your movement. “Right now, you are in a very tough battle, wanting to look the prettiest for a boy you like, don’t you?” She is quiet.

“And having him see you in a hospital gown, having him not see the best version of you, it hurts, doesn’t it?” She closes her eyes, whispering a small and shaky ‘yes’, but you heard her.

“I used to think like that, too. I used to think that once I meet the love of my life, I have to be perfect already so that he will fall in love with me.” Minnie doesn’t react, even though you are certain she knows you’re closing your distance slowly.

“But I found out, quite recently, that I don’t want to be perfect to be loved. I want him to see me at my weakest, and see how I fight my way through my weaknesses. Don’t you want to show him that you are a fighter, too?” Minnie looks up at you, although she doesn’t say it, her eyes tell you everything you need to know.

“Thank you, Minnie. Give me your hand and I’ll help you down slowly, is that alright?” She nods, giving you a hand before turning around. The action makes her foot slip and she slides off the railing with a scream. You lunge forward, holding her hands as tight as you can.

“It’s okay, trust me, I will not let go.” You grunt, trying your best to lift her, but she is too heavy for you to pull up alone. “Somebody, help!” You shout out in between reassuring words for Minnie. You feel her trying to climb up, causing her grip on yours to loosen. You shout for help again, begging the skies to help this little girl. You were fighting a rough battle with exhaustion, using every fiber in your being to keep the hold on the girl’s hands.

You start to lose grip, you shout out for help one more time before you feel a warm body against you, arms surrounding yours and holding onto Minnie’s forearms.

“I got you” Donghyuck speaks to you softly before raising his voice for Minnie to hear. “Minnie, I will count to three, and Nurse Y/N, and I will pull you up. I need you to use your legs to climb up, okay? Everything is alright. We got you.”

You finally look at him and he nods counting to three before you gather all your remaining strength to lift Minnie. The three of you land on the ground of the balcony, most of the landing softened by Donghyuck embracing you both.

Minnie holds onto you tightly, crying into your chest as she keeps mumbling apologies. You close your eyes to keep your tears in, soothing the girl with strokes through her hair. “Everything will be fine from now on, Minnie. You are a fighter, remember? You will show everyone that you are a fighter, okay?” Donghyuck stands up, typing on his pager before the medical staff comes through the door with a wheelchair, taking the shocked teenager from your arms.

You are still shaken from everything that happened in the past 10 minutes, your legs and arms have completely given up after all the adrenaline wore out. Donghyuck wordlessly helps you on your feet. “Let’s go, my shift ended as well. I’m taking us home.” His voice was soft again, just like when he told you that he got you in your most fearful moment.

He tugs you forward, but you don’t budge causing him to shoot you a questioning expression. “I can’t walk anymore.”

You didn’t have any ulterior motives when you said those words, but getting a piggyback home from Donghyuck did feel nice.

It still felt odd, you were sure a week ago that you hated his guts, but now and then, he made your heart flutter like five years ago. The thoughts confused you, making you unsure about how you should act around the man. Avoiding him wasn’t an option for now, although you knew your rotation in the emergency department was coming to an end soon.

“You have potential.” He suddenly speaks as your apartment complex comes into sight. “You aren’t as fast as Nurse Ningning or as knowledgeable as Nurse Chenle, but you notice the small things about patients.”

“I doubt small things matter as much as accuracy and knowledge in this work field, Dr. Lee.” You mumble into his shoulder.

“You might think so, but I know for a fact that if you didn’t notice those things, we might have lost a lovely person today.” It was hard to find the right words to say, so you stayed quiet and let him continue.

“Your attentiveness saved a life, Y/N. Don’t ever think any less of yourself as a nurse.” Normally, you’d assume he is saying this to mock you, but even without seeing his face, you know he said those words sincerely.

“Thank you for finding me, Dr. Lee.” You say after he steps out of the elevator on the fifth floor. “It’s hard to miss you when you still shout like an endangered teen girl.” Your heart skips a beat.

“So you remember me?” You don’t know why you’re holding your breath, but you are.

“I didn’t at first, but after all the hints and pieces I got from why you joined the nursing program, together with what happened today, I just followed the string of information and realized that young girl was you.”

He has stopped in front of your apartment and you try to hurry off his back before your roommate sees you, but he doesn’t let you go as smoothly as you thought. Your roommate seemed to have sensed you because the door swung open. Winter looks at you, your arms around his neck, and then Donghyuck himself. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, you rip yourself from Donghyuck’s hold – ignoring the immediate absence of his warmth – and wave him goodbye, slamming the door in his face and shushing Winter.

“Girl, you act fast.” Minjeong throws you a smug grin.

“Please don’t even start, Winter” Unfortunately for you, her grin only widens.

The two of you continue to argue, unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck was still outside, listening to your little arguments with a chuckle. He stops himself from mumbling how amusing your reaction was, the word ‘cute’ almost escaping his lips. His footsteps start echoing again after your voices fade away, heading home in high need of some back pain-relieving patches.

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#nct dream x reader #lee haechan #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #nct au #nct scenarios #nct x reader #haechan fluff #haechan angst #mark lee #liu yangyang #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct angst

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